#It actually tastes *better* once it's on a sword

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Hero and Hope (Part 2/5)

(part 1) (part 3)

The next time you go hunting, the Bahrs go with you.

“It’s really fine,” you protest. It’s early enough in the morning that the air carries a bite. With any luck, they’ll think the redness in your cheeks comes from the chill rather than embarrassment. “I’m not even going far in. It’s Hera’s birthday coming up and she likes squirrel…”

“You’re going to catch a squirrel without a blade?” Mr. Bahr – Ivan – asks. He tightens the strap on Mrs. Bahr’s back, making sure the quiver of arrows is snug along her spine. He pats her shoulder when he finishes and beams at you. “Are you very fast?”

Yes, you are. You’ve noticed that you’re even faster lately as your 15th birthday marches closer and closer. You purse your lips. “I set traps.”

“Don’t mind him, Isla,” Mrs. Bahr -Marie -  says. She fondly shoves Ivan off the porch of the orphanage so she can get down. “He’s always joking.”

“What sort of traps?” Ivan asks. He runs a critical eye over your coat and pack. “Will that be warm enough?”

You’re not sure if your coat is warm enough for the weather or not. Another rising power: you’re nearly impervious to the cold. You shrug. “I’ll be fine. And just simple snares and stuff.”

“We can’t wait to see,” Ivan declares. He gestures towards the road. “Lead the way.”

You bite your lip. It’s clear that they knew you were going hunting today by their garb. Both are in sturdy, worn leather with swords on their hips and bows along their backs. They probably heard from Director Sarah and came specifically to make sure you kept your promise not to hunt alone. But… “The other kids will be sorry they missed you.”

“We’ll see them when we return victorious with birthday squirrels,” Ivan says.

“What a sentence,” Marie says dryly.

You aren’t going to convince them to let you go alone. You silently lead the way towards the orchard. Or, rather, as silently as you can. Ivan talks the whole time, asking questions about the apple trees and pointing to ducks flying overhead. You answer the questions you know the answer to and hum whenever you don’t. You wish you knew more about the vegetation, but the most you can tell Ivan is whether or not something is poisonous.

“Those ones,” you say, nodding to the low, circular leaves Mr. Bahr is pointing to, “are tricky. The real ones taste kind of sweet. The other kind that looks like that makes your stomach cramp for three days straight.”

“How can you tell the difference?” Ivan asks.

You shrug. “You can’t. I just tell the younger kids to bring it to me before eating it. Usually, I trade it for something actually edible.”

Marie, trailing behind you both, makes a noise of interest. “Usually?”

You feel your ears go hot. “Sometimes I’ll try it for them just to see if they can eat it. I’ve had enough of the bad one that it doesn’t affect me so much.”

“You try it?” Marie’s voice is sharp. “Isla, there has to be a better way.”

“Not really,” you say. You scratch the back of your head and quicken your step. You’re almost to the tree line of the woods. “The kids like sweet things. If I didn’t give in occasionally, they’d try it themselves. At least this way they check in with me first.”

“I still don’t think—”

“Sounds like Marie and I’ll be bringing some sweets along with us next time,” Ivan interrupts cheerfully. He points past the last apple tree about a dozen feet ahead. “Looks like the path ends there?”

“There’s an animal track about ten feet into the woods,” you say. You’re uncomfortable with Marie’s reaction. You know it’s not smart to eat poisonous plants, but what else were you supposed to do? Your worst fear is that the kids will one day get hungry enough to eat them without caring about the pain. Your shoulders round. “We’ll need to be quiet once we’re there.”

“I’m the best at being quiet,” Ivan says. He elbows Marie. “Right, Marie?”

“Right,” Marie says. Her voice is still a little strained, but you can tell she’s trying to hide it. “That’s why I married you.”

“That’s a lie,” Ivan says. He stage-whispers to you, “She married me for my amazingly dashing good looks.”

Marie huffs a laugh but doesn’t say anything else. You’ve entered the forest.

You were worried on the way that you’d need to tell Ivan that he needs to be quiet in the forest. You needn’t have been concerned. Both adults are silent and walk with quiet steps, their dark eyes alert on their surroundings. They move through the undergrowth gracefully, their years of experience showing in every step. You try to copy Marie’s soft footfalls as best you can and are pleased when your steps get a little quieter.

The Bahrs watch as you pick places for your traps. Ivan silently points to one of your knots, eyebrow raised. Guessing what he’s asking, you undo the knot and then redo it slowly. He nods in satisfaction and then gestures for you to give him the rope. Curiously, you do. Ivan completes the same knot, fingers steady through each step. When he’s done, he presents it to you proudly as if to say, See? I did it!

It makes you do something you very rarely do in the woods. You smile.

After setting the traps you take the Bahrs to your favorite resting spot. The clearing lies just by the edge of the shallow part of the river. About a mile downstream the banks widen and the North River joins this one, making it a dangerous place of rapids. Here, however, the water moves slowly and is shallow enough to be warmed by the sun.

Finally, you speak. “Shouldn’t be too long. Maybe an hour or two and then we can go check on them.”

“Is this where you found the horned rabbit?” Marie asks. You sit on a large, flat rock by the river, but she stays standing. Her eyes carefully scan the perimeter of the clearing.

“Not quite. That was near the hills.” You point. “Fifteen minutes that way.”

“That’s close,” Ivan says. He frowns, concerned. “Was that the first demon you’ve seen here?”

“No.” When the Bahrs turn to you in alarm, you shrug. “Not all the time, but demons come here. They’re usually not interested in me though.”

“But the horned rabbit was?” Marie asks.

Interested is an understatement. You’re not an idiot. You know that demons are dangerous. That’s why you usually avoid them when you spot them. Normally they’re content to let you pass by, but not the horned rabbit. It followed you nearly all the way back to the orchard before you realized you needed to do something before it attacked you. “Yeah.”

“What other types of demons do you see here?” Ivan asks. His voice is light, but he’s looking at you with a very serious expression. “Maybe howling bats?”

“I hear them sometimes,” you say, “but I don’t stick around after dark.” Ivan and Marie exchange dark looks. You fidget on the rock. “What?”

“This is protected land, Isla,” Marie says. She purses her lips. “No demons should be south of those hills.”

“What other types have you seen?” Ivan asks again. He comes to squat by you so he can look you in the eyes. “And when?”

“Just horned rabbits.”

“Are you sure?” Marie asks. She runs a hand over her hair, slicking back the fly aways. “Horned rabbits aren’t usually sighted alone.”

You hesitate. It’s true that the horned rabbits are the only demons you’ve seen, but… “There have been some signs lately, but I don’t know if they’re demons.”

Ivan’s eyes sharpen. “What?”

“Wolves,” you say. Both Bahrs stiffen, hands going to their swords. You speak quickly. “But I’ve never seen them! They might be regular wolves. I found the tracks at the base of the hill, and some bones, but they were a week old probably.”

“We’ll need to ask the Lord to investigate,” Marie tells Ivan. She looks deeply unhappy. “The patrol doesn’t cover this far south.”

“An oversight,” Ivan says grimly. He reaches out absently and ruffles your hair. It startles you, but it feels nice. Ivan makes an effort to smile at you. “Good eyes, Isla. Is there anything else you’ve noticed changing in the forest lately? Even something not demon related?”

Something funny is happening in your chest. Good eyes, Isla. You wrack your brain for anything else. “I haven’t seen any other tracks or anything and there’s only been four or five horned rabbits this season.”

Marie makes a small noise in her throat. When you turn to look at her, she hides whatever expression she’d been making. “That’s a lot. Did you need to use your sharp stick on all of them?”

Ivan startles. “Sharp stick?”

You rub the back of you neck. “Just two.” You look up at the sky. You only had a sharp stick that day, but there are times when you’ve come out here with a knife. Knife days are for when you’re looking for bigger game.  “I’ve been pretty lucky hunting lately, now that I think about it. There’s been more deer and regular rabbits south of the river.”

“What do you mean ‘lately?’”

“The past month.”

Ivan and Marie exchange another long look. Before you can ask them what’s wrong, Ivan turns to you with another smile.

“Say,” he says, “what do you think about trying to bag something bigger than a squirrel today? You ever fire a bow before?”

Your eyes widen. “No.”

“You can use mine,” Marie says, pulling it from her shoulder. She holds it out to you. “We’re nearly the same height. The draw may be a bit heavy for you—or not.”

Embarrassed by the shock in her voice, you release the string. “I’m, uh, stronger than I look.”

“Good,” Ivan says. “That’ll make it easier to actually catch something today.”

The next few hours are the most fun you’ve ever had in the woods. Marie and Ivan go over every part of the bow with you, explaining the weight of it, the flexibility, the length. Marie and Ivan carry several different types of arrows with different tips, all good for different types of shooting. They let you practice on a tree across the river and each time you’re closer to hitting the center of it, they compliment how fast you’re learning, how accurate your eye, how steady and consistent your draw.

By the time they let you hunt with it, you feel like you’re walking on clouds.

The feeling lasts even after you return to the orphanage, a deer slung over Marie’s shoulders and your hands full of squirrel. There’s a pleasant ache in your back and arms from practicing with the bow. You can’t stop smiling. Everything Ivan says is out of the blue and Marie’s tired responses make it all funny.

At one point you’re walking behind them, watching their shoulders brush when the path gets a little too narrow. They’re smiling at each other and talking softly and for a wild, wonderful, awful moment, you imagine that you can keep this. You aren’t sure what this is. Their attention and their companionship, their gentle guidance and the way they speak to you like you’re an adult?

After Hera’s birthday dinner, the Bahrs stay extra late to help clean up and to spend time with the younger kids. You are still feeling a sort of bone deep happiness you’ve never felt before. Everyone is full and sleepy-eyed from the amount of food you were able to put on the table. The kids gather around their slates in the common area, learning a new type of drawing game from Ivan and Marie.

Hera comes up to where you’re leaning on the doorway. Quietly, she slips her hand into yours. You squeeze it.

“Thanks for the squirrel,” she says quietly.

You lean down and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Happy Birthday.”

She hums and watches the fun in the living room for a long moment. She’s eleven now, three years older than you were that Winter. She’s the second oldest in the orphanage and, for the first time, you wonder if she feels the same sort of responsibility as you.

“I’m happy for you, you know,” Hera says.

You make a low questioning noise in your throat.

“The Bahrs will be good to you,” Hera says. She looks up at you evenly, a small smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. “You deserve that, Isla.”

Every muscle in your chest locks, chasing away the pleasant languidness you’d been feeling. “That’s not—they’re not—”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Hera says. She stands on tiptoe so she can throw her arms around your shoulders, hugging you like she did when she was five. She whispers in your ear, “But I would be happy if they did.”

She lets go of you before you can tell her she’s being ridiculous, skipping into the room to join the drawing game.

You feel out of sorts for the rest of the night.

-----------------------.

(part 1) (part 3)

Thanks for reading! The full story is already posted on my Patreon (X)! If you'd like to support me, please consider checking out my page!

This month will be seeing two main things update on Patreon first: Dandelion (x) and my Cinderella story (masterpost coming soon!) updates for both coming later this week!

[medievalandfantasymelee]

THE HOT MEDIEVAL & FANTASY MEN MELEE

SECOND ROUND: 6th Tilt

Frodo Baggins, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003) VS. William Thatcher, A Knight’s Tale (2001)

Propaganda

Frodo Baggins, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003) Portrayed by: Elijah Wood Defeated Opponents: - Dong Yilong [Henry Lau], Double World (2020) - Prince Chauncley [Daniel Radcliffe], Miracle Workers: The Dark Ages (2020)

“The bluest of blue eyes, the burden, the sacrifice, the sadness… When I was in middle school and the movies were coming out, you were either an Aragorn girl or a Legolas girl. I was a Frodo girl.”

William Thatcher, A Knight’s Tale (2001) Portrayed by: Heath Ledger Defeated Opponents: - King Arthur [Charlie Hunnam], King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017) - King Vortigern [Jude Law], King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)

“13-year-old me had such a HUGE crush on Will Thatcher / Ulrich von Liechtenstein, and you know what? 13-year-old me was RIGHT (and had much healthier taste in men). He's a dreamer, he's sweet (except maybe when you're dismissive about jousting...), he gives to others despite having little himself, he has the most charming, contagious smile. And to play us out... he's blonde! He's pissed! He'll see you in the lists! Lichtenstein! Lichtenstein!”

Additional Propaganda Under the Cut

Additional Propaganda

For Frodo Baggins:

“cracks knuckles Okay, everyone. My time has come. Let me tell you all about the beautiful, wonderful treasure that is Frodo Baggins.

"He's intelligent. He can speak and write in Elvish, and he's mischievous, at least at the start of the story. His best friends are Merry and Pippin, and you can't tell me he didn't get into shenanigans with them once in a while. Whether it's repeatedly stealing Farmer Maggot's mushrooms as a kid in the book, or pushing Sam towards Rosie and cackling like a maniac afterwards in the movie, this makes him more relatable and imperfectly human, for lack of a better term, and you can't help but laugh with him.

"He's brave. Oh, he is so brave. Not in the sense that we would usually think- he's terrified the whole way through, and who wouldn't be in his situation? But he lets himself cry, lament his fate, feel whatever he needs to feel, do whatever he needs to do... and he gets up and keeps going anyway. He keeps going even though he's carrying something that's literally killing him, and rarely complains even though he'd be well within his rights to. This quote says it all, really: 'I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way.'

