#blade fit for a champion

[tloging]

A Blade Fit For A Champion Wotlk Classic

Are you ready to take on the challenges of Wotlk Classic like a true champion? Then you need a blade that can keep up with your skills and ambition. A great weapon is more than just an accessory in this game – it’s an extension of yourself, a symbol of power and determination. In this blog post, we’ll explore some of the best options for blades in Wotlk Classic, from mighty two-handed swords to…

[the-unconquered-queen]

The cast of Blades of Light and Shadow and their Perfect Match types

Ever since I did my Blades/Elementalists attunement crossover to mark the anniversary of the Blades series, I’ve known I wanted to do something like this to mark the wide release of book three, and I love me some Perfect Match and the types system, so what better way than by incorporating that into a piece?

So the match types you see here are based on what we’ve seen of these characters up to book two, so any character evolution they may undergo in book three is not accounted for. You might also notice that, when deciding each character’s type, I went off of the core four traits instead of the match name or description, unless I needed a tiebreaker.

Finally, MC’s type is pretty subjective, as I’m sure everyone has a different idea of what their MCs are like, so for the sake of this edit set, Raine’s type is based on which traits she displays most in canon.

So, are you swiping right?

[acourtofquestions]

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

Is the MOST Celaena Sardothien song I have EVER heard!

[dtan0914]

So I can confirm that Despy took Alex Shelley’s jersey back to Japan and they did do this trade for real :)

[yandereunsolved]

⚔ Yandere Maximus Decimus Meridius ⚔

cw(s): non-consenual kissing/touching, physical abuse (fighting and being restrained), & manipulation

Death was a promise to any who entered the arena. It is the most sacred form of entertainment. A way for bloodthirsty peasants and aristocrats alike to satiate that primal hunger. It is a calling to those who participate—kill or be killed; no god will save you now. Your sword is your only savior.

Like a siren, it lured you. Long forgotten was the past you had. Slave, free, rich, poor. None were equals in the arena, but for a moment, nothing mattered but your skill with a blade and the talent to entertain. More addictive than opium it is. The cheers of the crowd flowed through your blood and made you nearly invincible. Nearly.

The newcomer. The Spartan.

He invaded your province like the plague. No longer were you the people's chosen, but the one to take a spear into their heart. He won against every adversary they threw at him, until there was none left but you, the champion.

"I hear of you going to Rome next," you offhandedly comment towards the Spaniard, awaiting the time for your mutually ensured demise.

"I hear of your jealousy," he responds. You cannot criticize his tone, for you don't know what to think of it. Snark or Understanding?

"I am a gladiator. My heart belongs in the ring, as does my 'jealousy'."

Your fists curl inward after you speak. You don't move against him. You won't. No. You won't. You aren't stupid enough to tire yourself before your arena time.

"Then I will own both by the end of our fight."

A fist to his face. Your hand will surely bruise. He doesn't strike back. Instead he smirks and places a kiss upon the hand that harmed him.

You should have taken that as the warning it was.

Blood to sand.

Body to body.

Lips to lips.

You aren't the heart to be speared, but the heart protected by the crowd's chosen.

"What the hell, Spaniard," you breathily whisper, re-entering the cell area.

"I told you I would own both." There's an amusement in him that you haven't heard before. It's a blood curdling satisfaction. "And it's Maximus—not Spaniard."

You have half a mind to punch him again, despite being covered in a mixture of bloods and injuries.

"Declaring your 'love' for me in front of thousands? We hardly know each other!" Exasperated you are. Every fiber in your being telling you that you are still in danger, caged in four walls with not a human but a beast: lion.

"That's where you're wrong."

"What?"

"We've met before. Many times."

"Lying doesn't fit you, Spaniard," you spit out like a slur.

The wind is forced out of your already worn lungs. Scarred hands settle around your neck with practiced ease, almost lovingly, if not for the fact you were shoved against imprisoning bars moments prior. Pink lips chapped by the harsh sun meet yours for more moments of stolen intimacy. His lips quickly trail down your neck like trickling blood. His brawny, albeit slightly malnourished, body pinning you feels like loss, like a new sentence the arena has thrust upon you.

"I was once an... an honorable man," he groans out, rutting against you, "—a husband, a father. I had love in my heart, but it was replaced with revenge by a two-faced coward."

He breaks away from your mouth but keeps you in-between him and the bars digging into you. He admires you as you pant, a bruised pair of lips and neck added to your list of injuries. Surely other people must be witness to this, you think. Hear the happening. If they are or can, they don't care enough to stop him... defend you.

"Now all I have is you." He gingerly connects his forehead to yours, noses just barely touching. Your breaths intermingle. "I pity you, for the gods intertwined us. The heavens be damned if I let someone else I care for slip through my fingers."

[stylesispunk]

Blades of Fate

marcus Acacius x f!reader / lucius x f!reader

Summary: Lucius and you are celebrated champions of the arena, each with their own unique force. Marcus Acacius returning from a victorious campaign, attends a grand gladiatorial event where he witnesses your bravery firsthand and something about you captivates him.

w.c: 4,4k

warnings: messy writing, angst, mentions of blood, mentions of violence, and mentions of arranged marriage, tension

a/n: okay, I had two days off from work and I still have post london depression, but I finally wrote something and I had no idea what the plot of this was or is, but I was dying for writing something about this two characters and I out them both here. Okay I have no idea what plot gladiator II will follow so this is the only thing that came to my mind. Perhaps some events or details of the story will not fit with the history events of the Roman empire and gladiators, but still this is just for fun. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. I hope you like it and have fun reading 💌.

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

The sun hung high in the Roman sky, casting golden rays over the Colosseum's colossal structure. The massive stone amphitheater, a testament to Roman engineering and grandeur, was alive with the roar of the crowd. Citizens from all walks of life, from the lowly plebeians to the esteemed senators, filled the seats, their cheers and shouts blending into a symphony of anticipation.

The blood of past battles stained the sand in the heart of the arena, a silent witness to the countless lives lost for entertainment. Today, the atmosphere was electric with excitement, for the arena was set to witness a spectacle unlike any other. The gates on either end of the battleground creaked open, and out stepped two of Rome's most revered gladiators.

Lucius, tall and muscular, with a presence that commanded respect, raised his sword to the cheering masses. His sharp and focused eyes scanned the crowd before settling on his partner. You, a gladiatrix of unparalleled skill, moved with a grace that belied the brutality of your fate, matching the rage of your lover. Your lithe form was clad in leather armor, and your hair was braided back to reveal a face marked by determination and a fierce will to survive.

Seeing a woman fight wasn’t something common, but you had won your respect and reputation, and besides Lucius, you had become nothing but stronger, a team, as the two champions you were destined to be.

A hush fell over the Colosseum. The only sound was the distant call of a hawk, circling high above, as if it too were a spectator. Then, with a sudden crash, the gates on the opposite end burst open, and their opponents emerged—a team of seasoned warriors, each one a formidable foe.

The only sound was the distant call of a hawk, circling high above, as if it too were a spectator. Then, with a sudden crash, the gates on the opposite end burst open, and their opponents emerged—a team of seasoned warriors, each one a formidable foe, determined to bring down the beloved gladiators.

The battle began with a clash of steel and a flurry of movement. Lucius and you fought with seamless coordination; your movements synchronized as if you were one entity. Lucius's strength and brute force were complemented perfectly by your agility and precision. The two of you moved through your opponents like a tempest, leaving a trail of fallen adversaries in your wake.

