#blue frost cannon

[necronomi-kun]

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Hey I love your works and I was wondering if you could write a fluffy head cannon about dad Sam monroe with it being Sam's first Christmas as a dad for bunnycember. If this is possible then thank you and if not then I don't really mind. Thank you.

Author's note: anything for you nonnie

SAM MONROE who made a rocking horse for his little boy;

“Sammie,” you murmured, drawing your knees up to your chest as you inched closer to your boyfriend, watching him wrestle with the instruction manual. “We can just buy one, you know. You don’t have to do this yourself.”

Sam glanced at you, irritation flashing in his blue eyes as he flipped the booklet around like it would suddenly make sense. “No way. I’m not gonna be that kind of dad. This thing says it’s easy to put together, and I’ll be damned if I can’t handle it. Although…” He squinted at the pages again, his jaw tightening. “I’m convinced the idiot who wrote this wasn’t speaking human.”

You bit back a smile, watching as his frustration turned into sheer stubborn determination. “But,” you started hesitantly, trying to find the right words, “are you sure he even wanted this? I mean, he’s barely speaking yet…”

Sam turned to you, dropping the manual to the floor with a dramatic sigh. “Y/n,” he said, dead serious, though his lips twitched into a small, cocky smirk. “I saw it in his eyes, okay? He practically begged me for this damn rocking horse.” His voice softened, pride lacing every word as he added, “And what my little man wants, he gets. End of story.”

SAM MONROE who insists he’s 'not into Christmas', but the way he gently wraps the lights around the tree while explaining to his son why the star goes on top says otherwise.

SAM MONROE who you find in the nursery. He’s got the baby cradled in one arm, a book of Christmas stories in the other. His voice is low and soft as he reads “The Night Before Christmas,” pausing every so often to kiss your baby’s head and whisper, “I’m going to make every Christmas better for you, little guy.” but lets be honest, I think Sam would pass some parts from the book(s) cause for him it'd be too cringy and he'd just add something that isn't in the book but he came up with

SAM MONROE who gets stressed about finding the perfect gift for your son, even though he’s too young to remember it. He drags you to a dozen toy stores, debating the merits of a stuffed animal versus a set of wooden blocks. “It has to be something meaningful,” he mutters. In the end, he settles on a plush bunny

SAM MONROE who complained that it’s “embarrassing,” after you picked out an adorable reindeer onesie for your son yet you catch sam taking about a million photos of the baby wearing it. He even changes his phone wallpaper to one of those pictures, though he’ll deny it if you call him out.

SAM MONROE who woke up earlier than you’ve ever seen him, eager to see your son’s reaction to the gifts under the tree. The baby is more interested in the wrapping paper than the toys, but Sam doesn’t care. He sits on the floor in his flannel pajamas, helping your son tear the paper while grinning like a kid himself.

SAM MONROE who surprisingly insists on starting a new family tradition—baking cookies together on Christmas Day. You both end up covered in flour while the baby bangs a spoon against the counter. The cookies are misshapen and slightly burnt, but Sam calls them “perfect” and he sneaks one into his son’s tiny hand, ignoring your protests of the late hour

SAM MONROE who has his little son on his lap during decorating of cookies - he'll so gently hold the boy's puffy hand, aiming it so the frosting wouldn't go somewhere else than on the cookie. He ends up putting some icing in the his and the boy's mouth to 'make sure it tastes good'

SAM MONROE who helps his little son build his first snowman - and even takes hundred of pics from different angles but if you'd (or anyone) catch him, he didn't do them. He'd also lift his boy so he could stick a carrot to the snowman's head

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @rssmary @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @r0b-in

[bananaactivity]

Full Mighty Med main crew Redesigns

Just some lowkey redesigns of the M and M’s WITH VIGILANTE-ADJACENT SKYLARRRR!

A pack of baddies if I ever saw one… not only did I add Sky but I updated Kaz and Oli to have brighter suit pallets, here are some singles

Oliver (Oli) Knox Himing (Frost-Flare)

Kazimieras (Kaz) Jan Krakowski ( Wild-Spark)

Skylar (Sky) of Caldera ( Skylar Storm)

Face close ups ( maskless)

(Still can’t believe I made Oli so pretty)

Yeah they all get hair things now cause I said so…

I think a third season of a years worth of time fighting Mr Terror will give Kaz and Oli a chance to get used to their powers so they don’t become burdens to that whole Elite force shit… plus Sky just has guns, motorcycles and martial arts now. Powers be gone permanently.