"But most of all? He is so, so terribly kind. He's kind to everyone he meets, even to those who arguably don't deserve it, such as Gollum and Saruman. He loves the people/world he loves so much that he's willing to sacrifice himself to save them without any hesitation or thanks. And it's his kindness towards Gollum that actually ends up saving the day in the end! How could anyone not love him?”

For William Thatcher:

“HE'S SO CUTE AND BRAVE AND STUPID AND DETERMINED AND FUNNY AND POETIC AND HE HAS BIG BEAUTIFUL BROWN EYES AND FRECKLES AND HE'S BISEXUAL-CODED HE'S MY BOY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH”

“The only man that could have pulled off a David Bowie dance scene within a medieval ballroom.”

[amazingmsme]

Like Salt in the Wound

AN: first fic of 2025, woohoo! Starting off strong with some angst/comfort & I honestly wouldn’t want it any other way! Odysseus really needs a hug, but I guess he’ll just have to get wrecked instead, lmao. Telemachus & Athena’s friendship means everything to me! I had an absolute blast with this one, & I hope you do too!

Odysseus had only been home just shy of a year, but even a few months spent with his beloved family repaired more of his soul than he ever imagined. There were nights where he slept peacefully; the nightmares fading away as his wife cradled him in her arms. He was less jumpy, more at ease. He no longer drew his sword when he heard a loud clatter or bang, instead merely gripping the hilt until he was sure there was no threat.

The past still haunted him, but he had learned to cope as best as he could.

He had changed, yes, but he was still Odysseus, and the man Penelope fell in love with all those years ago continued to shine through in little ways.

It was in the way he held her with such tenderness, the way he cupped her cheek and kissed her. How he laughed at his own terrible jokes. The way he blushed and shied away when she said something suggestive. How he hung on their son's every word, showering him with love and affection to make up for lost time.

He might've done terrible things to return to them, but he was not nearly the monster he saw himself as. There was still the smallest unspoken softness about him, but it slowly grew larger every day.

He shoved his insecurities down, only allowing Penelope to see him so weak. But there was one secret he kept from even her.

The first time he saw Telemachus, dawned with spear and helmet, wearing Athena's cloak, he felt a wave of panic wash over him. He couldn't let his mentor do to his son what she had done to him. He refused.

But then, Athena apologized. She actually admitted to leading him astray, and offered the chance to rebuild a better, more peaceful word. That this time, things would be different. She promised to train Telemachus with empathy, to not shut him out like she had done to Odysseus all those years before.

The idea terrified him. He saw so much of himself in Telemachus, and knew first hand how easy it would be to strip away his vibrancy and innocence. He had been hesitant to allow her to continue training him, but he caved the moment his son asked.

It felt... strange, watching the two of them interact. Watching his Telemachus spar with Athena stirred old memories that brought a bittersweet smile to his face. Oh, what could have been.

Telemachus had told him that Athena once called him her friend, on the day they first met. She didn't say his name, but he now knows she was referring to his father. Odysseus just wished she would've admitted that back then.

They both acted differently in each other's company; unlike they ever were with him.

Telemachus adored Athena. He looked forward to her visits, lighting up the moment she entered a room before running off for his next lesson. He was never so eager when Odysseus trained with him, questioning his methods and suggesting what Athena would do. He tried not to let it get under his skin, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't sting a little.

Athena might as well be a completely different person with Telemachus. She was patient and understanding, gently correcting him when he made a mistake. Odysseus seemed to remember her harsh tone and judging words when he was to screw up. It felt hypocritical, and it left a sour taste in his mouth.

He felt horrible for harboring such thoughts, and yet, he couldn't help it. He was jealous. Athena already knew Telemachus before he ever had the chance to truly meet him. She taught the boy how to fight; something he had been looking forward to doing himself. He still had much to learn, but he would rather listen to a Goddess than his own father.

Odysseus could never fault him for doing so. After all, he had been the same way at that age.

He remembered how great it felt to have her favor. To earn her praise after a battle well fought. She used compliments sparingly and went heavy handed on the criticism, so you would know when she really meant it. She would try to hold in her laughter when he would tell jokes, but he was able to catch her off guard on more than one occasion.

Even if the friendship had been one sided at the time, it had felt real to him.

So you can imagine how much it hurt to see Athena and Telemachus get along so well.

She didn't push him as hard as she did Odysseus, making sure to respect the young prince's boundaries. With the King of Ithaca, she sparred with him as her equal, as if he had the strength and speed of a God, and ridiculed him when she bested him in combat, pointing out everything he did wrong. But with Telemachus, she held herself back, only increasing the difficulty once she knew he could handle it. Her criticism was constructive and soft, and it made Odysseus roll his eyes. That wasn't the Athena he knew.

She didn't brush him off or keep him at arms length either; she welcomed the friendship with open arms. She called Telemachus her friend, to his face. And without a drop of condescension! She gave him plenty of breaks to go goof off, sometimes even joining in on the fun. Odysseus had only been allowed three breaks at most. 

It was fine. He was happy for them. Well, mostly for Telemachus. As long as he was happy, that's all that matters.

They were deep in the woods, close to where Odysseus killed the boar all those years ago. Oh how Telemachus loved that story. He loved all his stories, really. Odysseus feared that he would never quite live up to the legend Telemachus saw him as.

He was currently training him on his sword work,  blocking every strike Telemachus made. He swung down towards his father's shoulder with the blunt practice sword, only for Odysseus to parry the blade and spin around behind him. 

Telemachus whirled around just in time to block the sword with his shield, tucking and rolling across the ground. He popped back up, slashing across the back of his father's legs. Odysseus played along and fell to the ground, crawling as if he were severely wounded.

"Great job, you've disarmed your opponent and hold the advantage. But I could get up if I try, so I'm still a capable threat. What will you do?" Odysseus talked him through it, waiting for his son's next move.

"I..." Telemachus started, thinking of his options before committing, "I go straight for the heart," he said, raising his sword high above his head before stabbing down. He softened the blow just before poking Odysseus in the chest.

The King of Ithaca arched his back, screaming and writhing in mock pain. Telemachus couldn't help but chuckle and roll his eyes at the dramatics, but his amusement was obvious.

A slow clap sounded from behind, and Telemachus turned to see Athena watching from the trees. Her scar was healing well and she sported a proud smirk, "Well done, little wolf."

Telemachus smiled wide, running over to greet her. "Athena!" He threw his arms around her in a tight hug, one that she reciprocated.

"I see you're keeping him busy," she addressed Odysseus with a fond smile of her own.

"Are you kidding? He practically begged me until I agreed to spar with him," he teased. He stood up, brushing himself off, taking a step closer.

"Father!" Telemachus whined, a blush spreading across his cheeks. Athena chuckled and shook her head.

"Well then, how about I take him off your hands for a bit?" she asked, cocking her head.

"Be my guest," he invited, taking a seat on a fallen log.

"Alright Telemachus, let's give him a show."

"Alright!" he cheered, pumping a fist in the air. He snatched his discarded sword from the ground, taking a fighting stance.

Odysseus watched the training session with a gentle smile that felt more forced than he cared to admit. It was as though he were looking into his own past through rose tinted lenses.

They moved around each other with such practiced ease, as if it were a well rehearsed dance. Telemachus grinned from ear to ear, dimples on full display. He never smiled like that when it was Odysseus teaching him. Instead, he wore a tense, focused expression, broken only by the occasional smile before determination settled back once more. They bantered back and forth, goading and teasing each other as weapons clashed.

"Ha, is that the best you got?" Telemachus taunted as he parried another strike. Athena smirked, arching a brow before swiping her spear behind his legs and knocking him off his feet.

"Nope."

He sprung back up, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Bring it on then!"

Athena charged at him, only for Telemachus to sidestep her at the last second. He spun around, kicking the back of her knees to buckle her legs. She yelped and stumbled forward, leaning against a tree for support.

She stood up, studying the tree thoughtfully. Odysseus watched on skeptically, unsure where she was going with this.

"Is this a dogwood tree?" she asked, running a hand up the trunk.

Odysseus scooted closer to the edge of the log. No, she wouldn't!

"Uh, I don't know. Why?"

"I'm pretty sure it is," she mused, barely holding back a smirk.

"Really? How can you tell?" Telemachus asked, stepping closer to get a better look at the tree.

Athena looked down at him, allowing her smile to make its presence known. "By its bark."

She fucking did!

It took Telemachus a moment to get the joke, but once he did, he threw his head back in laughter. "Oho man, that's a good one!"

"Hey, that was my joke!" Odysseus spoke up, because what the hell gives? He told that joke to Telemachus a month ago and all he got in return was a fake chuckle! And further more, he could barely remember Athena ever laughing at his jokes, but suddenly, they were funny enough to steal?

Telemachus looked at his dad and shrugged. "Sorry, I guess she's just funnier than you!" he teased.

Okay, ouch. Odysseus clenched his jaw, ducking his head to hide the twitch of a frown tugging at his lips.

"I suppose she is," he agreed, trying to play along. He looked back up, an empty smile back in place as they resumed sparring.

"Flattery won't get you very far," Athena rolled her eyes, but joined in on the playful taunting. "That goes for both of you," she cast a quick glance towards Odysseus, faltering when she could've sworn she saw a look of sadness on her old friend's face. But it was gone just as fast as it appeared. She decided to let it go for now, but made a note in the back of her mind to check in on him later.

"I don't know, it's gotten me pretty far in the past," Telemachus bragged, showing off with some sword twirling that Odysseus had taught him.

"Okay, take it down a notch," she teased, but her words only embolden him. He tossed the sword in the air, catching it with his other hand.

"Make me!" he taunted. Athena grabbed her spear and shoved the blunt end against his chest, effectively knocking him off balance. He fell on his back, playfully glaring up at her from the dirt. "That was mean."

"You were being cocky."

"Yeah, and?" he asked, arching a brow. Athena shot Odysseus a look when he barked out a laugh, but a smile played at the edge of her mouth.

"The last thing he needs is more encouragement."

Odysseus merely shrugged, sporting a smug grin that put her mind at ease.

Then again, he'd always been a great actor.

Odysseus couldn't help but to feel like a third wheel. They clearly enjoyed each other's company more than his own, so why not just... slip away?

He scooted off to the side, sitting on the edge of the log. Neither one seemed to notice, so he casually stood to his feet, giving his back a stretch. He silently slipped into the shadows of the trees as the continued training.

He didn't go too far, but far enough to feel alone. He leaned against a tree, rubbing a hand over his tired face. He was surprised when his palm came back wet. When had he started crying? He quickly wiped away his tears, sniffling softly. By the Gods, he needed to get ahold of himself.

He closed his eyes, taking a few deep, yet shaky breaths. He could still hear the faint echoes of their taunting jeers in the distance, and sighed. He supposed he'd better head back before they noticed he was gone. He took his time on the way back, staring at the ground and dragging his feet.

Meanwhile, Telemachus and Athena continued to spar, although she had noticed the moment he left. She had known something was off, but she didn't know it was that bad. She tried to keep Telemachus busy so he wouldn't notice his father's absence.

She was lost in thought when a foot suddenly connected with her face and she was sent tumbling to the ground.

"Whoa! Dad, did you see that?" Telemachus cheered and jumped in the air, turning around for his father's approval. "Dad?" He looked around, but saw no trace of him. Panic began to creep inside his chest. He ran into the woods, shouting, "Dad? Where are you?"

"Telemachus, wait!" Athena called after him, but the kid was fast and he was in a mission. She ran after him, calling out for Odysseus as well.

As soon as he heard them call out, he ran towards them, yelling, "Over here!"

He came into view, and Telemachus ran into him with a bone crushing hug.

"Where were you?" 

Odysseus wheezed as the air was knocked out of him, wrapping his arms around his son. "Can't a man take a leak in private?" he joked. Telemachus chuckled, shoving at his chest.

"Just tell us next time! I roundhouse kicked Athena in the face and you didn't even see it!"

"Really? That's amazing! I'm so sorry I missed it," he apologized, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You'll just have to catch her by surprise and do it again, eh?"

"I doubt that'll happen," Athena piped up, crossing her arms.

"I wouldn't underestimate him," Odysseus praised, slinging an arm around his shoulder as they walked back to the clearing.

"Yeah Athena, don't underestimate me!" Telemachus taunted, sticking his tongue out at her from behind his father's back. She scoffed, eyes widening in shock.

"That's it, you're in time out when we get back!" she scolded.

"WHAT? You can't do that!" he yelled, a blush quickly spreading across his face as his father's laughter filled the air.

"Shehehe put you in time out!" he giggled, patting his son's back comfortingly.

"Don't laugh," he whined, but the smile on his face told him he didn't really mind. After all, he had barely heard him laugh since he returned.

"On the contrary, laugh it up Odysseus," Athena said, but something about her tone made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "When we get back, it's your turn."

"I don't know," he trailed off, hesitant to accept.

"You gotta! I never get to see you fight!" Telemachus begged, and he caved.

"Well if you insist. But go easy on me, I'm not as young and spry as I used to be," he said, and now it was Athena's turn to laugh. She threw her head back as she cackled, loud and hearty. She wiped a tear from her eye, glancing over to see matching quizzical expressions.

"Wait, you're serious? After what you did to Poseidon? Absolutely not," she deadpanned.

"You fought Poseidon?" Telemachus practically screamed in his ear, making him flinch away.