High above, in the VIP stands, General Marcus Acacius watched intently. His stern face, weathered by years of warfare and command, betrayed no emotion. Known for his ruthless efficiency and strategic brilliance, Marcus had seen countless battles, but there was something about these two gladiators that intrigued him. Your skill was undeniable, but it was your unspoken bond, your mutual trust and respect, that caught his attention.

As the last of your opponent’s fell, the crowd erupted in deafening applause. Lucius and you stood victorious, your chests heaving from exertion, but your eyes were sharp and alert. You raised your weapons in salute to the crowd and then, as one, turned your gaze towards Marcus.

From his seat, Marcus leaned forward slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Arrange for a private meeting," he instructed his aide, his voice carrying the weight of command. "I want to see if their skills match their reputation."

The aide nodded and hurried off, while Marcus's gaze remained fixed on the two of you. There was something about you both—a spark that he couldn't quite place. He intended to find out what it was and how it could serve his own purposes.

As you and Lucius exited the arena, you exchanged a smile. Another victory, another day of survival in a world you didn’t choose but were destined to be part of. You reached out, gently touching his arm. “We are a team,” you said, trying to convince yourself that the love you had for him was bigger than the exhaustion you felt.

Lucius looked down at your hand on his arm, then back at you. “Yes, Dulcissima,” he said softly. He closed his eyes; there was a sort of pain evident on his face. “But I want us to be free from all of this," he admitted.

He opened his eyes, searching for yours once more. The anger had faded, replaced by a deep sorrow. "Dulcissima,” the nickname, slipped from his lips once again. “I want us to get married, and I want to make you happy.”

You stared at him in disbelief, the weight of his words sinking in. “Lucius,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotions.

Lucius took your hand in his; his grip was firm yet tender. "I’ve been thinking about this for a long time," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every time we step into that arena, I fear it might be our last. I don’t want to lose you, not without having truly lived with you."

Your heart ached at his words. You had always known the dangers of your life as a gladiatrix, but hearing Lucius speak so openly about his fears brought a new depth to your own anxieties. "I want that too, Lucius," you replied, your voice trembling with emotion. "But how can we ever be free?"

Lucius's eyes darkened with determination. "We’ll find a way. There has to be more to life than this constant struggle. We’ll fight for our freedom together."

Before you could respond, a group of soldiers approached, their stern faces in stark contrast to the celebration that surrounded you. The leader, a tall centurion with a scar running down his cheek, addressed you both. "General Marcus Acacius has requested your presence for a private meeting. Follow us."

You and Lucius exchanged a quick glance, both sensing the gravity of the situation. With a nod, you followed the soldiers through the winding corridors of the Colosseum, your minds racing with thoughts of what the general might want.

The soldiers led you to a grand chamber within the Colosseum, its walls adorned with intricate tapestries and bronze statues of Rome’s greatest heroes. General Marcus Acacius stood near a large table, studying a map spread out before him. As you entered, he looked up, his eyes locking onto yours with keen intensity.

"Welcome," Marcus said, his voice smooth and commanding. "I wanted to speak with you both personally. Your performance in the arena today was nothing short of extraordinary."

"Thank you, General," Lucius replied, his tone respectful but guarded.

Marcus nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips. "And honor Rome you have. But I sense that there’s more to your partnership than just skill and survival. There’s a deeper connection, one that could be of great use."

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words. "What do you mean, General?" you asked cautiously.

Marcus leaned forward, his eyes piercing. "I’m offering you an opportunity—a chance to fight for something greater than yourselves. To serve Rome in a way that could ultimately lead to your freedom."

Lucius’s grip on your hand tightened slightly. "We’re listening," he said, his voice steady.

Marcus gestured to the map on the table. "Rome is expanding, but with that expansion comes the need for strong, capable leaders. I believe the two of you could be valuable assets in securing our borders and maintaining order. Prove yourselves in the upcoming challenge, and I’ll ensure that your skills are recognized. There could be a future for you beyond the arena, one where you have a say in your own destiny." He paused. "However," he continued, a glint of challenge in his eyes, "I propose a new test of their mettle. A special event, where our gladiatrix will face my finest soldiers in a mock battle."

A murmur of excitement rippled through the hall. You felt a surge of determination at the general's words. This was more than a mere challenge; it was an opportunity to prove yourself further in the eyes of Rome and its most powerful figures.

You stepped forward, your voice clear and resolute. "I accept your challenge, General. I will show you and all of Rome what a true gladiator is capable of."

Marcus nodded, a satisfied smile on his lips. "Very well. The event will be held in two days' time. May the gods favor the brave."

Lucius, standing beside you, gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. "We’ve faced worse," he whispered. "You’ll show them all."

Your heart raced at the prospect. Could this be the chance you and Lucius have been longing for? Is there a way to escape the bloodshed and find a life together, free from the chains of the Colosseum?

"We’ll do it," you said firmly, meeting Marcus’s gaze with unwavering resolve. "We’ll prove ourselves."

Marcus’s smile widened; satisfaction was evident in his eyes. "Good. The challenge will take place in two days. Prepare yourselves, and may the gods be with you."

As the banquet continued, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this challenge was more than just a test of skill. It was a pivotal moment, one that could alter the course of your life and your bond with Lucius. And in the shadows, the ever-watchful eyes of Marcus Acacius followed your every move, already plotting the next step in his intricate game.

The next two days were a blur of intense preparation. You and Lucius trained tirelessly, refining your techniques and strategizing for the upcoming mock battle. The anticipation in the air was palpable, both among the gladiators and the spectators who eagerly awaited the spectacle.

On the morning of the event, the Colosseum was packed with spectators, their cheers echoing through the grand structure. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the excitement of the unknown. This was no ordinary battle; it was a test that would determine your fate and perhaps even reshape your destiny.

Marcus stood on a platform overlooking the arena, his presence commanding respect. He raised his hand, signaling for silence. "Today, we witness a display of courage, skill, and determination," he announced, his voice carrying across the Colosseum. "Our gladiatrix will face my finest soldiers in a test of strength and strategy. Let the battle begin!"

The gates creaked open, and you stepped into the arena, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and adrenaline. Across from you stood Marcus’s elite soldiers, their expressions hard and focused. You glanced at Lucius, who stood at the edge of the arena, his eyes locked onto yours with unwavering support.

"Together," you whispered to yourself, drawing strength from the bond you shared with Lucius.

The clash of steel rang out as the battle commenced, a whirlwind of movement and noise. You moved with a grace and ferocity that left your opponents reeling; your every strike was precise and powerful. Despite the odds, you fought with everything you had, driven by the desire for freedom and a future with Lucius.

As the battle raged on, you felt a surge of energy, pushing yourself beyond your limits. You danced around your opponents, using your agility and speed to outmaneuver them. The crowd's cheers grew louder with each successful strike, their excitement fueling your resolve.

Finally, as the last soldier fell, a hush descended over the arena. You stood victorious, your chest heaving, your body bruised and battered but unbroken. The crowd erupted in applause; their cheers were a testament to your triumph.

Marcus descended from the platform, his eyes filled with admiration and something else—something deeper. "You have proven yourself today," he said, his voice carrying a note of respect. "Your skills and determination are unmatched. You are a true warrior."

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. "Thank you, General," you replied, your voice steady despite the exhaustion.

Lucius rushed to your side, his eyes filled with pride and relief. "You did it," he whispered, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I knew you would."

As you stood there, basking in the glow of victory, Marcus stepped closer, his gaze intense. "There is more to this than just a test of skill," he said quietly. "I see potential in you—a potential that could change the course of our future."

You looked at him, curiosity and apprehension swirling within you. "What do you mean?"

Marcus smiled a hint of mystery in his eyes. "All in due time. For now, rest and recover. We will speak again soon."

In the days that followed, you and Lucius were treated with newfound respect and admiration. The other gladiators looked up to you, and the soldiers who had once seen you as mere entertainment now saw you as formidable warriors. Yet, despite the praise and the promise of a brighter future, a sense of unease lingered in the air.

One evening, as you were returning to your quarters after another grueling day of training, a sudden commotion caught your attention. The sound of clashing steel and muffled shouts echoed through the corridors. You hurried towards the source of the disturbance, your heart pounding with a sense of impending danger.

As you rounded a corner, you were met with a chilling sight. Lucius was engaged in a fierce battle with a group of unknown assailants. His movements were swift and deadly, but he was outnumbered. Without a second thought, you drew your weapon and rushed to his aid, your determination burning brighter than ever.

Despite your best efforts, the sheer number of attackers overwhelmed you. You fought valiantly, but the odds were stacked against you. A sharp pain exploded in your side as one of the assailants landed a brutal blow, and you fell to your knees, your vision blurring.

Lucius's voice echoed in your ears, filled with desperation. "No! Leave her alone!" But his cries were in vain. The attackers overpowered him, and as darkness closed in, you felt yourself being dragged away.

When you awoke, you found yourself in a dimly lit cell, your hands bound with a rough rope. The cold stone walls pressed in around you, and the air was thick with the scent of dampness and decay. You struggled against your restraints, but they held firm.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing louder with each passing second. The door to your cell creaked open, and Marcus stepped inside, his expression unreadable.

"You’re awake," he said quietly, his voice carrying a note of regret.

"Why?" you demanded, your voice hoarse. "Why did you do this?"

Marcus sighed, his eyes dark with emotion. "It wasn’t supposed to be like this," he said, stepping closer. "But there are forces at play here that even I cannot control. I had to act quickly to protect you."

"Protect me?" You spat, your anger flaring. "By taking me hostage?"

He knelt beside you, his gaze earnest. "Yes," he said softly. "There are those who see you as a threat and who would stop at nothing to eliminate you. I couldn’t let that happen. This was the only way to keep you safe."

You stared at him, your mind racing. "And what about Lucius? What have you done to him?"

Marcus’s expression tightened. "He’s unharmed for now. But there are conditions. You must stay here, cooperate with me, and in return, he will be spared."

Your heart ached with the weight of his words. The future you had envisioned with Lucius seemed to slip further away with each passing moment. "What do you want from me?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"I want you to trust me," Marcus said, his tone sincere. "I know it's a lot to ask, but I need you to believe that I’m doing this for the greater good. Together, we can change the course of history."

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of deceit. Instead, you found only a deep, unyielding resolve. Despite your anger and fear, a part of you wanted to believe him and trust that he had your best interests at heart.

"I’ll cooperate," you said finally, your voice steady. "But if anything happens to Lucius, I swear I will make you pay."

Marcus nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his features. "You have my word," he said. "Lucius will be safe.

The next evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the cell, Marcus arrived with a tray of food. He set it down on a small table and took a seat across from you. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice gentle.

You shrugged, picking at the food. "As well as one can feel in captivity," you replied, a hint of bitterness in your tone.

Marcus sighed. "I understand your frustration," he said. "But believe me, this is the only way to ensure your safety."

You looked up at him, your eyes searching for his. "And what about Lucius? How long do you intend to keep us apart?"

"Until it’s safe," he answered, his gaze unwavering. "There are those who would see you both dead. I need to neutralize that threat before I can reunite you."

You frowned, the weight of his words sinking in. "And how do I know I can trust you?"

“Because I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said, leaning forward towards you, his expression earnest. "I have given you my word. I will do everything in my power to protect you.”

“And Lucius,” you said.

“I don’t care about Lucius.” He confessed, “But if you ask me to protect him, I will.”

You recoiled slightly at Marcus's confession, his words echoing in your mind. "You don’t care about Lucius?" You repeated it, disbelief coloring your tone.

Marcus hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. "Not in the same way I care about you," he admitted quietly. "But I understand how important he is to you. If protecting him means protecting you, then I will do it."

You took a deep breath, trying to process the storm of emotions swirling within you. Marcus’s honesty was unexpected, and it stirred something in you, something you could decipher.

"I appreciate your honesty," you said finally, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your heart. "But my loyalty lies with Lucius. He’s... he’s a part of me."

Marcus nodded slowly, his expression somber. "I understand," he said softly.

You looked your gaze with his; an electric feeling passed through the both of you, but you ignored it, not wanting to commit treason towards Lucius.

“I don’t like this life, you know?” Marcus began, his voice carrying the weight of the weariness of years and sincerity. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze searching yours as if seeking understanding.

You nodded slowly, feeling a surge of empathy for the man before you, the man who seemed to be different from his strong exterior. "I can imagine," you replied softly. "The burden of command, the weight of decisions that affect so many lives..."

Marcus sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly. "It’s not just that," he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I’ve seen too much bloodshed, too much senseless violence. In these gladiatorial games, they glorify death while the people cheer on."

His words resonated deeply with you, stirring up memories of battles fought and lives lost in the name of entertainment. "I never wanted to be a fighter," you confessed quietly. "I wanted... I wanted a life of peace, of freedom."

Marcus’s gaze softened, a flicker of understanding passing between you. "Yet here we are,” he murmured. “Bound by duty, by the expectations of others.”

You nodded, the weight of shared experience forging a fragile bond between you.

"I’ve spent my life in service to Rome, sacrificing countless lives for its glory. But lately, I find myself questioning the cost."

You nodded slowly, sensing the weight of his words. "I understand," you said quietly. "I’ve felt that way too, at times. I never wanted to be what I am now—to live and die by the sword. But I grew up with Lucius, and we shared the same resentment and anger at the hand life dealt me."

Marcus’s gaze softened, a flicker of understanding passing between you. "We’re more alike than you realize," he murmured. ”

"I never imagined my life would turn out like this," you admitted, a pang of vulnerability in your voice. "But every battle, every victory—it’s shaped who I am."

Marcus reached across the table, his hand resting gently on yours. "You’re stronger than you know," he said earnestly. "And you deserve more than the chains of the Colosseum."

You met his gaze, seeing a depth of compassion and empathy that surprised you. "What about that?" you asked softly. "What do I deserve?"

“To be caressed and protected,” he replied, not taking his eyes from yours.

His words stirred something deep within you—a yearning for tenderness and safety amidst the chaos of your existence. "And you?" you pressed gently, your heart racing with uncertainty and anticipation.

Marcus’s expression softened further, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features. "To find redemption," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "To make amends for the lives I’ve sacrificed.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of his confession settling between you. "We both seek something more," you said softly, reaching to cover his hand with yours. "Perhaps we can find it."

The touch of your hands and the electricity were enough to make you guilty of sin.

"One of my men has uncovered a plot against you," Marcus confessed while holding your hand. "There are those who believe you and Lucius pose a threat to the stability of Rome. They’re planning an attack."

You drew in a sharp breath, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. "Who would want to harm us?" you asked, your voice tinged with concern and disbelief.

Marcus shook his head grimly. "Enemies within the Senate, rivals who see you as a symbol of defiance," he explained. "They fear the influence you hold over the people, over the rebels.”

You glanced at him, a mixture of fear and gratitude swirling within you. "What do I do?" you asked quietly, realizing the gravity of the situation.

Marcus’s gaze hardened, a flicker of determination crossing his features.

"What do you propose?" you asked, a sense of foreboding creeping over you.