"You mean you haven't told him? If you ask me, that should've been the first story you shared," Athena mused.

"Come on, you gotta tell me what happened!" he hopped in place and shook his father by the shoulders until he relented with a chuckle.

"Well, it's kinda a long story. One you'll hear at dinner so your mother can enjoy it too," he deflected.

"Boooo!" Telemachus whined, giving him a thumbs down. "You can tell it twice!"

"He just wouldn't let me go home! So I stabbed him until he called off his storm," he huffed out, telling an abridged version to satisfy his son.

"With his own trident," she added. Telemachus stared at his father in awe.

"Whoa," he said breathlessly. Odysseus rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"What can I say? I had limited options," he shrugged, ducking his head down.

"Why so bashful all of a sudden?" Athena asked, cocking her head as she looked down at him. Odysseus gawked, face turning red.

"What? I am not!"

"If you say so," she conceded. "Now, what's do you say you and I have a go, just like old times?" she asked, shooting Telemachus a wink out of the other's sight. He arched a brow quizzically, unsure of what plan she had brewing up. But whatever it was, he wanted in on it.

"You're on."

Athena lulled him into a false sense of security, sparring bantering back and forth before she struck. She dodged his attack, managing to disarm him as she spun around, locking one arm beneath his and held the back of his neck as she held his own sword to his throat with the other.

"Alright, you win," he held his hands up in, surrender, furrowing his brows when she didn't move. "Um... did I... do something wrong?" he questioned, not daring to move an inch.

"Not at all. I just noticed you seemed a little down today."

"Athena," he warned, tensing with a gasp as she squeezed the back of his neck. Telemachus watched on curiously.

"Do you remember my lessons on morale?" she asked, ignoring the threat.

Odysseus was squirming now, tugging at her arms, but she held firm.

"Come on 'Thena, not here," he whined, voice dropped to nearly a whisper. The nickname melted her heart, and made her feel only a little guilty for what she was about to do.

"You mean not in front of the kid?" she taunted, waiting until he opened his mouth to speak before scribbling at the nape of his neck.

Odysseus yelped and flailed around in her hold, scrunching his neck for protection.

"Hey stop! What are you doing to him?" Telemachus protested as he saw his father struggle in Athena's hold. From where he sat, it looked as though she was about to snap his neck. She flashed him a sly, knowing smile.

"Yeah Odysseus, what am I doing?" she asked in such a playful tone, even Telemachus hadn't heard.

"Huh?" he cocked his head, confusion knitting his brows together.

Odysseus clamped his mouth shut, but a wobbly smile tugged at the corners of his lips. She tossed the practice weapon aside, scratching just behind his ears with both hands. He snorted and tossed his head around, grimacing as he tried to contain the giggles building up inside his chest.

"Come on, you're usually so talkative," Athena prompted, reaching around to flutter under his chin. He threw himself back to try and get away, but only succeeded in leaning against Athena's chest for support, feet frantically pushing against the ground as he fought to escape.

Telemachus watched on with a growing smile as he realized what was happening.

"Wait, father, are you ticklish?" he asked, not bothering to hide his excitement.

"No!" Odysseus choked out, yelping when Athena reached down to tweak his hip.

"Ignore him, he loves to lie. But you didn't think you got your sensitivity from your mother, did you?" she asked, somehow finding a way to tease both of them at once. Telemachus looked away, cheeks dusted a light pink.

"Well, yeah, kinda," he admitted, unable to take his eyes off the pair. Athena rolled her eyes fondly, easily evading the frantic hands slapping at her wrists.

"You share more similarities with your father than you might think," she said, shooting him another wink. Odysseus shoved at her arms as they wrapped around his waist, shrieking when she picked him up off the ground.

"No! Put me dohohown! Stohohop!" he broke down into deep chuckles that were quickly melting into hysterical giggles. Telemachus had only ever heard his father laugh like that when he told terrible jokes, but he had always kind of assumed he was playing it up for his behalf. He didn't know he actually giggled like that! It was a funny, infectious laugh that seemed adorably out of place.

"Careful what you ask for," Athena smirked before dropping him to the ground, quickly pinning his arms above his head. He desperately pulled at his arms, surprisingly strong despite being mortal. "You sure are struggling a lot. I think I might need some help," Athena raised her voice, making the hint as unsubtle as possible. Telemachus was by their side in a heartbeat, sporting a mischievous smirk.

Odysseus could only grin wider as he shook his head. "Son, wait! She's ticklish too, wouldn't you rather go after a God?" he tried to bargain by deflecting the attention onto Athena, who scoffed in disbelief.

"Excuse me?" She drilled her thumbs in the center of his exposed pits for even suggesting such a thing. Telemachus ignored his father's screams for mercy, tapping his chin as he considered the offer.

"Sounds tempting, but you're the one pinned down," he reasoned with a shrug, planting himself on his kicking legs. Athena held up a hand for an approving fist bump.

"Wise choice."

He grinned as he knocked their knuckles together, adding a few extra slaps and bumps. Athena's hand just hovered there awkwardly, not copying any of the steps he taught her. He shrugged, "Eh, still needs some work."

Telemachus wasted no more time and latched onto his knees, squeezing around the bone. Odysseus snorted and tried to kick his trapped legs, barely able to move them an inch. He couldn't help but laugh along at his reactions, noting, "Wow, mom was right! You do have a funny laugh!"

His words sparked a blush to spread across his cheeks as he cried out in protest, "Shehehe sahaid whahahat?" Logically, Odysseus knew Penelope talked about him while he was away, or at least, he hoped she would. But she really talked about him, not just the legends he left behind. She humanized him...

Maybe a little too much, but still.

"No no, she said it in a good way!" Telemachus assured, spidering over his knees with blunt nails. Odysseus wheezed, drumming his legs against the ground to cope with the ticklish jolts shooting through his nerves.

"I agree Odysseus, your laughter is quite endearing. It's such a shame we don't hear it more often," Athena chimed in. He whined through his giggles, unable to pull his arms down from where she had them pinned. She traced maddening circles against his exposed hollows, making him squeal and arch his back. But no matter how hard he tried, he remained trapped between his son and his friend.

Granted, he might not be trying all that hard. What? He hadn't laughed like this in years, so sue him. And Telemachus seemed to be having fun, so why stop him?

He shook his head in denial, blushing profusely at her words. "Nohoho ihihit's nohoHOHOHOT!"  Loud cackles abruptly gave way to a hysterical shriek as Athena began scratching the spot just behind his ears with long, sharp nails. A stream of giggles and snorts spilled past his lips, nose scrunching adorably.

"I don't know, you sound pretty cute right about now," she drawled, leaning over him to "inspect" his face. Odysseus giggled and tried to look away, failing to protect his now exposed ear with his shoulder.

"'Thehehenaha!" he whined, sounding all too giddy to actually mean anything by it.

"Yep, you look cute too-"

"Ohoho just shut up!"

Athena mock gasped, and Telemachus covered his mouth in shock.

"Uh oh," he teased in a sing song tone, poking all around his stomach. He twitched with each touch, pulling on his arms desperately each time he felt that nagging finger wiggle into the slight pudge of his belly.

"Oh you're gonna regret that," Athena growled playfully. She turned his head to the side, keeping him pinned with one hand. She took a loud, exaggerated breath just so he would know what was coming.

His eyes widened in giddy fear and his thrashing grew stronger once he connected the dots. Empty protests fell past his lips, "No, no wahahait! I'm sohorry, I'm sorryyyy! Plehease dooooon't!" He was already giggling, and his smile only grew wider.

Telemachus couldn't help but laugh along and tease, "She hasn't even touched you yet!"

"Bullshit! You both HAHAHAHAVE! Ohohokahay, oKAHAY! I GEHEHET IHIHIT!" he squealed as Athena leaned in to blow a loud, obnoxious raspberry on the side of his neck. She grabbed his hair and moved his head so she could get the other side.

Not wanting to be left out, Telemachus clawed at his father's stomach, encouraged by his hysterical laughter. Odysseus jolted in place, unable to curl in on himself for protection. The only thing he could do was kick frantically and laugh his heart out.

Which, unfortunately for him, caught his son's attention.

"Great idea, dad! Can't forget about the feet!" he taunted, wrestling his legs down to untie his sandals.

"Nohoho, plehehease! Ihi don't deserve thihihis!" he pleaded, hiding his face behind a pinned arm. Athena snorted in amusement and pulled away to stare down at her friend.

"Actually, if anyone deserves a good laugh, it would be you," she said, her tone softer, yet still teasing.

"Hehehey!" he whined at the remark, his blush now reaching the tips of his ears.

"Yeah, laughing at your own jokes doesn't really count," Telemachus added, raking blunt nails down his arches.

"HEHEHEY!" Odysseus shrieked indignantly at the comment. He tried to keep his feet planted on the ground, but all it took was a quick scribble against the backs of his knees to get him kicking again. "Ihihit counts!" he insisted through deep, rumbly chuckles.

Both Athena and Telemachus rolled their eyes. Telemachus decided to take it a step further and shrugged, unable to hide his smirk.

"Does it though?" he asked skeptically. Before Odysseus could answer, he scratched just beneath his toes. Odysseus cackled wildly, thrashing around as best he could, bucking hard enough to throw Telemachus off.

Athena took that as her cue to back off as well, releasing his arms from where they were pinned. He either didn't have the strength to pull them down, or he just didn't care at this point.

Odysseus let out a giggly groan, throwing his head back against the ground. "You two ahare thehehe worst!" he spoke through residual giggles, but didn't mean a word of what he said.

"Yeah, but I learned from the best!" Telemachus quipped, reaching out to pinch his side one last time. Odysseus jerked away, finally yanking his arms down as he barked out a laugh.

Odysseus scoffed in amusement, a wide smile still plastered on his face. He doubted it would be going anywhere for a long time.

He shook his head fondly, gently shoving at his son's shoulder. "You're a real piece of work. Both of you," he added, shooting Athena a playful glare.

Athena decided not to say anything... to him. She just smirked and addressed Telemachus, as if Odysseus wasn't even there. "Notice how he said just about everything except stop," she noted smugly, and Telemachus muffled his giggles behind his hands.

Odysseus gasped, his fading blush quickly returning. "Well- I- you two looked like you were having fun," he justified with a huff, crossing his arms as he looked away.

"Like you weren't!" Telemachus goaded, throwing his arms around him in a bear hug, rocking side to side.

He couldn't help but give in to the smile tugging at his lips. "It was coerced." Telemachus laughed and shoved him away.

"Oh whatever!"

"Regardless," Athena piped up, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "It's... refreshing, hearing you laugh again." Odysseus placed a hand atop her own, leaning into the touch.

"Yeah well, you better not make it a habit. There's easier ways to make me laugh, you know," he sassed.

"Ah, but this is the most entertaining," she shot back.

He turned to Telemachus, pointing with his thumb at Athena over his shoulder. "See what I mean? Piece of work."

"Careful, or I'll go for round two," she warned.

"Maybe tomorrow. After all, I believe I'm overdue for some revenge."

"Is that so?" she cocked her head, and Odysseus nodded smugly.

"Yup."

"Well then, you'll have to earn it," she teased, standing up and offering him a hand.

"And you better watch your back, because the tickle monster strikes when you least expect it," he threatened, pointing at Telemachus.

He giggled nervously and took a step back, a pale blush dusting his cheeks. "I'll uh, keep my guard up."

The response made Odysseus throw his head back with a hearty chuckle. He threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer and ruffling his hair.

"Just relax. You won't even see it coming."

"That's not as comforting as you think it is," he deadpanned.

"It wasn't meant to be," Odysseus quipped, and Athena had to stifle a snicker at the comment. "But I believe it's about time we head back for dinner."

Telemachus whined, even though he knew his father was right.

"We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow," she promised.

"Or you could join us," Odysseus invited after a moment's hesitation. The offer took her off guard, but she softened nonetheless.

"Really? I wouldn't want to intrude…"

"Come on, 'Thena! It'll be fun!" Telemachus encouraged, tugging on her arm.

"Yeah, and you'll get to hear the story about how I stabbed your uncle until he cried."

"In that case, how could I resist?"

The three walked back to the palace, chatting all the way. It may very well be true that Athena and Telemachus were closer than they had ever been, but that doesn't mean the friendship wasn't still there. And Telemachus thought the world of him, that much was made clear.

Now that he thought about it, he didn't know why he had been so worried in the first place. He was home, he was loved, and that's all that matters.

[lesbiansforboromir]

Alright, I was holding off for journalistic integrity but now that I've seen the WotR film I can make posts about it without restraint.

Jesus christ the racial politics of this film are atrocious. Some character might as well just tell Wulf 'not to play the race card'. Wulf is a liberal snowflake who blames racism for all his troubles and can't pull himself up by his bootstraps and he is also brown-skinned and obsessively pursues our PORCLAIN white dainty-drawn female protagonist with both romantic and murderous intent. Oppression of dunlendings by the Rohirrim exists only in Wulf's head apparently, though it can be tasted in every spat 'dunlending' perjorative that comes from Helm or Haleth's mouth. But Hera has absolutely no racism within her of course! She refuses Wulf because she doesnt want to marry anyone and Wulf just assumes it's because his dunlending blood disgusts her, so entitled of him!