Marcus took a deep breath, meeting your gaze with resolve. "An arranged marriage," he said quietly. "Between you and me."

You stared at him, stunned. "What?”

"Think about it," Marcus said, shifting closer. "As my wife, you would have the protection of my name and my position. It would make it much harder for our enemies to harm you. And it would give us the legitimacy and power we need to navigate the political landscape of Rome."

"But what about Lucius?" you demanded, your heart aching at the thought of betraying him.

"I would ensure his safety," Marcus promised. "He would be free, and you could see him. But we must present a united front to the world. This is the only way."

You turned away, struggling with your emotions. The thought of marrying Marcus, despite your growing bond, felt like a betrayal to Lucius. Yet, the logic of Marcus’s proposal was undeniable.

"Please, think about it," Marcus said softly, his voice filled with sincerity.

You spent the night wrestling with conflicting emotions, torn between loyalty to Lucius and the pragmatism of Marcus's proposal. As dawn broke, you found yourself standing before Marcus once more, a decision forming in your mind.

"I've thought about it," you began slowly, meeting Marcus's intense gaze with determination. "I... I agree."

Marcus's expression softened with relief, yet he remained composed. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice laced with concern for your well-being.

You nodded, steeling yourself against the ache in your heart. "Yes. It's the best way to protect both of us, and Lucius too. We need to do this."

A weight seemed to lift from Marcus's shoulders, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose. "Thank you," he murmured, stepping closer to take your hands in his. "You won't regret this. I'll make sure to be the best husband.”

As Marcus took your hands in his, a sense of finality settled over you. The decision was made, driven by a combination of necessity and the undeniable connection you felt with him. Despite the pang of guilt for Lucius, you knew this was a path you had chosen for the safety and future stability it promised.

"I need you to know that my heart belongs to Lucius," you replied softly, meeting Marcus's earnest gaze. "But I’ll believe you’ll prove me right."

A faint smile touched Marcus's lips; relief and determination shone in his eyes. "We'll face this together," he said, his voice steady with conviction. "I'll ensure that you're protected and that we navigate these turbulent times with strength and unity."

Marcus nodded solemnly, his gaze unwavering as he listened to your heartfelt confession. "I understand," he replied softly, his voice tinged with both acceptance and a hint of sadness. "I will do everything in my power to earn your trust and respect."

You felt a surge of gratitude towards Marcus, appreciating his understanding despite the complex emotions involved. "Thank you," you murmured, squeezing his hands gently. "For being so understanding."

A sense of mutual respect and determination filled the space between you, a silent agreement to face the challenges ahead. Marcus's commitment to protect you and navigate the political intricacies of Rome gave you a measure of reassurance in the midst of uncertainty.

"We'll announce our intentions and make preparations," Marcus continued, his voice regaining its usual resolve. "Our marriage will be more than just a shield; it will be a symbol of unity and strength."

As you nodded in agreement, a sense of resolve settled within you. Despite your heart belonging to Lucius, you knew that this alliance with Marcus was necessary.

When Marcus left your side, you looked up at the sky, promising heaven and God that Lucius would be your only love, just as the weight of your decision settled in your chest—a blend of duty and sacrifice for a greater cause—for your freedom. Despite the practicality of your alliance with Marcus, your heart still yearned for Lucius, a truth you held onto in the quiet moments.

Unbeknownst to you, Marcus observed you from a distance, his gaze fixed on you with a newfound sense of purpose. As he watched you under the vast Roman sky, a resolve hardened within him. He had made a commitment to protect you, but now he harbored a deeper ambition—to win your heart.

[otterdrawz]

Modern Au Stex Pt. 1

HELLO, here is a post describing the headcanons/information I have so far for my modern au version of STEX 2024.

If anyone is interested keeping up with the information and art I make for it, you can find it under #otters modern au stex, which will be tagged on all related posts!

• Starlight express is the name of the diner Momma owns, which is also where the coaches work as servers.

- servers use roller skates ! Which goes into the next point

• Momma also owns a skate shop called “Freight Yard” which sells roller skates, roller blades, and skateboards. This is (shockingly) where the freights work ! The servers in the diner are semi-promoting the skate shop by serving with roller skates

• Electra runs a semi-fancy LGBTQ+ bar and club called “Magnetism,” which is also where the components work.

• Greaseball runs a biker gang, ofc called “Rolling Stock.” I wouldn’t say it’s a legitimate gang, just a social group that probably gets into a bit of trouble every once in a while. The champion engines are also in this gang

• Greaseball works at a tattoo parlor and also works as a bouncer at Electra's club

• Rusty used to work at Momma’s diner and likely the Freight yard too, but went off to study at a local college. Probably to study engineering cuz I feel that fits!! Since it’s local he still stops by the diner and skate shop to chat with everyone cuz everyone’s friends 😌 probably studies in the diner too

- Rusty likely isn’t the only one in school, some have already graduated or are taking classes whilst working, or aren’t in school at all • • • See my additional post of Greaseball and Dinahs refs

There will be more to come as I come up with more things for this! Pls do not use my ideas/headcanons for your own au unless asked. You are more than welcome to engage in my au but pls don't steal it and credit me if u do make art/writing/posts, etc <//3

[marwyn]

When she slid Oathkeeper from the ornate scabbard, Brienne’s breath caught in her throat. Black and red the ripples ran, deep within the steel. Valyrian steel, spell-forged. It was a sword fit for a hero. When she was small, her nurse had filled her ears with tales of valor, regaling her with the noble exploits of Ser Galladon of Morne, Florian the Fool, Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, and other champions. Each man bore a famous sword, and surely Oathkeeper belonged in their company, even if she herself did not. “You’ll be defending Ned Stark’s daughter with Ned Stark’s own steel,” Jaime had promised. (AFFC, Brienne I)

[George R. R. Martin] creates Valyrian steel and describes it so clearly that it resembles Damascene steel. […] The epithet derived from the name of Damascus, the capital city of Syria, and this kind of steel was used to manufacture swords in the Near East from antiquity through the early modern era. The swords had distinctive patterns of mottling reminiscent of flowing water. Their blades were legendary: tough, resistant to shattering, and capable of being honed to a razor-sharp edge. In the case of Eddard Stark’s sword Ice, however, Martin ensures that we know it was created using magic along with smithwork. Ice is clearly a sword of power, wielded by heroes. It fits a mythical concept of a sword for heroes. Heroes have special abilities; no ordinary warrior is capable of fighting with such a sword. The medieval equivalent would be a sword like Roland’s Durendal in the French epic La Chanson de Roland. Durendal is imbued with a very medieval power: it contains a holy relic. Thus Game of Thrones relates more strongly than usual to a past recognizable by historians, alluding both to the swords of crusaders and to those of medieval legendary figures. Martin is not in fact giving us either history or a reinvented Middle Ages; he is using aspects of medieval legend to create pageantry and drama. Ice is magical, like King Arthur’s Excalibur. (Gillian Polack, “Setting up Westeros: The Medievalesque World of Game of Thrones,” in Game of Thrones versus History: Written in Blood)

“Ser Galladon was a champion of such valor that the Maiden herself lost her heart to him. She gave him an enchanted sword as a token of her love. The Just Maid, it was called. No common sword could check her, nor any shield withstand her kiss. Ser Galladon bore the Just Maid proudly, but only thrice did he unsheathe her. He would not use the Maid against a mortal man, for she was so potent as to make any fight unfair.” (AFFC, Brienne IV)

[atreyucannamos]

We had a major live-fire exercise today, and I'm happy to say that the Lunar Falcons won - though our noble opposition made us work for every second of it.

It took every bit of my skill with Assembler to keep Primors Valentine and Vivian Reis in check, Lady Kiriona charged fearlessly into battle and gave as good as she got, Principissa Elsa was backing up her team with every tool at her disposal, Kay was holding her nerve and protecting the objective, and that napalm-spewing monster Max was piloting made life hell for us in a very literal sense. Most of all, Marquess Fontague Montague is every bit the pankrati champion - even weaponless, with his mech's blade shorn from its hands, he fought harder than most people could with a full suite of BUC ordnance.

Meanwhile, the Lunar Falcons had the assistance of Captain Hedros Nadeer (if you've seen a poster for the BUC recently, you've seen him), and let me tell you, I've never felt more glad that I pushed so hard for our team to select him as our sixth. The man is a menace with a rifle, and he was keeping the enemy team's heads down the entire fight.

The Lunar Falcons are working much better as a team now. We strategised before the engagement itself - we split off into loose groups of two, with me and Delamar taking the northern quadrant, Caelan and Persephone taking the south, with Hedros and Tuera taking up the east. This meant we wouldn't have a repeat of the incident during the duel with Praya where Persephone got singled out and taken to pieces. In fact, we were able to turn the tables and do that to one of theirs.

Persephone's new mech seems to fit her a lot better - she's raining precision ordnance on enemies from afar. I'm a bit more comfortable with Assembler, although it still feels like it's fighting me sometimes. Delamar and Calean are handling their mechs with expert precision, and we've finally got a handle on what Tuera's mech does.

I told the Marquess after the fight that "winning is a novel experience for me." Well, I want to keep winning. Merely graduating from the KCC isn't enough for me. I have to graduate with honours. Survival isn't enough - I want to triumph.

[silverskye13]

So glad to find another derivakat fan! If I may, Take the Lead feels like such a Helsknight and Tanguish song. It fits no matter how you mess with it.

You have any others for rns characters?

Take the Lead is an awesome pick for Helsknight and Tanguish! Though I definitely lean more on Tanguish for that one for,,, I think story obvious reasons.

And. Oof. Oh boy. Pandora meet box.

Muse -- EB (pre RnS, when he was the Champion. "reverence is my birthright" goddamn it sure is king)

Viper -- The Demon

Kiss Your Dreams Goodbye -- The Demon

Mirror -- Martyn ("Guess there's no point in playing nice, what makes you better than me?")

Bounty Hunter -- Martyn (there are so many little one-shots and shorts I wanna do with him :') )

Revived -- EX

Nightmare -- EX

Reign -- EX

I Need You -- Tanguish

Under The Weather -- Tanguish

Manhunt -- Tanguish

Bad Omens -- Tanguish, Blade on Crusade

Why -- Tanguish, Welsknight

Smile -- Helsknight

Villain -- Helsknight (to Wels yes, but also as his Colosseum persona)

Don't Wanna Lose You -- Helsknight

Last Goodbyes -- Helsknight

Welcome Home -- Helsknight

Ain't No Crying -- EB, Red, Helsknight ("make you live through the pressure, make you live through the pain, sacrifice you for nothing, we're still dying in vain")

Doomsday -- Tanguish, The Demon, Tango, Impulse (and Hels and Wels are there, in a "the Universe orbits around you" kind of way)

Breathe -- Hels in general

Tell Your Story -- Hels in general, Tanguish

[guiltygearconfessions]

dnd 5e builds for base strive cast (+ goldlewis!)

Sol: either an Artificer (Battlesmith) w a Barbarian (Totem) dip where his Steel Defender is his bike and Elk/Bear rage is dragon install OR a Wizard (Bladesinger) with a belt (headband) of giant strength and Tasha's Otherworldy Guise as his DI

Ky: Hexbalde Warlock w a Battlemaster Fighter dip since he seems charismatic and his patron cld be the Thunderseal. His manouevres: Trip (Stun Dipper), Lunge (Foudre Arc), Riposte (Vapor Thrust). Meanwhile, Eldritch Blast = Stun Edge, Booming Blade = Dire Eclat, can blow his limited spell slots on Lightning Bolt (Sacred Edge) or Hasted Booming Blades + Relentless Hex or just Thunder Step (RTL). Possibly take a sorc (Storm) dip or the Metamagic Adept feat to transmute spell and change his damage types to lightning + gain flying speed.

May: Ranger (Beastmaster) for sea animal shenanigans. Possible dips into Paladin (Devotion, to the Jellyfish Pirates) or Fighter (Cavalier) for mounted combat features and bonuses (e.g. Find Greater Steed)

Axl: Ranger (Horizon Walker) + Monk (Kensei)/Fighter (Battlemaster). The boring and "correct" answer here is pure bladesinger wiz using a flavoured whip for the Time Stop spell, but the teleportation offered by Horizon Walker and the idea of slipping between planes of existence seems flavourful. Ranger features also have a bit more trap laying flavour. Monk bonuses for movement speed + unarmoured defense to remain slippery while dressing casual.

Chipp: Monk (Shadow) with the Fey Touched and Shadow Touched feats for access to Shadow Teleport + Misty Step + Shadow Blade and maybe a small spellcaster dip into Sorcerer (Shadow) if only to get Quickened Spell for ninja flavour + Mirror Image (multiple Chipps!)

Potemkin: although a pure Fighter (Champion) is tempting, the 4 attacks per turn feels at odds w the slower, lumbering idea of Potemkin. Instead I propose DM fiat to allow smiting while Unarmed, then build Potemkin as a Variant Human (base feat used to learn Unarmed Fighting style) with full Paladin (Glory or Redemption). His devotion and larger than life presence give him moral power behind his blows which are weighty (big ass smites) but infrequent (2 per turn). The other athleticism, tanky abilities come from his Paladin subclass features. Spells like Command and Compelled Duel reflect his intimidating presence and ability to control the field. Spells like Thunderous Smite and Destructive Wave reflect his sheer terrain-altering strength. Feats could include Grappler, Tavern Brawler, Tough.

Faust: Pure Wild Magic Sorcerer or an even split btwn Wild Magic Sorc and Life Cleric. Dimension Door/Misty Step for teleports. Items could represent by: Meteors (Minute Meteors), Bomb (Delayed Blast Fireball), 100T Weight (Earth Tremor/Earthquake), Donut/Banana (Healing Word/Cure Wounds), Afro (reflavoured Web since its also a control debuff that turns into damage after fire exposure), Minifaust (so many summon spells but I like the idea of Guardian of Faith from Cleric), Trumpet (Insect Plague), Hammer (Catapult). And then Haste can be used with Quickened Spell to simulate item throw super. Tack on a couple fighter levels perhaps to Action Surge and emulate the 100 tension version + give some oomph to the occasional scalpel normal.

Millia: not base dnd but i think she fits a Blood Hunter (Lycan) pretty well. The flavour of undergoing a dangerous and forbidden procedure for power, the hair transformations... probably uses Rite of the Oracle (psychic) and Blood Curse of Binding (tandem top) to hold enemies in place for devastating up close "mixups" while still remaining highly mobile.

Zato: Fighter (Echo Knight) w a Monk (Long Death) dip (or, potentially, Undead Warlock). Fragile but frequently summonable puppet fighter w a Monk dip for the "unarmoured melee fighter" vibe + undying flavour or Warlock dip for more spell slinging vibe+ access to flight spells.

Ramlethal: taking a bit more from her Xrd incarnation, a mixed Cleric (Twilight) for access to Spiritual Weapon for the "remote/hovering sword" + a hover/fly movement rather than regular walking and a Warlock (Hexblade) with the Eldritch Smite invocation to burn spell slots for chunky damage that knocks enemies flat on their asses (Mortobato).