But also maybe the racism is '''justified'''? If it exists? Which it doesn't! But IF it did, don't worry because ONCE AGAIN all the dunlendings are just greedy, clutching, unwashed, skull wearing, violent barbarians with no unique culture to speak of and no reasons to be making war on Rohan except to sieze what isn't theirs (ignoring the fact that it totally was theirs until Rohan seized it from them and OH BOY are we ignorin' that) And the only dunlending we see not frothing at the mouth for violence or showing any introspective depth at all is General Targg who is the mouthpiece with which we get to hear 'the girl (Hera) is right' whereupon he is promptly killed by Wulf.

Oh but of course, what else could Helm have done? Freca was some greedy FAT man (boy does everyone love calling him fat, happy to lean into THAT aspect of canon) whose lands were too prosperous for his own good (hang on isn't keeping your lands prosperous the platonic ideal of lordship?) And he called a 'Witan' (no he didn't, he came to one of the regular councils of lords that Helm called himself) just to make a scene about how Helm was going to marry Hera to a lord of gondor which is bad because Gondor has some nebulous hold over Rohan so Hera should marry Wulf instead (literally none of that, Freca simply asked Helm to wed his daughter to Wulf, his son, a completely normal and legitimate political strategy to secure a better relationship with the King's family since Helm already mistrusted him for having dunlending blood. Freca is a lord of Rohan, he is rich, he traces his ancestry back to King Freawine, this could not be a more reasonable suggestion in canon.)

SO OBVIOUSLY Helm had to get angry and call Freca fat again (true he did do that) and THEN claim that Freca only wanted his throne (there was never any suggestion of this in the books, it was just the offer of marriage which insulted Helm) to which Freca answered "Old kings that refuse a proffered staff may fall on their knees," and Helm is like okay lets take this outside.

And now THIS change is actually so important in understanding the extreme nature of the Rohir/Helm favouritism that is the main focus of this film. In the film Helm pretty much immediately takes Freca outside, he reassures Frealaf that Freca just needs to be shown his place, this is the only way to settle the matter, if he doesn't embarass him here then Freca will try to take his crown and slay his family apparently, his hunch ig etc etc. Freca punches Helm three times in full view of the whole of Edoras including Freca's two men who came with him, then Helm punches him back and he is knocked out cold and dead by the time he hits the ground. Film!Helm does not realise he has done this and tells Freca to get up, Wulf realises his father is dead and threatens Helm with revenge, swords are draw against him which he tries to calm before Wulf attacks him. Helm incapacitates Wulf, his sons draw THEIR swords and Helm exiles Wulf for drawing his sword on his king. Messy right? Like not a good thing to do, generally brawling with your lords is a bad idea full stop, but if you fear for the lives of your children then idk maybe it's excusable? And then it's just an unfortunate series of events right? And Freca was rude and insulting to a king in his own halls, heat of the moment etc etc

I feel so comfortable in telling you that Helm murders Freca in cold blood in the books, fully intending that to be the outcome.

He does not take him outside initially, Book!Helm tells Freca that this marriage dispute isn't important and they will deal with it later. And then;

When the council was over, Helm stood up and laid his great hand on Freca’s shoulder, saying: "The king does not permit brawls in his house, but men are freer outside"; and he forced Freca to walk before him out from Edoras into the field. To Freca’s men that came up he said: "Be off ! We need no hearers. We are going to speak of a private matter alone. Go and talk to my men!" And they looked and saw that the king’s men and his friends far outnumbered them, and they drew back. "Now, Dunlending," said the king, "you have only Helm to deal with, alone and unarmed. But you have said much already, and it is my turn to speak. Freca, your folly has grown with your belly. You talk of a staff! If Helm dislikes a crooked staff that is thrust on him, he breaks it. So!" With that he smote Freca such a blow with his fist that he fell back stunned, and died soon after. Helm then proclaimed Freca’s son and near kin the king’s enemies; and they fled, for at once Helm sent many men riding to the west marches.

(Appendices, 'The House of Eorl', emphasis mine)

I think we can all agree that forcing someone out of your city, isolating them away from their fellows with threats of violence, telling them you will break them, killing them in one blow and then proclaiming their kin your enemies and forcing them to flee to escape a murderous pursuit, is pretty clearly premeditated murder. There is not much nuance here, Freca tresspassed over a line with Helm that Dunlendings are not allowed to cross and Helm killed him for it.

And listen like, the description of this whole story within the appendices is barely more than three pages. This is not an obscure missable aspect of the tale, nor is it outside of what rights they had to adapt. The choice was made, actively, ONCE AGAIN by the Warner Bros cinematic universe makers, to drastically alter book events in order to sand down any immorality within Rohan's narrative, especially where the Dunlendings are concerned. And in the end the only 'mistake' Helm is allowed to learn and grow from is some nebulous and trite 'not believing enough in his daughter' schpiel, which needs to be the subject of a whole 'nother post actually.

And what's agonising is they COULD have done it like they were so close, there are multiple moments where me and my friend watching were like struck!! With grief! Over how impactful this moment could have been if only the racism actually existed as an acknowledged theme in the story. If only it was something Hera had to come to terms with, if only IT was the true driver of these horrors to the point where it's Avatar, Hera's father, a man who loves her and whom she has loved all her life, turns into a cold icey ghost of brutality, far more vicious and barbaric than the people he so reviles, and reveals to her the terrible truth of his actions and motivations. It's agony I tell you.

Anyway I did not like the film.

[doodle-pops]

Lords of Gondolin | When You Kabedon Them vs When They Kabedon You

Request: For the house gondolin would you be willing to do a group headcanon for kabedoning their s/o vs getting kabedoned by their s/o? 👉👈 Have a great December!

A/N: Oh anon, I hope this was done to your liking, and what you were expecting. Enjoy!

Synopsis: How the elves react when you corner them compared to when they corner you.

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.𑁍༊˚ Galdor

Galdor had never really considered himself the sort to be easily flustered. He was a warrior, a leader, someone who had seen battle and withstood its horrors without so much as a tremor. But then, of course, you had to go and press him up against the nearest wall, one hand braced beside his head, your expression positively devious.

He blinked at you as he tried to make sense of what was happening. “Are you trying to intimidate me?” His tone was dubious, a little amused even, but there was the faintest pink creeping up his ears.

The moment you leaned in, his composure wavered. He cleared his throat, but his voice had a rough edge when he spoke again. “This seems unfair. I am entirely unarmed.”

If you stole a kiss, he would recover quickly, cupping your face in his hands and pulling you in for another, deeper one—one that was far more calculated than your spontaneous attempt.

You did, however, manage to fully catch him off guard one evening after training when he was weary and unsuspecting. He had barely unbuckled his sword belt when you cornered him in the hallway. He actually took a step back before realising what you were doing. “...Must you do this while I am defenceless?”

If you ever caught him in a moment of deep contemplation and suddenly kabedon’d him, he would take an obnoxiously long pause before looking at you and saying, “Ah. You have finally lost your senses.”

When Galdor kabedons you:

He is not usually the sort to try and fluster you just for the fun of it, but if you had been provoking him all day, he had no qualms about giving you a taste of your own medicine.

He did not do it gently, nor did he do it lightly. One moment you were standing with him in the corridor, and the next your back was against stone, his arm braced above your head. He leaned down slightly, his voice low. “Let us see how you like it, hm?”

He would be very, very close. Not close enough to kiss you—no, that would be too easy—but close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, could see the sharp amusement in his eyes.

If you tried to lean away, he would follow, not letting you escape quite so easily. His lips would quirk in amusement. “Is this not what you wanted?”

When he did kiss you, it was slow and deliberate, his free hand settling against your hip as if to keep you in place. “I think,” he murmured, “that you rather like this.”

.𑁍༊˚ Ecthelion

Ecthelion was entirely unreadable when you kabedon’d him. He merely arched a brow, his arms crossed over his chest as he regarded you with mild amusement.

“An interesting tactic,” he mused, as if you were in the middle of some military strategy discussion. “And what is your next move?”

You were prepared for teasing, for flustering him, but not for the way he subtly leaned into you, just enough that your breath caught. “Do you intend to keep me here all day, or shall we get to the part where you lose your nerve?”

You did not lose your nerve. You kissed him instead, triumphant, only to realise he had caught your wrist in his grasp, his smirk widening slightly. “Predictable,” he murmured, before reversing the situation entirely.

You were the one against the wall before you could even react, and now he was the one looking down at you, all dark eyes and silent laughter. “You will have to do better than that, meleth.”

You once tried to do this after he had been drinking, assuming his reactions would be slower. The plan backfired. Instead of looking surprised, he merely sighed and reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You are determined to test me, aren’t you?”

If you ever did this in front of others, he would react with the same composure, but there would be the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips, like he was trying not to smirk. The moment you were alone, he would absolutely pay you back for it.

When Ecthelion kabedons you:

It was always precise, calculated. He never wasted movement. One moment you were standing comfortably, and the next his arm was caging you in, his gaze sharp with amusement.

“I do wonder,” he murmured, “if you ever consider the consequences of your actions before you enact them.”

The problem with Ecthelion was that he was utterly unreadable. You could not tell if he was teasing or if he genuinely intended to keep you there.

He leaned down, close enough that his nose nearly brushed yours. “You do this often enough. I felt it was only fair to return the favour.”

He always left you thoroughly flustered, if only because he had an uncanny ability to anticipate your every reaction.

.𑁍༊˚ Glorfindel

Glorfindel was not prepared. At all.

One moment, he was talking, all confidence and charm, and the next—bam—your hand was beside his head, your gaze sharp and unwavering.

He blinked at you, utterly confused. “Meleth, are you feeling well?” Unlike Ecthelion, who would lean into the game, or Galdor, who would remain infuriatingly calm, Glorfindel simply did not know how to react.

You had to explain why you were doing it. That only resulted in him grinning at you in a way that made your heart race. “Ah. So this is meant to be intimidating?”

He made it impossible. He leaned against the wall like he was comfortable, like you had not just cornered him. “Oh no,” he said, grinning. “I am at your mercy. Whatever shall I do?”

When you kissed him, he hummed into it, pleased. “I should let you pin me against walls more often.” If you held your ground, he would try very hard to keep his composure, but the faint pink dusting his cheeks betrayed him.

Once, you caught him off guard—he had been mid-sentence when you abruptly pressed him against the wall. He actually stammered for a moment before laughing. “Alright, alright. That was well played.”

When Glorfindel kabedons you:

Oh, you were in trouble.

Glorfindel did not hesitate. The moment he decided to turn the tables, he moved—quick, effortless, and before you knew it, you were against the wall, his body caging you in.

He never did it seriously. It was always playful, always teasing. One arm braced above your head, his other hand catching your chin. “I wonder,” he murmured, “if this is how you feel when you do it to me.”

He made everything ten times worse by smiling through it, utterly delighted by your reaction.

“You look rather lovely when you are trying not to blush.”

If you tried to escape, he would just chuckle and lean in further, trapping you even more effectively. “No, no. I worked hard for this. Let me have my moment.”

The worst part? He would always kiss you after, slow and deep, as if he had won whatever game you were playing.

.𑁍༊˚ Egalmoth

Egalmoth was far too confident for his own good, so when you kabedon’d him, he did not look the least bit intimidated. If anything, his lips quirked in amusement as he tilted his head. “Ah, so this is how we’re playing today?”

He was annoyingly comfortable with it, even bracing one hand over yours as if he were the one trapping you. “How daring. What do you intend to do now?”

The moment you leaned in, he smirked and closed the distance for you, catching your lips before you could even tease him properly.

He was the worst person to try this on because he would never let you win. If you thought you had the upper hand, he would simply turn the tables on you before you even realised it.

You once caught him off guard—truly off guard—while he was reading. He nearly dropped the book, his eyes flicking up to yours with uncharacteristic surprise. That was a victory.

“Is this some new form of strategy?” he mused. “Because if so, I must say, I quite enjoy it.”

If you really wanted to fluster him, you had to get creative. One evening, you cornered him when he had just finished bathing, his hair still damp, his robe loosely tied. That was when he let out a sharp breath and actually hesitated.

When Egalmoth kabedons you:

Oh, he lived for this. You had done it to him once, so naturally, he had to return the favour—dramatically.

It was never just a simple kabedon. No, he had to lean in, let his fingers ghost over your jaw, tilt your chin just so—all while wearing that insufferable smirk.

“Caught you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement.

If you tried to look away, he would chuckle, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “Now, now. You started this game, meleth. Do not falter now.”

He would always steal a kiss at the end of it, just to make sure he walked away victorious.

.𑁍༊˚ Rog

Rog was not easily flustered, but he was a bit too straightforward for these kinds of games. When you kabedon’d him, he just stared at you like you had lost your mind.

“Are you trying to threaten me?” His tone was dubious, but there was an amused spark in his eyes.

You leaned in closer, trying to keep up the act, and that was when you saw his reaction��his hands twitched like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. His ears went slightly pink.

“You are playing a dangerous game,” he muttered, his voice lower than before.

The moment you actually kissed him, he melted into it before realising what had happened. Then, with a scoff, he pulled you into a proper kiss, one that left you breathless. “Next time, you will have to do better than that.”

You tried it once while he was in the middle of explaining battle formations to his men. The reaction was instant. He just stopped, his mouth slightly open, his soldiers staring.

“I—” He blinked down at you, utterly baffled. “...Now?”

If you ever pinned him properly, using all your strength, he would let you, just to humour you. But the moment you got too smug, he would effortlessly reverse it, his grin sharp. “Nice try.”

When Rog kabedons you:

He was fast. One moment you were standing there, and the next your back was against the wall, his arm braced above you, his other hand resting on his hip.

“So,” he drawled, entirely too amused. “How does it feel to be on the other side?”

He did not tease like the others—he was too confident for that. Instead, he just watched your reaction, his sharp gaze taking in every flicker of emotion.

If you blushed, he smirked. If you tried to act unaffected, he would leanin, just close enough to test your resolve.

“You do this too often,” he murmured. “Perhaps I should start returning the favour more.”

He always kissed you at the end, but his were deep, possessive things, leaving you breathless and very aware of how easily he could overwhelm you.

.𑁍༊˚ Maeglin

Maeglin had spent his whole life controlling his emotions, keeping his expressions carefully neutral. But when you kabedon’d him?

He froze. Not visibly, not obviously—but you saw the sharp intake of breath, the slight tension in his jaw.

“What,” he said slowly, “are you doing?”

His voice was too steady, too controlled. You could feel the way his pulse had quickened slightly beneath that carefully crafted mask.

You leaned in, tilting your head, watching for any sign of weakness. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he wanted to react but refused to.

“This is—” He cut himself off when your breath ghosted over his skin, his grip tightening. He knew he was losing.

The second you kissed him, his entire frame went tense—but then his hands shot up, gripping your waist with sudden force, pulling you in.

“You like doing this to me, don’t you?” His voice was low, almost a growl.

He let you win for exactly five seconds before flipping the situation entirely. Now you were the one caged against the wall, and he was far too close. “Let us see how you like it.”

When Maeglin kabedons you:

He was silent about it. No teasing, no warning. One moment you were standing, and the next you were trapped.

His hand was braced firmly against the wall, his eyes dark as they flicked over your face, taking in every tiny reaction.

He didn’t need words. He just let the tension sit between you, watching as your confidence wavered.

And then slowly he leaned in.

“You do not look so smug now,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You were the one flustered now, and he relished every second of it.

He would wait before kissing you, just to see you squirm, just to make sure you felt the anticipation. And when he did kiss you? It was deep, slow, utterly consuming.

“You thought this would be a game,” he murmured afterwards, his lips brushing your ear. “You should have known better.”

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[soupdwelling]

npmd headcanons i’m coming up with as i type this also i’m half asleep

richie used to have the craziest magic school bus hyper fixation for like a solid two years

ruth was the kid who just ate random shit all the time like she’s ask to borrow a pencil and when she gave it back it looked like a family of beavers went to town on it

when grace was asked to draw a family portrait in kindergarten she included god like just hanging out in the air above her and her parents

max treated dodgeball like the olympics throughout all of elementary school and he and kyle and jason were the kids that wore basketball shorts in below freezing weather

steph was forced into piano lessons as a kid and did them for like 8 years and her teacher was like 97 years old and his house smelled like mothballs and dust and there was no lighting even though he had like 15 vintage lamps for some reason she hated it so bad

pete has broken the same leg like 5 times he just has one bone that is so susceptible to breaking for absolutely no reason it just does that

grace used to pretend jesus was her imaginary friend she’d sit in the grass at recess and genuinely just talk to the air next to her like it was jesus. which is kind of sad actually

one of richies earliest experiences of gender envy was the main dude from sword art online i forgot his name

steph was one of those girls who like pretended to be a fairy at recess and had like a rivalry with a different fairy kingdom and one time stacy or something betrayed her for the other fairy kingdom because they had their headquarters at a better tree and steph didn’t forgive her for like two years

ruth is super prone to almost drowning. she knows how to swim in theory but she just loves to get into situations near large bodies of water she’s almost drowned so many times

richie has burnt most of the taste buds off on his tongue because he religiously eats warheads and was once dared by ruth to eat as many at once as possible and nearly threw up

pete is an avid roblox player and would never admit it to anyone

max is weirdly good at taking care of fish. he had a beta fish when he was younger and kept it alive for a solid 5 years he didn’t recover for like a year after it died and that event honestly might have contributed to his current behavior it really hit him hard

[mushroomates]

aragorn headcanons:

sketches in his free time. likes to draw plants he’s come across, writes down descriptions for later. makes maps and draws animals.

cannot draw people, for the life of him.

except for arwen. draws her all the time.

used to very bland food, cooking on the road. prefers unseasoned meat, likes to taste the “natural flavor.”

dislikes nutmeg. cinnamon feind

favorite cookie is oatmeal raisin

has very grimy hands all the time. it’s never ending. even after he washes them, it’s like immediate dirt and grease

current theories are: his sword is just really dirty, his clothes are dirty so when he touches them it makes them dirty, or legolas’s favorite- humans naturally produce grime so the dirt is a natural protective layer above the skin.

in actuality it’s because he knows it grosses (some) elves out and likes to be a menace. specifically targets erestor. legolas will also go great lengths to make sure aragorns hands star far, far away from his hair

knows some card tricks. has great slight of hand specially because of these card tricks. didn’t really do anything with this until pippin discovered this fact and aragorn was forced (politely asked) to preform for the hobbits.

this is, in spite of the fact, that they all know a literal WIZARD (gandalf was salty at abt this “false magic”) and also a ring that turns ppl invisible??

sews. really well, actually. enjoys it but rarely showcases this talent- mostly patches and mends garments weathered by his lifestyle. would one day love to sew a dress for arwen but doesn’t know where to start

masterful at subtly deflecting compliments.

very generous with compliments of his own, but are again, subtle.

years of living with elves has made him quite reserved. yet, he is doing his best to unlearn this behavior. such examples include:

telling arwen he loves her. telling elrond he loves him. telling frodo he loves him. really just telling everyone he loves them. he’s even worse when he’s drunk- he rarely gets even tipsy, but under the influence of a fine wine (or mead, he prefers mead or ciders) he will get very emotional.

hugs!! aragorn loves to give hugs. he really tries his best but they’re a bit awkward at times. he’s getting better.

breaking away from the elven raw-diet and dine seasonings with grilled meat and more lately grilled everything.

he will try his best to cook for himself at any opportunity. it was a jarring shift going from being served gourmet eleven dinners to raw venison

love language is acts of service. he likes to cook for his friends, though he’s not as good as it as sam, who cooked a majority of fellowship meals, so he mainly hunts. then legolas offered his hand and gimli felt challenged by that and at this point boromir just felt excluded-

he just wants to do nice things for the people he cares abt.

arwen has not, for a good chunk of her life, tied her own shoes, peeled her own oranges, made her own tea, or woken up without breakfast being made or ready for her.

just. guys. he really really loves arwen. he will do anything for her and it’s almost obnoxious.

it IS obnoxious if you ask legolas. but this is why aragorn does not go to legolas for romantic advice. (legolas once told aragorn that the next time he ties her shoes he should tie them together so that when she falls he will catch her. this is why arwen stoped flats with ties and opted for anything she could slip on instead.)

will never cheat at any sort of game. he will get extremely upset if you accuse him of such.

he does not believe that counting cards qualifies as cheating. boromir strongly disagrees. he mainly sticks to chess, now

is not allowed to play chess with erestor, (sore loser and prone to trash talk) elrond (matches take to long due to overthinking on both ends and this annoys arwen to no end) and either of the twins (they cheat by working as a team)

would 100% believe in bigfoot.

[sulfies]

If I Lead (pt3)

Part 2 here

Vincesco stood true by his word.

 Desmond didn't even need to use most of his skillset which he was happy about. He took it easy and dodged when he needed and accepted some punches when It seemed like he was going overboard. He was not trying to climb the ranks in a race and make a name, he just needed to be off the training wheels. And It had worked. The young lad looked a bit pissed off about not winning against him but Desmond didn't care much about it.

The next day he was given instructions and pocket money to get himself some gear that fitted him. Now equipped with warmer clothes and shoes that actually fit he was faring better. 

Marsilio also was paying him quite a good amount of money for basically doing nothing but walking around and swinging his sword to train every now and then…. He really couldn't understand why the mercenaries complained about Ezio cutting their wages since he became in charge, just how much Mario was paying them before?

A month passed in this new lazy routine.

He made home in his guard tower. He was used to sleeping outside and wasting money on rent seemed unnecessary when he had little to no belongings. He bought himself some extra blankets to cushion the stone ground and shield from the cold wind at night. His lodging was enough for him.

He was rarely in it unless he was sleeping anyway.

He would wake up before dawn, bathe in the stream right outside the village a few minutes away if he needed, and then he would make his way to the barracks.

It was peaceful really…

He was terribly bored.

There was not much for him to do, sometimes he would get called to patrol outside the woods to see if any bandits were camping around but they have yet to see one since he has been here. Every now and then he would group with some people for training, but most of the time he was left alone as long as he reported to the barracks first thing of the day.

He had taken hunting as a hobby, going out around mid-noon to catch some small game to bring to the butcher. It gave him food and some extra savings money. He wanted to save enough to buy a horse so he could travel without problems, taking detours if he needed but horses were expensive. 

The barracks stable had a few but they all had their owners and the ones that did not were there if the need arose.  Also, he really wasn't looking to be known as -the horse thief-.

Sometimes Vincesco would call him over to go for a drink at the tavern, each time he would accept with the guilt eating him from inside out. He was not supposed to lay around and get drunk. He had people he needed to get back to, people who he was to guide but he could not refuse his bosses.

So he would drink a mug or two of the piss-tasting beer, the cheapest money could find as slowly as he could till the rest were drunk enough for them to not realize he was faking his stumbles on the street. Once everyone parted he would climb up to his den and force himself to sleep.

He was going mad.

Desmond wasn't used to being this useless. He was used to waking up and having a mission to complete.

Find us a new water-source Desmond, We need food Desmond the field has yet to yield any, Desmond help us move this rocks over so we can prepare the shelter, Desmond climb up the mountain to see if there is anything that survived

and he did it all without complaints.

He travelled for days or months to see if there was anything new, he noted down any new changes he could see. He helped Shaun with whatever he needed his strength or body for. He helped Rebecca gather whatever supply she was going to need to make their lives easier. That was his job.

He was there to calm the people down, remind them that gods had not forsaken them but they had been given a new beginning. To not panic but have hope so humankind could survive long after them.

It was all bullshit really, to keep the leftover people from going mad. 

In the darkest times, religion was most of the time the home of hope they needed to shelter in. But it had worked.

They had a functioning farm, bushes that yielded berries, small huts that gave lodging to people. They were actually seeing growth after 20 years, grass was filling the land and young trees were growing taller. They were finally getting somewhere so Desmond had left on a new expedition to find some more survivors further back from the camp to see if anyone was left.

And then he was here.

Lying on his blankets he watched the stars, tracing the groups with his eyes trying to remember the names Shaun taught them, the ones he couldn't remember without his books, Rebecca had made up stupid nicknames for.

He missed them terribly nowadays… Even his father.

William had died just three years ago. The grief lingered more than he had expected. All the issues they had before seemed so small after the flare, they never patched things up but they didn't fight like they used to. Desmond knew he bore some guilt about convincing him to not go through with the shields. They all did.

They each had their turns to cry, shout and laugh crazy about it then cry some more. The three blamed themselves which in turn made Desmond blame himself more. It was an endless cycle they decided to put behind themselves to focus on the now. 

Desmond turned to his side, inhaling deeply, his hair tickling his neck from the wind. He listened to the nocturnal birds and closed his eyes. He hoped they were safe above all else. 

---------------------------

Two weeks passed by fast and Desmond's routine did not change. Wake up, bathe, barracks, busywork, hunt, do something… anything… then sleep. He had taken to sharpening the unused swords and upkeep of them for today's activity since no one else was bothering to do it. 

Near a clearing around the stable, he was sitting on a stool, sharpening one sword after another with a whetstone on his lap, adding them to a pile. 

“Actually working for your coins Domenico? You should join the others inside for a few cups.”

He looked at the voice that was calling him. Angelo, one from Marsillios circle. He gave a polite smile back. “Not much to do and I don't like drinking while the sun is up, gives me issues at night.” 

“Smart man, keeping your soldier ready for when it's needed.”

Desmond made a face at the joke, He never stepped a foot in the brothel. A lot of the recruit's freshly earned coins ended up in there almost the day they gained them… then trickled back into the economy. He did not want to think about the amount of STD’s circulating around. Even if everyone was magically clean… sex had been the last thing on his mind for a long while.

“Please, If the wife learned I even dared to breathe next to one of the honey pots she would have my head.” 

“Oh come on, how would she even know?”

He hummed in answer and smiled “Trust me she would… and I like to keep my manhood intact till I die”

Angelo laughed and walked near him. Eyeing the swords lying on a pile on the side, the ones that were ready to be polished.

“Needed me for anything?” 

The other man shifted his weight “Marsillio wanted me to let people know to be extra sharp the next few days, actually do what he says and whatnot… not that you need a reminder.”

“Why is that? Is Ser Mario coming to check the barracks again?” He had seen him a couple of times, the man usually looked around for a few minutes then joined the backroom to talk about what he needed to.

“Nah, the actual big boss is coming back any day now. Sent in a word with his bird, arrived just an hour ago to the villa.”

Desmond's whole body tensed in a second. It was not hard to figure out who the nickname belonged to.

Ezio was coming back.

He forced himself to relax. “A-ah… so we need to be on our best behaviour?”