Leo: Rogue (Swashbuckler ) + Barbarian (Totem). Probably a Tiger/Elk Barb for the movement speed and the animalistic vibe, while the Rogue levels and Swashbuckler features give the idea of a speedy duelist who occasionally snipes out big damage hits from "converting" movement speed based mixups. (also Swashbucklers benefit from Charisma, which leo definitely has since hes led so many soldiers to their deaths 🥰)

Nago: Fighter (Samurai). I think a majority of Nago's features and design are reflected in this subclass- the idea of a fighter who takes a slow and measured approach while occasionally bursting into a flurry of sudden violence. The high level Samurai feature of taking another turn upon getting dropped also kind of feels like Nago blood rage- a last second gambit at the verge of defeat type of deal.

Gio: Monk (Astral Self). Gio's features as an unarmed, unarmoured, mobile fighter w a not-quite animal spirit are perfectly encapsulated in this subclass, down to her appearance transformations at high tension

Anji: Bard (Swords) with Fighter (Battlemaster) dip and the Dual Wielder feat. Swords Bard explains his armoured twirl (Defensive Flourish) and other more magical effects like the butterfly, koi, and his cinematic super. Battlemaster Trip (rekka low), Push (corner carry off fuujin), Sweep (spinny spins), Parry/Riposte (dedicated counters).

I-No: Oddly enough i dont think she's a pure bard. If anything, I think her style seems more offense oriented than support, so she probably has way more Sorcerer (storm) levels for flying and her other magic shit. For her Bard dip, probably a Whispers bard to play into her role as a mysterious and menacing antagonist figure.

Goldlewis: Paladin (Watchers) with a Warlock (GoO) dip. Watchers paladins already deal w abberations and aliens, and his smites could be flavoured as his big behemoth typhoons/down with the system. Warlock spells and blast reflect the gadgets stored by his alien.

Wow! Points for being so thorough! This is cool

[ringleaderising]

Did Magda strike a deal with Pig, or did he wake up one day thirsting for the big milf in the sky? (Or did Magda say "Pig.. go kill for me, sweety <3" and Pig went "ON IT!!!" and started hacking people up like a professional chef for his god-wife) - vabam-fr

So Pig technically became uh, The Pig in the aftermath of an incident at his first circus- before he joined the Vaudemire Sideshow. He intervened between a parent being needlessly cruel to their offspring about a treat Pig had given them while he was entertaining (Literally just a little piece of candy, it was not worth hurting a child over, and every other kid watching Pig's show at the time got the same 'prize') and when he stopped them (by physically stepping in between them, and then shoving the adult back, when they tried to get past him again) he accidentally shoved them into a tent pole with an outstretched, steel spike that hadn't been properly sunk- killing them.

In the ensuing chaos, Pig was taken aback- he'd never hurt anyone before, in all honesty he was a young guy, literally just working with the circus to have a place to live, after he left home to seek his charge. So he stood there, relatively frozen among the chaos- and while everyone else was having a full-tilt breakdown because the clown just offed somebody, Pig found his Charge. The blade of his Cleaver is actually that very tent-spike, heated and flattened into a cutting blade and blended with other metals to enlarge the tool, because it was the blood shed by that spike that called Magda to the circus grounds.

Called "Eyeless Mag" in children's tales, she too, was a victim of circumstance. slain by her husband- a sailor- in a fit of jealousy when he believed her to be cheating on him with visitors to the tavern she worked as a barmaid in, she was split tail to snout and tossed into the ocean near Vaudemire Way's dockyard- but with a spirit far too powerful and unwilling to die with her body, she joined The Host, serving as a prophet of death and a carver of cairn stones. She haunts the area around Vaudemire Way, carving grave markers and turning tough, living soil and tangled shadowy branches to provide a place to put those who's death she's forseen. She herself is Pig's Charge, brought only into contact with him when she is needed to warn or bury the dead, Pig's mind just kinda. Broke. in the genuinely tramatic moments of discovering his charge.

He's forgotten his name, using only the clown name he performed under- face paint unwashed so long it's seemingly fused to his scales, and costume ripped and tattered now patched with pieces torn from his kills, it's not Magda's fault he is what he is- she is a charge already failed, a dead thing he is constantly calling back to the land of the living to do her duty so he can spend even a few moments in her orbit.

However, he is the only friend Mag has known, for as long as she can remember at least- and so the Cleaversworn is a double-edged sword much like the weapon he uses in her name. She knows all he wants is to protect her, and she will allow that much, as there is a constant risk of exorcists and thronebreakers in pursuit of the more docile of those who populate The Host. In turn, she has a vested fondness for Pig himself, less a goddess and more a ghostly companion, who's talent with premonition and knowledge of death has allowed her 'champion' to skirt it, time and time again.

Magda attends any death in the area of the gaplands she oversees- it's not her fault that Pig happens to be behind most of them simply to see her again.

tl;dr: Magda didn't ask for this, and neither did Pig, but if he is going to swear himself into her service, the least Magda thinks she can do is keep him from dying while he's doing it.

[daydreaming-in-hyrule]

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗘𝗦𝗖𝗢𝗥𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗟𝗔𝗗𝗬 𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 (prologue)

synopsis: tales of old will always regale the listener with praises and recognition of the feats of esteemed gerudo champion urbosa. but time wears thin on the stories of pivotal companions, and most of them will ultimately leave out one vai, arguably just as important — a warrior, an advisor, a personal guard. most of all… a friend, and yet so much more; the chief’s light in the approaching darkness.

pairing: urbosa x f!gerudo!reader [reader is her personal guard & advisor]

word count: 544

warnings: use of Y/N, urbosa’s mother’s name is azrah, and reader’s mom’s name is isir. also a little bit of my idea of how urbosa’s lightning abilities were first discovered :)

a/n: not yet onto the main storyline! originally I was gonna just dive right in and start with the cutscene of her entrance in age of calamity, but I thought it’d fit together better if there’s a prologue and a little bit of introduction first. and I adore the idea of urbosa’s hair just sticking up all the time as a child bc she hasn’t learnt to fully control her lightning, I think it’d be so cute 💕

anyways, enjoy! <3

After a whole week of steadily rising temperatures that made even the desert-adapted citizens of Gerudo Town suffer, the scorching sun seemed to have taken mercy on the town. Children played in the streets, and vendors’ loud sales pitches rang through the air.

The Gerudo chieftain stood underneath the minimal shade of a palm tree, her personal guard standing to attention beside her. Their eyes followed the movements of two children, playing together with loud giggles and shouts that could probably be heard even from across town.

“They grow up so fast, don’t they? It feels like only yesterday when they drew their first breaths.” The chief’s tone carried a hint of nostalgia, as if memories from her own childhood were stealing their way into her thoughts.

“It truly does, my lady.”

“I am sure it’ll be no time at all till they’re grown… and then my daughter will take the throne.” The chief paused, shifting her gaze to her daughter’s playmate. “And what of your little one, Isir? You plan on beginning her training when she is of age, and inducting her into the guard?”

“Yes, Lady Azrah. I come from a long line of chiefly guards; it is only natural that I give her the training she needs to prepare her, should she be chosen as the next chief’s personal escort.”

A flash of yellow light caught Azrah’s eye and she looked at the children in surprise. “Isir… did you see that light? What was—”

The guard turned to the girls and alarm flared in her eyes. “Hey! Y/N! Put that down!”