“Mmhm. You might be asked to go to the training grounds a bit more and longer than you are used to, we need to look busy lest we want more budget cuts. The young master has already been bleeding us dry…”

Desmond gave a nervous chuckle and placed the sword in his hand on the pile. “Alright, no problem for me but I know a lot of the kids are going to groan and moan about it”

“Yeah they already are, Vinchesco is not happy about it so I'm sending you up next to him for morale.” A soft pat landed on his shoulder “Think yourself as second in charge. A small promotion with no pay raise”

Angelo left his side with a smile.

“Great”

Not great… he couldn't even hide next to the recruits as they trained.

He might visit the church just to pray and hope that Ezio doesn't give a shit about the training area and just passes by it. 

Maybe he could fake a stomachache or the plague… ask for a toilet break as soon as Ezio stepped foot through the gates…

---------------------------

For two days Desmond’s every limb was aware of every movement and talk around him. They were patrolling a lot more and training a lot longer. 

He wished he was just given the duty of cleaning around the barracks but Vincheso liked him for some reason enough to ask him to stick by his side.

“If I have to hear any more whining I might actually have them train till sunrise…”

Desmond shrugged his shoulders and he listened to him complain, not much different than the recruits. He figured it out the second day while Vinchesco’s job was to babysit the newbies, Desmond’s job was to babysit him. “You know if you guys were more strict from the get-go they wouldn't feel this comfortable crying about it.”

“And make my own job harder? Training doesn't teach a man how to swing a sword anyway, they actually need to fight to become man is what I think. I sure didn't learn how to kill from stabbing these stupid straw dummies couple times a day.”

“I'm not sure just charging into the enemy will teach them much is all I’m saying… well other than dying.”

Vinchesco leaned back onto the railing “Meh, I send the ones that show promise to the others that actually put them to work.” he waved his hand around “All this is just, keeping the meatshields sharper.”

Desmond sighed, what a way to raise an army… Ezio really needed to keep tighter reins around these bunch and overhaul the system… but he rather Ezio do that once he got to Venice and away from here.

“You are way too uptight Dominico. It's good here. We get coin, we get food, we drink then we fuck and then we sleep. Living it up like nobles almost… you should enjoy it more, I’m sure you fought plenty of battles in your youth but this is not a battlefield and we got Ser Ezio behind us if else happens. The man is his own army.”

Desmond's jaw clenched, old memories of the fall of this Monterriggioni flashing in his mind. No wonder no one was alerted till it was too late… he always thought the Village was captured way too easily.

“Mmhm… I'll try” he smiled back with a strain “Old habits die hard, that's all… the guard schedule back in Florence was way more strict.”

“More the reason to-”  “HE IS BACK! SER EZIO IS BACK”

A shout cut off Vinchesco’s word, The messenger ran towards them. 

Desmon felt the anxiety boil in his gut

“Shit…”

[perpetuallyobsessed0613]

Fontaine Characters Headcanons/Theories

Some of this info is known cause the siblings info got released but still:

Focalors

Hedonist

Really only in it for entertainment (she’s just….kinda a loser 💀💀💀😭😭😭)

Hot-headed, a little childish, gives Neuvillette a hard time (yeeeah)

Would give up her Gnosis in a heartbeat if it was needed to place a bet

But would fight tooth and nail to get it back if she lost the bet

Hydro Archon (confirmed)

Hydro (confirmed, duh) /Sword (confirmed based on her Statue of the Seven)

Arlecchino

Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers

The Knave

Used to be an actress

Method actress, used methods so outlandish she was kicked from theater

From Fontaine originally (HAH I WAS RIGHT)

Used to be an orphan

Runs an orphanage called House of the Hearth, uses it to recruit Fatui agents (!!!!!)

Those aren't gloves on her hands, she bears a curse or she's been turned into a non human entity

Pyro vision/Sword (leaks confirm she’s a Polearm!)

Cryo Delusion

Neuvillette

Stone cold serious type (he’s literally the sweetest I love him????)

Huge proponent of justice (yup!)

Chief Justice of Fontaine

Puts up with Focalors’s attitude (Pretty much 😭)

Loyal to Archon (or is he)

Descended from mermaids (YALL YALL APPARENTLY HE'S THE HYDRO DRAGON SOVEREIGN???????!!!! WTF OMG)

Waiting for Wriothesley to slip up so he can put him in the slammer once and for all (political rival mayhaps idk)

His name deconstructed means "new city": mayhaps he's awaiting a moment to dethrone the archon and reconstruct Fontaine?

Hydro/Sword (apparently he's a Catalyst user,,,,missed the opportunity to give him a fencing sword as a weapon but whatever ig)

Clordine

Assistant to Neuvillette

Bodyguard (yeeeah)

Prosecutor of Fontiane

Detail oriented, nothing gets past her

Vicious and Merciless (literally kinda the opposite but kinda not)

Eventually goes up against Arlecchino

Navia is her arch nemesis, seems as though Goldilocks is the only one having fun with their game of cat & mouse (the way I was off)

Electro (confirmed) /new weapon: Gun (Sword!)

Lyney

Super protective of Lynette (rightfully so holy shit) 

Loves the chase

Cunning (eeeeh)

Very street smart (I mean kinda yeah)

You can’t tell whether he’s putting up a front, actually enjoys his web of lies, or a little bit of both

This man's gonna get used while thinking he's using the person that's using him at some point (oh Arlecchino I swear to god you better not)

Pyro (confirmed)/Bow (confirmed)

Lynette

Something has happened to her in the past (…..well that was dark)

She’s not temperamental at all (yup)

She doesn’t smile too easily (mhm)

Strongest bond with Lyney (they twins lesgo)

Perceptive and agile (very!)

Lynette escapes her brother’s net of safety to save the traveler at some point (not so likely)

Anemo (confirmed) /Sword (confirmed)

Freminet

Youngest sibling (yup)

introverted/enjoys personal space and quiet (lmfao I knew it)

Love for the water

Renowned Diver of the Court of Fontaine (confirmed)

Silent protector of both his older siblings (idrk)

Highkey that smartest book-wise out of the siblings (again idk)

Cryo (confirmed) /Claymore (confirmed)

Sigewinne

Healer

Alchemist

Provides treatment for Wriothesley’s visual impairment

If not treatment, then she prefers sweet tasting drinks and Wriothesley prefers bitter but she still tries to get him on her new concoctions

Sibling dynamic/found family w/ Wriothesley

Hydro/Catalyst

Wriothesley

May or may not be somewhat visually impaired

If so, not particularly compliant with treatment

If not treatment, then he prefers bitter tasting drinks and sometimes humors Sigewinne by trying her new concoctions, mostly just pretends he’s converted to sweet and then goes for coffee or tea anyways

Likes to tease Sigewinne

Sibling dynamic/found family w/ Sigewinne

Investigator for Fontaine justice system (woeful news, he's a police officer. like not even a detective dude?)

Seems pretty chilled out, strategic, could be leading the organized crime w/Navia in secret

if he is secretly running robinhood-esque crimes with navia, then...Neuvillette sniffs something suspicious but never has the evidence to back it oop

Pyro/Claymore (He’s a Cryo Catalyst but his fists go boom boom like Heizou)

Navia

Gives off Focalors vibes (was very wrong)

Playful (yeah I mean yeah)

Career Thief OR

Notorious organized criminal in Fontaine (literally what was I on)

Robin Hood of the sewers (I mean I was kinda sorta a tiny bit right)

Crafty, craftsman (ummm I guess her mind is?)

Super sweet, wonderful character (loved her so yes)

Loves messing with Clordine by making her think she's got her but escaping right in the nick of time (….needless to say I was way off)

Geo (confirmed)/Catalyst (claymore actually)

[writingoddess1125]

You Cook For them even though you suck at it-

Buggy, Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Shanks, Mihawk

Buggy

You you offer to cook for him he is hesitant. Buggy is actually a great cook and will take over making food for you if he catches you in the kitchens of the Big Top.

"I don't know about that (Y/N)-" He would say quickly as you smile at him.

"It will be fine I promise! I've gotten better!" No the fuck you hadnt- he shouldn't have trusted you with this when you set down a bowl of slop.

"Oh What the fuck (Y/N)!? What is this?! Why is it still moving?" He yelled poking some form of meat with a spoon and watching it twitch back.

"It's just rare!" You argue back. "Rare my ass!!" He yelled before forcing himself to take a bite.

He quite literally falls apart to the ground.

Luffy

Luffy would be excited that you offered to cook for him. Being too happy to ignore the weird smell from the kitchen and from the bowl you set down.

He quickly tucked in, eating away at the bowl until it was gone and smiling brightly at you.

"Thank you for the meal (Y/N)!" He said cheerfully, you smiled excitedly.

"Did it taste good?" He stares at you for a moment like he was thinking. "No it was pretty disgusting" you stare at him shocked.

"Why did you eat it then?" You question at his bluntness of willing to eat something gross.

"Cause you made it!" Eh Good enough-

Zoro

Is equally as bad as a cook as you- So when the two of you come together it only means chaos.

"Zoro im going make us a special meal!" You chime, watching him nod and follow along.

In the kitchen he drinks as he watches you attempt to cook. Even using his sword to cut up random vegetables and fruit. Once done it is a jet black color pouring out purple steam- He stares at it a bit afraid before taking a bite.

Zoro body would lock up- Like he had been hit with electricity. His eyes beginning to water and he grabbed the booze again to down if quickly- all of it very quickly.

"....That was awful-"

He manages to groan out as he rubbed his face.

Sanji

Will be head over heals for you, and when you offer to cook for him his whole body freezes- His eyes wide and practically screaming to not have this done-

"M-My Love! My Sweet! No need for that I can cook for us!" He insist sweat hitting his brow.

"No No, You cook for us every night! Let me do it!" You'd insist and go into his kitchen. It would quickly turn into a battle of if he loved food more then you- Once he sees you hold the knife wrong and damn near cut off a finger he steps in.

Shaking his head at this and taking the knife from you.

"Please dont- Love you um.. are cookingly challenged- I'm taking over"

Before he kicks you out of his kitchen.

Usopp

Usopp has actually pretty good taste in food, He enjoys food and has been heavily pampered by Sanji's cooking and food he be served when visiting Kaya.

So when you offer him food at first he's happy and talks about his experiences as a 'Chef' but when you bring down a half burned and half raw fish that still seemed to be twitching and some other odd trimmings that seemed to be stewed.

"Uhhh (Y/N)- you made this?"

He would question as he stared at the questionable plate.

"Yep!" Hearing your cheery voice he tries to sweet talk and lie his way around eating it at first. But once you insist he would nod and take a hefty bite. His face draining of all color as he chewed, forcing himself to swallow as he sits frozen.

"Usopp?-"

He ends up fainting-

Shanks

Shanks will try anything once, however he found out early on that you couldnt cook- While he never openly confronts you about it he does know damn well you shouldn't be near a kitchen.

Once you offer to cook for him he is jovial as normal and supportive. However when you bring out the bowl of- what looked like what a sea beast would vomit he started to sweat. Taking a big swig of his booze before taking a bite.

His whole body shivered in disgust and paled. Slowly trying to chew as he gave you a watery smile.

"It's alright It's Alright-"

Shanks said, his face turning purple as he tried to keep the food from coming back up as quickly as it came.

Mihawk

While it may be surprising but Mihawk is the pickiest of eaters- So when you say you made him a meal, He tries to hold himself back from making any comments before he's seen it.

'Maybe it's not that bad?...'

He thinks as he takes a seat at the dining room table. Waiting quietly as he hears you clattering in the kitchen- however he knew knew it would be unpleasant when the smell hits him. You step out cheery and happy as a massive bowl is set infront of him. His eyes widened at the sight- he had seen many horrible things in his life but nothing like this-

"Why is it that color?-" He would ask as you explained away that you didn't know the exact ingredients to make it so you improvised. Mihawk took a shaky breath and leaned down to give a sniff- once the fowl odor hit his nose he pushed the bowl back.

"(Y/N) Darling. You can't cook- I can't eat this... I love you dearly but whatever is in this bowl has been damned"

[kr-han]

HiGH&LOW Random Fun Facts That You May Not Know

Disclaimer: SWORD only and the list is so random, so bear with me.

Cobra loves cupcakes, he probably has sweet tooth.

Cobra styles his hair according to his mood (not like bad or good but more like he's fired up enough or not).

Cobra has A LOT of red clothing. His real name is Hino Junpei (緋野盾兵) and the first character which is 緋 can also be read as aka which means red or scarlet.

He loves Antonio Inoki (a pro-wrestler) so much and make it his whole personality (including his red scarf).

When Cobra is drunk, he would shout, "Inoki-san, genki desuka!?". In MUGEN era, he would do it with Kohaku for the rest of the night.

Cobra admires Kohaku so much because he thinks Kohaku resembles Antonio Inoki.

Cobra has small appetite not even 1/10 of Yamato's. But he eats cupcakes.

Cobra can't draw.

Cobra didn't use sticker on LINE (the messanger).

Cobra and Yamato can't speak English. They're probably the type who'd say, "We're Japanese we don't need English!"

Yamato is afraid of cats. The reason is cat can get long.

Yamato's insult never sounds like one.

Noboru favorite food is sea cucumber. He's sea cucumber maniac.

According to Cobra Noboru type is a girl with glasses.

Dan on the other hand, can draw well. But he can't draw woman.