Isir rushed forward to gently pull the small dagger out of her daughter’s hands, the blade glinting in the sunlight as she took it away from the children. Her child pouted, and Azrah’s daughter gave a little whine of protest.

“But Isir! We were playing Guards and Thieves!”

“Urbosa, you can do that without the knife,” Azrah crouched to place her hand on the little vai’s shoulder, unable to stop a smile from forming as she brushed a lock of unruly red hair from her daughter’s forehead. “Now, run along. I’m sure Hefza will give you a voltfruit — but only if you ask nicely.”

Urbosa’s eyes lit up again and she grinned, grabbing Y/N’s hand and turning to rush off into the streets to find the vendor. Azrah watched the children run off, a small frown creasing the space between her eyebrows. She could’ve sworn that she saw… something crackling, wreathing around Urbosa’s fingers. Something that charged the air around the girl and put a metallic taste in Azrah’s mouth. Perhaps there was a reason Urbosa’s hair refused to lay flat for more than five minutes at a time.

The Sage’s gift… could it be? But that would mean—

“My chief, with all due respect, I think those two will drive poor Hefza up the wall. As it is, she’s one of the few vendors who humour them in their little games.”

Azrah laughed at Isir’s wry words, turning to her guard. “We’ll pull them out if — no, when — she tires of being the Thief in their game. Until then… let them play, Isir. Let them be children. These carefree times will desert them sooner than you think.”

divider credits: @/saradika-graphics

[phoeniciandoodles]

Au idea 2: A Perpetual Gorgon

(secondary au idea since my body decided to 4 hours of sleep is more than enough than my usual 6)

The only minor difference is instead of Vulkan being a perpetual Ferrus is instead, with the arm the iron hands take to build their dad robot at some point dad’s severed arm grew Ferrus back, with Ferrus almost losing his shit finding out one of the first things his sons did was try to build a new him using a piece of his dead corpse.

Ferrus eventually tries to reform the iron hands during this time providing his tactical brilliance but kinda like Corvus needed to make more sons, but doesn’t suffer from what Corvus got slapped with by the alpha legion.

While daemon Fulgrim after his ascension and trying to just yoink perturabo’s soul, having Fabius Bile make copies of Ferrus but not at all good enough to replace the original Gorgon and eventually hears news of Ferrus being alive.

Fulgrim absolutely gets back into the Heresy with a fever trying to hunt down and find Ferrus, in all honesty he’s conflicted about what to do…maybe Ferrus could forgive and perhaps Slaanesh’s favoured champion could try to do forcefully try to get him to play along, perhaps show Ferrus how wrong he was and how clearly right he is.

Well if Ferrus disagrees he can just kill Ferrus and wait til he comes back and try again over and over again never letting Ferrus go far from him once he has him trapped like a cat playing with a mouse he’ll keep the game going, usually using his tail to hold Ferrus in a his tail and Ferrus throwing the most hurtful things to the Phoenician usually results in Fulgrim usually crushing Ferrus with his tail in his hissy fits.

Fulgrim absolutely ignores any previous clones of Ferrus and when he eventually does have ferrus he literally leaves no words no nothing to the eye of terror, he “totally” got them this far as he got Ferrus… what need or interest does he have to watch his other brothers fight like some clucking chickens. With the iron hands unable to find dad no matter how many ships they send into the eye of terror.

A lot of their time together is Fulgrim trying to get Ferrus to join him in the arts, including forging once and ended with Ferrus stabbing Fulgrim in the eye with a partly formed molten hot blade and Fulgrim getting a beat down, with most of Ferrus’s escape attempts almost successful but unfortunately not enough to stop a daemon primarch.

Fulgrim as well has the finest meals made for the both of them and tries to talk and convince him to do drugs with him and drink something live a little with Ferrus shutting it down every time, with Fulgrim shutting down any attempt of Ferrus talk on how he could be better with the Phoenician ignoring it as such discourse shouldn’t be at the table.

Ferrus utterly hates the music Fulgrim plays or has playing as it’s literally so loud and excessive only followers of slaanesh can actually enjoy it.

Ferrus despite all the shit his serpentine brother will put him through refuses to give in sometimes getting through to Fulgrim truly, making him a lot more manageable but trying to convince Fulgrim to go any form of back results in Fulgrim ignoring it by his words and expressions but deep inside…

Fulgrim knows it’s wrong but seems to over the years of however long he has kept and basically tortured Ferrus over and over with death after death, it slowly but surely slows down to Ferrus being able to call him out and speak the hard truth which Fulgrim has ignored or usually just try talking over him and not be killed at all just slightly squeezed like a stress ball.

With the Phoenician eventually not ignoring the truth just begging Ferrus for forgiveness for the countless years of pain and suffering, with Ferrus finally free and he will drag his serpentine brother kicking and screaming if he has to make as many things right and seek redemption and forgiveness from their father.

To both of them the track of time slipped out from under them both in the eye of terror after 10,000 years, the heresy long over and gone, with them both exploring the galaxy and doing right, with Ferrus sometimes having to bonk Fulgrim for his excessive addictions and old habits Ferrus despises to no end..A reminder of how much his brother was trying to be better once was and internally stresses him… as their father imperium is not how either remember it at all.

( I need to seriously write all this shit down in a story format eventually as I got to decide which idea to focus on)

[mcytadventevent]

@thatapolloguy is creating for Day 10!

Prompt: Sports / Competition

Their piece is written, featuring Ren and Martyn!

Credit Links:

https://thatapolloguy.tumblr.com/

https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatapolloguy/pseuds/thatapolloguy

(Piece under the cut!)

The familiar sweaty cold air of the ice rink hits Martyn like a train as he drops off his bag on the bench with a thud. Of course, he takes better care of his skates than that—they're resting in his hands. The laces are a frayed mess from all the times he's had to pick the knots he ties in them apart, and he knows he'll have to replace them at some point, he just…can't be bothered at the moment. It's definitely not like there's a vending machine where the laces are…not good, but decent enough, and cheap about twenty feet from him, no sirree, why would anyone say that?

He hears a clunk beside him as he begins unzipping his jacket. No point in wearing it when he's well aware he'll just be working up a sweat. Christmas season is beginning, which means that the times for practice are more expensive, and few and far between. Martyn took half a year off of skating from a poorly-executed landing (on a warm-up jump, no less, which he's still mad about), which means for next year's set of competititons, he's going to need all the practices he can get.

Martyn turns as he hears muttering of frustration, and raises his eyebrows at the sight of the town's golden boy—well, that's only because he's a champion, and Martyn is left at being an amatuer—struggling with the zipper on his bag. "You skating today?" he asks.

"Planning on it," Ren grunts, finally freeing his beautiful set of black bedazzled skates from their prison. "Why?"

Martyn narrows his eyes. "Nothing," he says. Technically, he didn't reserve the rink, he just chose to come at the ungodly hour of five in the morning, when the rink's just open, and only at limited capacity.

Ren shrugs. "I got Montreal in March, dude," he says. "Ya gotta train for this stuff, man."

Martyn huffs a breath out, but still sits down, taking his shoes off to replace them with his own skates. They're not bedazzled, nor do they shine in the half-hearted flourescent lights above them. "Yeah, good luck with that," he says.

It sucks, really, being the only two figure skaters in a small town. One, since same-sex skaters aren't allowed in official competitions, they have to outsource pretty far to get a partner. Two, even if same-sex skaters were allowed, Martyn is way worse at skating, especially since the injury knocked him out for a few weeks, and it seems like Ren is finding every opportunity to prove that to him.