Rocky is a little clumsy, he forgot small things like key.

Hyuga always sleeps whenever there's no fighting nor something exciting to do.

Murayama loves corndog.

Murayama dislikes sharing his food.

G-SWORD's leaders alcohol tolerance: Cobra is rather low, Rocky is rather high, Murayama prefer to eat than drink (but according to Nakazono, Murayama didn't make any different when he's drinking or not), Hyuga prefer to sleep than anything else, and Smoky can't.

According to Kizzy, Rocky becomes a foolish/idiotic old man when he's drunk. Kizzy also said, "When he's drunk, he got no dignity whatsoever."

Murayama's favorite alcohol beverage is ryokucha-hai (which a combination of green tea and shochu. Might be wrong though, you can search: 緑茶ハイ).

Hyuga's favorite alcohol beverage is shochu.

When Oya part timer go to karaoke, they sing girl idols' songs.

Masaki do all the house chores in Amamiya's households from cleaning up to cooking.

Hiroto's favorite food is curry.

When Hiroto cooks, he only cooks curry.

Takeru is forgetful. Masaki has to remind him all the time. Hiroto? He waits to be petted by his aniki.

Kaito and Kizzy have a couple ring and they use it as necklace.

In HiGH&LOW The Movie, Kaito and Kizzy joined the fight but there's no single footage of them fighting. But they appeared before the fight and after the fight with some bruises.

From End of Sky to Final Mission, Cobra didn't wear his red scarf anymore.

Despite using his red scarf as a personality, Cobra didn't use it to fight beside for his character introduction scene in episode 1.

Ichigo Milk has been inviting Naomi to join them, but Naomi refuses due to Itokan. She wants to take care what's left by her brother.

Naomi can actually beat dudes.

Murayama keeps the strawberry bag from Oshiage and he uses it as a pillow.

Ice gave Sarah a teddy bear (and a necklace).

Ice can cook and according to Mighty Warriors' member, Ice's curry tasted like seafood when he uses zero seafood ingredients. Apparently, it matched the actor's fun fact: Elly's curry always tasted like he put seafood in it even when he's not.

There was once, Seki dressed up in sailor uniform for karaoke. Of course, they sing girl idols' songs.

Toutetsu brothers cook for Hyuga, but he sleeps almost all day long, so Katou needs to wake him up just to eat.

Ukyou cooks better than Sakyou.

Ukyou needs to separate Daruma's income into envelopes and hide them because if not, Hyuga would splurge the income into zero. Hyuga can't manage money.

Lala reads books for the kids in Mumeigai, and they literally have reading time with Lala.

Furuya has truck driver's license.

Murayama durability is top notch and it resemble his given name which is Yoshiki. His full name written like this 村山良樹 and Yoshiki (良樹) is consist of characters that mean good or skilled, and trees or wood. He's a skilled trees or wood, or whatever but that clearly means that his durability is on another level. That's why he could bear the 100 punches challenge and still fight back after that.

Hiroto and Smoky loves cat.

Murayama talked to a cat. (He's cat, but also puppy; whatever he's cute).

Murayama introduced Todoroki to Cobra in person.

Murayama has 4 vans' shoes and a pair of converse. (Haven't count how many jackets he has though, might count it when I rewatch).

At least, Tsukumo has been hit by the car twice. He should avoid getting near cars. No cars near him, please.

White Rascals' outfit are all white and it's hard to keep it clean. The visual line (Shimura, Bito, Aizawa, and Enari) has a hard time because they spend so much money for laundry and cleaning. Little did they know, Rocky actually could paid 80% of their cleaning cost. But Rocky didn't say it to them because he knows that they would be worried about how to pay Rocky back. (Rocky is so sweet). Probably the only guys that use this privilege only Koo and Kaito.

Rocky paid 100% of the girls' laundry and cleaning cost (including Kizzy).

Rocky's surname, Mutsugi, is actually a word play. It's written as 六ツ木 in Japanese. Which the character 六 can be read as mutsu (mu for short) or roku (ro for short) and it means six; ツ is a katakana for tsu and in hiragana it's written like this つ. When tsu is written small in between characters (it's called sokuon) like っ/ッ it purposes is to geminate the next character; and 木 is ki and it means tree. If we put them together and make the tsu as sokuon, we'll get 六ッ木 which read as ろっき in hiragana and ロッキ in katakana (both are rokki) we got his name, Rocky (ロッキー).

Source: rewatching the series and the movies over and over again so I can get into the useful but also useless facts, and the g-sword manga by CLAMP. If you want to read HiGH&LOW g-sword manga by CLAMP you can read HERE for English translation or DI SINI untuk translasi Bahasa Indonesia. Note: Might add more if I find or remember more. Also, I'm sorry there's too much Cobra, can't help though, I love him a little bit too much.

MORE OF IT

[kinicheous]

kisses with him

ft. xiao, kazuha, kinich

genre/notes: fluff-ish, mildly suggestive (kinich) (let me know if something is missing!)

☁︎ xiao

it feels like a little secret, sitting alone on the rooftop of wangshu inn while bustling and gleeful conversations go wild inside, visitors unaware of you and the company next to you. very close next to you.

your knee brushes against xiao’s, so do your shoulders. in the back of your head you remember the first few times you sat like this, how beat red the adeptus used to be, flustered beyond one’s comprehension. it’s better now, but it’s amusing that you can still find remnants of it — tips of his ears tinted red, eyes darting over your every feature, lips parted from mesmerization as they burn in the want to lock with yours.

xiao’s fingertips merely feather your cheek, but when you lean even closer his palm curls to fully caress its expanse. it brings a smile to your face and for as long as it remains, he allows himself forget the weight of karmic debt, breathing out in what sounds like relief. the final push is the way you place your hand on top of his, the underlying sign of mutual affection urging him to close what’s left of the gap.

it’s a light touch, and xiao is so tender in the way he moves his lips against your own, almost as if he’s afraid the slightest pressure will break you; you’re simply too dear to him, a mortal being out of many, many others that he cherishes more than he’d ever even let himself imagine, and it’s that particular feeling that makes him push just the slightest bit closer.

it’s pure tenderness that the kiss conveys, and xiao knows the taste of it will remain on his lips even after you part. yet, it’s faint, so delicate and fleeting. it’s not enough, not for an adeptus who’s living through loving and being loved for the first time, so it makes you laugh a bit when he’s quick to lean in once again.

☁︎ kazuha

for his nature to be the definition of calm, kazuha must love to make all hell break loose within you.

at this hour, the crux is just about as quiet as the vast sea is tonight. the ship’s deck is empty, even beidou, who’d been up drinking until late, is sleeping soundly and nowhere to be seen. yet, he’s being awfully carefree and comfortable with having you held between himself and the ship’s railing when anyone could come out and see at any moment.

with one hand on the wood, the other is holding your chin in the other. the bandaged fingers of a sword-user feel rough against your skin, though you hardly notice that with how soft his grip is—he’s giving you a clear opportunity to slip away from the risk of being caught, but you can’t bring yourself to do so when kisses feather from the spot below your ear, gradually further up towards the corner of your lips. your stares lock for a moment, and kazuha can’t help but let out a breath of someone utterly lovesick. “don’t give me that look,” he breaks the night silence, “you’re going to drive me insane.”

and just like that, he presses his lips against yours. upon responding to the kiss, kazuha sighs in relief, revealing the slightest hint of eagerness in the touch. he shifts from the railing to hold you closer by your lower back; in the back of your mind, you wonder if he had anything to drink tonight, but you don’t think much more about it, instead letting yourself indulge in the love he’s so shameless about giving you.

☁︎ kinich

kinich rests his weight back on his palms, one leg curled up to his chest as the other dangles from the side of his bed. you’ve been yapping for quite a while now, but he doesn’t mind at all, entertained by the fresh stories of your most recent journey outside of natlan’s borders. with that said, parts of his mind isn’t even present, something which you seem to notice in the middle of your talking. “and that traveler actually had this flying little companion with he— hey, are you listening?”

the small smile he’s been wearing this entire time doesn’t falter even as he answers, head tilting to the side, “yeah—what about the traveler?”

“oh—... well, yeah. after she proved me innocent to fontaine’s iudex—i think they were friends, by the way—we hung out a bit, she told me about her adventures, and how she was looking for her brother…” your words, trail off a bit, the excitement turning into a pout, “but she looked quite sad while talking about him. i’m sure she misses him a lot.”

“that’s not really strange, is it?” kinich responds, “waiting for someone to come home can get quite lonely sometimes.”

the wording makes you curiously glance up, but he’s already reaching a hand out, his warm palm finding your cheek. you’d lie to say it doesn’t cause an extra skip in your chest, but you hide that with a smug grin, “are you saying you’ve missed me too?”

kinich doesn’t answer through more than an airy laugh, and it surprises you when he suddenly leans in without warning. there’s only a brief pause, one where his eyes dart down to your lips, before he locks them with your own.

his kisses are gentle. every time, without fail, but there are occasions they’re accompanied with a certain longing; his hand shifts from your face to the back of your neck, like he’s trying to keep you from retreating, although he knows just fine you’re not even considering it; it takes every bit of his power to not laugh when you gasp into the touch, all while he’s not even trying to hold back how he deepens the kiss. quite a way to welcome you back.

[baelaria]

Coming back from Narnia pt. 2 Edmund

When Edmund is put back into the body of a ten year old, after having a taste of adulthood, he’s absolutely distraught. His chess pieces, Cair Paravel, the street lamp, everything’s gone.

He looks at his siblings, almost likely suffering, and they slowly stand up, hand in hand, facing the now strange world once again.

At home Helen doesn’t notice much change in her youngest boy. Apart from the newfound affection towards her and his beloved people and the interest he seems to cultivate in war strategy and chess, he looks like the boy he was before the beginning of the war.

But nothing’s like it seems.

Edmund is pestered by violent dreams full of war and bloodshed, just like Peter is. But he somehow controls them better, at least doesn’t wake up screaming at the top of his lungs. Even though sometimes he does wake up in the middle of the night, and not for the scared screaming of his brother next door, and so he silently rises from his bed, clutching tightly his night robe, scared to hit something in the dark as he ascends down the corridor to his older sister’s bedroom.

Susan barely even opens her eyes as she feels Edmund hugging her tightly, pressing his tear stained cheeks in her nightgown silently, listening to her shallow and regular heartbeat.

She slowly moves her hands through his hair until he calms down and stops shaking, until his breath becomes shallow and regular as well.

She doesn’t sing a melody, nor comforts him with words. She knows that nothing will ever fill the deep chasm that is inside Edmund’s heart since he began fighting at the ripe age of eleven. And she doesn’t mention it during the day. But their mother has found them countless times curled up into one another well past the rise of the sun, also comforting one another in deep sleep.

Edmund’s teachers find him astonishing. He’s very talented and good with words, so precise with his wording that a few classmates have started to call him silver tongue.

Ed’s flattered, but every time he hears that name he makes a very nostalgic expression, almost like remembering something far, far away.

Mostly because his counselors used to call him silver tongued, also astonished by his long formal and exquisite letters he used to write to neighboring countries in the name of Peter the Magnificent.

But he is not only good with words.

As soon as he joins the chess club, which, obviously, is one of the first things he asks to do to his mum shortly after coming back; he finds truthful rivals worth many long nights in front of fireplaces with a chessboard at hand.

His rivals actually never find a way to understand his strategies, but once or twice somebody manages to beat him. Maybe after having had a short chat with one of Edmund’s sisters, but that he mustn’t know of course.

So through this valid rivalry he does find one or two friends and so often invites them to play against him in front of a freshly made pack of Turkish delights and a hot cup of tea. Who is to say no that ?

But Edmund also takes on fencing. Sure, the literary courses and activities are between his favorites, but he dearly misses fighting with a sword at hand, forever reminiscing the time when he always had a sword at his side and a shield in his hand.

So he takes on fencing. And he is surely grandiose at it. Actually, after not even a week, he even manages to beat the instructor, who baffled, must also somehow explain to his other students how Edmund beat him, even though he himself cannot really formulate a proper explanation.

So, bored, Edmund forces his brother to take on fencing as well.

At first Peter isn’t really delighted of the idea, thinking that the balance of fencing is completely different, making it hard for such a prude knight as him, but somehow Edmund manages to convince him, and boy was it the right decision.

Edmund and Peter right away find a kind of balance of their own, swinging through the classroom light as feathers. A few students even think that they’re dancing instead of fencing. But the Pevensie brothers just have a connection of their own, different from all kinds of stuff those people had seen before.

Ah, and of course another hobby of his. Edmund deeply enjoys reading, often also to other people. He loves reading lavish tales about faraway kingdoms to Lucy, who loves to be lulled into his arms while imagining those faraway kingdoms.

But he also appreciates silence while reading.

All the siblings know where to find their brother when they’re desperately searching for him, and he is overjoyed to be found in the library, feet tucked under his legs, arms with book in hand resting on the mahogany leather armrest of the comfortable chair he was sitting in.

His library back in Narnia was almost as big as a small ballroom, but back in London he has to settle with a single wall full of books.

But that does not stop him from buying more books. The bookshop employees of the little bookstore at the angle of a small street know him very well by now, even offering discounts, knowing he will always be back for other books that might peek his interest the next time he visits the little bookshop.

And so also Edmund has left a piece of his soul back in Narnia, desperately trying to fill the hole with hobbies and interests he also had back there.