What's worse? He's just kind. It would be better if he was stuck up, instead of humble and down-to-earth, the kind of guy to help an old lady carry her groceries. It's impossible not to like him. Of course, he's got a wild imagination, judging by the costumes that apparently he designs himself for his act with False.

(Yes, Martyn's seen every single performance that has ever happened, even the ones from qualifying rounds way back when Ren was still in high school. He's not a fan, he��promises.)

Martyn's still tugging on his right skate when Ren hobbles over to the door of the rink, unlatching it carefully. The iron heaves an angry noise at him. He looks like such a penguin on land, it's incredible to beleive that he could even make it to a world championship at all—but as soon as the blades fit against the ice, it's like he was born for this.

The time he takes to warm up goes to prove how good he is—careful, tiny hops at low speed, barely even launching off the picks. He looks intensely concentrated, even as his hair falls into his eyes. Martyn finds himself mesmerized, shifting his view to catch more of his path. Little rotations, abrupt turns, Ren picks up speed before finally launching into a couple simple toe loops. Easiest jumps in figure skating, base value—Martyn can't remember. If he's being honest, he's not a very good skater, not in the sense of he'll fall on his face trying to do it—although, that's true as well—but he's bad at calculating things, the ways that he should jump for maximum points.

And then there's Ren, who recently nearly landed a quad axel. Show-off.

False isn't here today, though, which is nice, because Martyn thinks he might actually lose his mind if he has to see Ren throwing her around. She's got a good bit of muscle on her, too—just makes Ren seem all the more strong.

Of course, being the male partner, Martyn shouldn't be surprised that nobody will throw him around, but sue him, it's the internal want to have someone else take care of something for him. Even if that something is the liftoff of a jump, or just a lift. He's never had much of an opportunity to try it, really.

Finally breaking himself out of his stupor, Martyn laces up his skate and stumbles over to the door with much less elegance than he intended. Ren doesn't even seem to notice, spinning in a tight circle. His face is twisted up in concentration.

As he emerges, he waves at Martyn. "Hey!" Martyn yells back. Ren perks up like a dog, quickly skating over to join him. His skates scrape the ice as he narrowly avoids crashing into the wall.

"What's up, my dude?" Ren replies, grinning.

"How do you do the lifts?" Martyn asks. "You know, I've never had a partner, and I just was wondering."

Ren brightens, his blue eyes catching light that beams off the smooth ice only broken by his own path. "Oh, sure, dude, it's easy," he says. He grabs Martyn by the waist and pulls him to go with him, Martyn barely managing to match pace. He's talking, and Martyn can barely hear him over the pounding in his ears.

It takes him a solid five minutes to realize he's been lifted into the air. The world is spinning around them—yes, Martyn, that's because he's spinning, get a grip—and Martyn grabs for his shoulders, lacking all the female elegance his role currently requires.

Ren laughs, setting him down on the ice again, and Martyn stumbles, barely catching himself on the man's shoulder. His face flushes, burning in the suddenly-much-warmer air.

"Again?" Ren asks.

"Yeah, sure," Martyn chokes out, and is surprised to find himself sounding only mildly strangled.

[missdaytonawrites]

light shower • a. anderson

summary - a pleasent lil' domestic evening with abs. :)

WC - 853

cw/tw - none! just a fluffly take on evenings with abby, still 100% MDNI. afab!reader, domestic!abby, kissing, teeth-rottingly sweet fluff, gendered pet names (pretty girl, my girl etc.) just a whole lotta love here.

A/N - ..heeeey people... heres another fic for my abs!!! i promise theres a POTO fic comin.. bear with me lol. i love everyone elses love for "kintsugi" so i wanted to get somethin' out that gives ya' a taste of abby on the complete opposite side of the spectrum. just a little refresher after this weeks previous smut. hope yall eat this up!

"i was surprised to see heaven in your eyes."

an extremely loud “crash” noise comes from the slammed-shut screen door, it follows the squeal leaving your lips and the thumping of your footsteps against soft soil. as you full-sprint into this spring's greenery, your senses are flooded with the pine-y scent of the season.

not much time passes before you hear the screen door creak and then loudly slam again. but this time, its abby, ever-burly and beautiful as she barrels down the back porch and into her yard to get you. “can’t hide from me, pretty lady!” you hear her shout from behind the bush you're using as camouflage, “gonna find you and get you!” she triumphs.

you were current reigning hide n’ seek champion, having won three games more than abby just today! always finding new or adventurous spots that would have her searching for hooours. you were typically the one who insinuated these seemingly childish games, practically begging for abby's attention as you whined and tugged at the neck of her shirt.

abby, on the other hand, secretly loved this. the domesticity of it all? her absolute favorite, she loved coming home from work and playing a couple rounds of tag or hide n’ seek with you. pretending she was a kid again with her person was the best part of her day. she never really could let the stress of work bother her when she knew what was waiting at home.

exactly where she was right now, looking high and low through the botany to find you. hoping that this time, you’re in a spot she can actually get to you in. you were infamous for climbing up into trees or into hidden cabinets when you really wanted to win. at this point, abbys ready to give up! feeling as though shes looked in every bush and behind every tree, just as she hears a faint rustling and… umph-

in the blink of an eye, she’s got you in her arms bridal style and has damn-near tackled you to the ground. boy, was it a sight to see. the two of you stumbling about, like a pair of idiots, trying to come back from the giggling fits you’ve both fallen into. once abby has safely caught her balance and has you secured in her embrace, she erupts with giggles again as she lets you both clumsily fall to the ground. “can’t believe ya’ got me!” pouting as she pulls you close to her, brushing your hair out of your eyes. “dunno what you want me to say,” she shrugs against the grass, “i got a knack for findin’ pretty girls hiding in my backyard.”

you scooch even further into her. “yeah, yeah. you do this time.” abby brushes you off her shoulder and leans over your lying form, plucking a longer piece of grass from the earth. rolling back over, she props herself up on her elbows and begins to trace your features with her freshly picked possession. the blade of grass traces up the bridge of your nose and over one of your eyebrows. it goes down and over your cheekbones, then brushes your lips. the faint texture of the plant sending you into an all-encompassing nirvana.

now she twirls the grass, just barely, against your cheek. letting it drop while she closes the distance between you two, her lips grazing yours for a fraction of a second then passionately pressing into yours. abby couldn’t ever get enough of your kisses. she would kiss ya’ till she ran out of breath if she could! your lips were so plush and typically moisturized, you always smelt like fresh fruit. getting absolutely lost in the intimacy, she begins to alternate between kissing and nibbling on your lips. practically sucking a hickey onto your lower face, she takes a deep inhale of your scent and then pulls away. slowly detaching her lips from yours with a dreamy sigh.

“such a pretty lady i got beneath me..” she sits up and your head sorta naturally falls on her lap. “love comin’ home to my pretty girl.” these parts of your evening, where time feels sticky-slow and the hot air starts to cool, make your heart swell. life with your abby was everything and more, something you’d wish for twenty times over in another life. so there you and abby sat, wrapped up in one another while you softly hum into her leg. she whispers sweet nothings as her fingers rake through your hair, and it doesnt take long for you to start to doze off in her lap. she doesnt let you drift too far off into sleep though, scooping you up and courting you in the house.

she gets you into bed and mutters something about being right back before leaving to go turn out all the lights and lock the house up. once she returns, there you are. the sweetest thing to ever walk gods green earth sleeping peacefully amidst her sheets. clicking out the bedside lamp, she climbs in next to you and makes sure your tucked in. “g’night pretty girl.” and then, same as you, she's out.

i hope you liiiike! im such a sucker for sweet gf abby maybe you are too, i promise there are more fics to come!!