But nothing will ever feel like Narnia, except - maybe- returning there…

[weebmcgee]

Persona 4 AU’s/ideas where only one thing has changed. Starts off sweet but then gets unhinged.

~Spoilers Ahead~

- If you max out Kanji’s social link before the Fox, you will see the Fox in different aprons. You can guess who made them.

- If your social link with Nanako is significantly higher than Dojima’s before summer, you can get invited to an event at her school for extra social link points. (I’m sad we couldn’t get more opportunities to spend time with her outside of home).

- Yosuke’s parents got him and Teddie a bunk bed. They fight over who gets the top bunk. Teddie gets the top bunk.

- You get to meet Chie’s dog.

- A smaller character calls out Adachi’s edgelord bullshit, but only once. It’s Nanako and she didn’t even mean to.

- The vegetables in the game grow in real time. Good thing the game spans a whole year.

- If you feed the cat at the Samegawa Flood Plain, more cats will appear the following day. There is no limit.

- The Midnight Channel gets commercials.

- You can get all volumes of Magical Witch Detective. If you collect all books you will unlock dialogue options where people judge you for your taste.

- No one calls their spot at Junes their “special headquarters” except Yosuke. They all make fun of him for it every time he says it.

- If you get far enough into the strength social link, you will have to go to sport tournaments. Sorry guys we can’t save Yukiko, Narukami needs to shoot a 3-pointer.

- You will receive a game over if you decide to eat mystery food X.

- Teddie somehow enrols himself into Yasogami High School. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

- There is a side quest where you help Teddie acquire a forged birth certificate to create more identification. Teddie didn’t know what to put down so he copied Yosuke’s birth certificate.

- At some point during the game, there is a national shortage of animal crackers. Kanji is so devastated that you can’t access his social link for the duration of that month.

- When Teddie gets that medical examination done, he gets taken by doctors for a whole week to be examined as he is considered a medical anomaly. Yosuke will be available for that entire week as he finally doesn’t have to worry about Teddie anymore.

- Once a month, on a random day, someone occupies the table the investigation team holds their meetings at, it pisses the whole team off. If you go into the TV, everyone but Yu Narukami starts off with an enraged penalty for the first five battles.

- For the Devil Social Link, there is a 1% that there will be a viral outbreak in the Hospital. If it occurs, Narukami will be forced to self isolate for a week.

- Yu Narukami steals Ryotaro Dojima’s gun to use in the TV world. Tensions are high at home.

- Alternatively, if you pick the right dialogue options, Naoto Shirogane will give you a gun early in the game. Better than a sword.

- Nanako’s Dungeon ‘Heaven’ is a biblically accurate version of heaven.

- The velvet room is an actual limousine you can enter and everyone can see it. Ryotaro Dojima is probably the most concerned about his nephew entering a mysterious car every afternoon.

- Teddie is an actual bear, remember though that everything still runs the same. He still gets a shadow, he still grows a human body. The team is terrified.

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Propaganda under the cut because it's long:

Alexander I Pavlovich

a. “Maybe not the most handsome or charismatic man in this tournament, but he has ample chaotic neutral energy that both baffles and fascinates contemporaries. In short, if you're into mysterious men, you won't find a sexier enigma than our imperator.”

b. “Look. Is this or is this not the monsterfucking website.”

c. There are lots of monuments dedicated to him. There's one in Moscow in the Alexander Garden right by the Red Square. While nowhere near as grand as the Alexander Column, I think it's still worth showcasing!

The monument is meant to celebrate his victory in the 1812 Russian invasion. He's holding a sword, proudly standing on top of his enemies' weapon.

The sculptors, however, have never seen the man in their life - all the people involved in the making are still alive and well (i think), so that should tell how new it is. The monument was opened for the public just a decade ago in 2014.

d. quote about this bust from the memoirs of Sophie de Choiseul-Gouffier: “No painter was able to properly capture the features of his face and especially his soft expression. Alexander didn’t like to pose for portraits and they were mostly done with some stealth. In this case sculpture have produced a better likeness. The famed Thorvaldsen made a bust of this sovereign worthy of a hand of such a remarkable artist.”

e. His family nickname might have been ‘our angel’ and the medal commemorating his death bears the inscription “Our angel is in heaven”, but did you know that to this day Alexander looks down on Sankt Petersburg as an actual angel, wings, cross, trampled snake and all? Alas, you cannot see it from the ground, the Alexander Column being so very tall, but the statue of the angel on top certainly seems to take after our sexy thrice-angel Emperor.

f. Apotheosis of Alexander! An eminently universal image, perfectly serviceable for his rise to the throne… of Napoleonic Sexyman Tournament.

It really looks like Peter and Catherine are instructing the Electorate. Gentlevoters, surely you wouldn’t dream of disappointing Sasha’s Grandmother and his scantily clothed giant of a Great-great-grandfather?

g. What is sexier than a man in a dress???

Mikhail Miloradovich:

Miloradovich had a short episode as Catherine the Great's favourite at just eighteen. Alas, usually he's not included on the official list except by Barskov. That is because he was one of several concurrent boytoys candidates in 1789, before Zubov won the contest. But I believe that being to Catherine's taste adds to M's sexyman cred.

He never married, but according to his legend, he kept an entire trunk of love letters (from many, many ladies) in his palace, which was discovered after his death.

Miloradovich possessed the kind of cavalier fantasy that made him a hero among soldiers (and one of Suvorov's favourites). Hence these three popular stories:

Once, while on campaign, his soldiers decided to give M their best wishes on his name day. He was very gracious about it and told them with his best roguish smile that in thanks for their wishes he'd give them a present... that present being the nearest pretty-as-a-picture enemy column (French).

On one occasion Joachim Murat came out, sat down and demonstratively drank coffee during an active fire exchange. Miloradovich naturally couldn't be worse and asked for a table to be set for him. Also under the fire, because where else. "He's drinking coffee? I'm eating dinner here!" And it wasn't a singular event: more than once he and Murat conducted a peculiar gallant flirtation on the field. And yes, Miloradovich also had a weakness for very blingy bling.

Alas, M didn't get to carry a ladder (that we know of), but he didn't shy motivating his soldiers in similar ways. It just so happened that his scouting party came to a stop at a steep slope and froze. Miloradovich came forward, got on the ground and slid down the slope on his spine, laughing and generally having (or pretending to have) lots of fun.

[pumpkinroll]

history class ⊹₊ obey me! thirteen x f! reader︱one shot (1.3k) ⊹₊ tags⟢ 18+ only, dubcon, public sex & some exhibitionism, fingering/oral on reader, use of “my girl” & “good girl”, some dirty talk, established relationship, pervy levi (just a cameo)

“Eh? Who are you!?”

You couldn't remember the last time Thirteen actually showed up to class willingly.

She rolled her eyes and let out a dramatic sigh, “I'm allowed to be here y'know!” 

The reaper plopped into the seat next to you and opened her textbook, huffing, “I can come and go as I please, I just felt like coming today! Nothing wrong with that. Hmph.”

You cocked an eyebrow, wondering what she was really up to, before opening your own textbook to today's history lesson. You patiently waited for the professor to start as he fumbled around up front trying to get the projector started.

“Just saying, don't try to copy me if we have a pop quiz, you're on your own.” You shook your head and turned your attention back to the professor, who was already drawling into the lesson.

He never failed to make minutes seem like hours. 

You turned your head slightly to glance at the beautiful reaper, wondering how she was holding up.

To no one's surprise, she was already fast asleep on her textbook, snoozing away without any care in the world. You love her — but even you fail to see why she bothered to come today.

At least the two of you were furthest in the back, the professor paying no mind to anything other than what was on the board.

“Mmm…mmmff…just a little…more…” Thirteen murmured. You glanced to see some drool on the corner of her mouth and a not-so-angelic look on her face. To be fair, that's rarely a thing to begin with.

Leave it to Thirteen to have a wet dream during class.

You peeked around hoping no one heard her and luckily all seemed well. Levi who was in front of you was thankfully engrossed in his game.

Gently you shook Thirteen’s shoulder and woke her up, looking none too pleased.

“Hey, c'mon! I was having the BEST dream, what the hell!” she whisper-shouted, shuffling around in her seat, her thighs rubbing together. “You were so close — !”

“Excuse me!?”

Thirteen crossed her arms and shot you a pouty look, “It's been a while since we fucked, don't tell me you haven't had any urges lately!?”

“Thirteen!”

Mortified you looked around once more, hoping no one heard her, noticing Levi ever so briefly stopped playing his game before continuing. He was probably just changing to a different game; at least that's what you told yourself to feel better.

“Ugh, Thirteen, we can talk about this later!”

“No I want to talk about this now. I've barely seen you lately, I miss you, you're always so busy...” A perfectly manicured hand rubbed your thigh with a feather-like touch. Teasing. Just the way you love it — it then clicked and you caught on to what she was up to.

You bit your bottom lip before taking a quick shaky breath. 

“That's not f-fair…” your voice cracked, “Let's just talk after classes later and —” 

Her hand moved higher up your thigh, beneath your uniform skirt. “Can you really wait until later? Can you resist this?” 

Lime green eyes scanned the room quickly and in a flash she pulled her top down, revealing big soft bouncy breasts and perky pink nipples to match.

Fuck.

She smirked and shook her breasts, “Your favorite yeah? — Ugh, Levi I'll cut off your balls with a rusty sword! Turn around!” Thirteen covered up quickly before anyone else noticed, grumbling about the otaku in front of her before turning her attention back to you.

“Anyway…” her hand resumed rubbing light sensual circles upon your upper thigh, getting dangerously close to the aching spot between your legs. “I just want a small taste. Just stay quiet and enjoy it alright?” 

You let out a small sigh and nodded, feeling crazy for going along with it but feeling a thrill from it at the same time. Thirteen always did have that intoxicating power over you. She, ironically, always made you feel so alive.

“That's my girl~ ♡” she murmured, her finger pressing softly against your clothed clit, making you squirm in your seat.

You tried to keep your attention on the professor, hoping to not rouse suspicion to the back. You thanked Diavolo's decision for the enclosed desks at the academy also wondering how many others have used this to their advantage .

Thirteen tried to follow your lead, resting her cheek on her hand as the other one beneath the desk continued rubbing up and down along your slit, relishing the sweet damp spot that's formed.

She slowly added more pressure against your cunt, feeling the pool of stickiness seep through the thin fabric, covering her fingers. A small giggle escaped her lips before finally pulling your drenched panties aside, rubbing her thumb against your naked swollen clit.

A barely audible moan escaped, you felt your face burn as you tried to keep your focus on the lesson.

Why did you ever agree to this!?

Your legs betrayed you and opened further on their own, letting her delicate fingers toy around your sopping wet cunt, another small moan slipped between your lips.

This is way too dangerous.

Reaching down, you reluctantly pulled her soaked fingers that were pumping into you, away from your cunt.

“W-we should s-stop…s'too good—” you feebly spoke.

“What? No way…” Thirteen glanced towards you and waved her wet fingers before sucking your essence off them, “Yummy as always. Definitely not enough for me nor you.”

“But — ”

Unfortunately, the reaper swiftly and quietly slipped beneath the desk, propping herself between your slick covered thighs. Her hot breath tickled your exposed swollen clit.

Oh no. 

Oh fuck. 

There was no getting out of this. Not unless you wanted to get caught by everyone. 

Panicking, you peeked around before glancing back down at the lewd sight between your legs.

“Such a good girl, look at this pretty wet pussy,” she licked her plum stained lips, holding eye contact with you as her warm slippery tongue slipped between your folds. “Mmm...'could eat you all fucking day.”

You bit your lip as hard as you could, daring to not let a single sound out no matter how much you wanted to.

It had been ages since she went down on you and you never imagined this would be how she would do it, never imagined how fucking good it would feel. So fucking naughty and dirty but so sinfully good.

At this point, you had no idea what the lesson was about, you could only focus on the way Thirteen deliciously wrapped her lips around your sensitive clit, sucking and licking while her fingers fucked you to a new height of pleasure. 

“Your cunt is so delicious, ” she mumbled, flattening her tongue and lapping along your slit.

You closed your eyes and panted as quietly as you could, unable to stay silent anymore, your mouth slightly agape.

Opening your eyes again, you briefly saw Levi gawk in your direction — undoubtedly knowing what you two were up to. You didn't care anymore, you knew the pervy demon would keep quiet.

You stared at each other for a few seconds as you continued lewdly panting before biting your hand, closing your eyes, and putting your head down on the desk. Fuck you were so so close. 

You rocked onto Thirteens tongue, aching for release. 

“Mmm,”

Grabbing the back of her head you continued rubbing your clit against her tongue before finally reaching your peak, squirting into her mouth as a small groan escaped you. 

You continued panting as your eyes fluttered open, riding out your high. Luckily there was still no one aware of what was going on in the back of the room.

Well, except Levi, who you could see was jacking off beneath his desk and very shortly let out a satisfied grunt. Figures.

Once again, Thirteen swiftly made it back into her chair, wiping her mouth as she grinned and looked to you.

“See, that was great right? Let me know if you want to go again.” She teased, giving a flirty wink. 

You let out a satisfied sigh and fixed yourself up before cleaning your chair just as the bell rang for the next class.

“You know damn well I do. We're going back to my room.”

Thirteen squealed and grabbed your hand as the two of you rushed out the academy to get back to the house of lamentation.

divider by sister-lucifer