I’ll do Adam Bree and Chase’s blue matching shit later. Like that’s THEIR thing being all matchy matchy with mission suits so they get the blue EF update and Leo and Marcus’ team can keep the red and black shit.

I also don’t care about adding Adam being a WAY bigger team. MnM’s don’t separate neither do the Rats. ADAM IS COMING ALONG. SINSISTER SIX CAN EXIST SO THE SILLY SIX CAN TOO

Leo has his own team made up of Marcus, Taylor, and Logang. They stay behind and do shit for Mission Creek while supervising Team Tots ( Spin, Bob, and Daniel) I’m sorry but in this they never go to Seaford because it’s not cannon that Kickin it and LR exist together.

To pay respect to my OTP in both my Kickin it and Lab Rats universes Kai and Marcus shall stay single. There is only one universe where they find their forever partner and that’s in the crack universe where they bully each other forever and never even get married until their late 30s… what a painful existence.

(I did the thing a long time ago where i realized I only drew girls, so I switched to boys so I wouldn’t struggle. Then that made it to where girls aren’t my strong suit and now I mostly draw guys. So if my girls look a lil sus I’m sorry)

[t-allyitup]

random things i think the cul de sac kids like

nazz: blue raspberry flavored slurpees, scott pilgrim, black waterline makeup, those barrettes that snap closed and pinch ur fingers, dark chocolate, usher, the smell of gasoline

jimmy: funky shaped mirrors, imitation coconut, neon green, possums, wedge sandals, elephant ears (like the food), the humidifier in his room that is currently collecting mold

edd: gorillaz, purple jolly ranchers, grape flavored anything, humid summers before the rain comes when the sky is dark, white tea, linen fabric, prank calls (his fav mischief)

may: collecting bottle caps, headbands, gilmore girls, skorts, towel fabric (i think it's called terry cloth), eating apple pie filling right from the bag, cherry blossom olay body wash, getting to stay home sick from school

rolf: polyester (shhh), super hot weather, blue socks that match his hair, the olympics, brokeback mountain, being alone, clip art, shakira, getting sunburns

ed: isle of the dogs (he cried), orange faygo, those rap music videos from 1997-2003, helium balloons (for sinister [inhalation] and regular reasons), falling asleep on facetime, having people in his room, gift giving, sleeping with an eyemask, salt and vinegar popcorn

eddy: those sweaty scary naps, cookies and cream milkshakes, pillow pets, white chicks (the movie), confetti cannons, carnations, zebra print, ric flair, sleeping face down on the pillow

kevin: wrestling (but he won't tell anyone because "that's gay"), nerds (candy), sleepovers (he hates sleeping alone), orange juice, sleeping with the fan on/background noise, coming back from the beach with sand everywhere

sarah: sprite, commercials with catchy jingles, christmas themed movies, climbing trees, grimms fairy tales, the smell of the lake, fake freckles made of makeup

marie: doja cat, slept-in makeup, off brand frosted flakes with strawberry milk, gangster/mobster movies, silicone/plastic jewelry in neon colors, screaming until her throat hurts, checking people's location on find my/life360

lee: pear scented body spray, men with tattoos, oat milk, polar bears, running until her chest hurts, wintergreen toothpaste, the taste of chapstick, late nights during the summer when you can hear the cicadas

jonny: the fast and furious movies, hail, roobios tea with 5 packets of sugar, paleontology classes, sleeping through 15 alarms, honeydew melon boba tea, muslin blankets, tearing through 15 energy drinks in 25 seconds

this is just stuff that makes sense to me imo like they just like these things. can't explain any further. tried to include some weirdly specific/normally considered weird things too bc i humanize them deeply

[rockn-rule]

so. got any thoughts to share with the class about our dear Jack Frost? i bet that lovely smile of his is haunting you right now 😉❄️

Oh boy do i

Jack Frost head cannons here I come

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚠 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

*❊- Obviously Jack is fruity, he has to be, and he definitely leans more on the spectrum of bisexual for me

*❊- Jack almost certainly is secretly lukewarm under his jacket, especially with all his layers

*❊- Jack would 100% be a good romantic you can't tell me otherwise- he would probably either make a rose out of ice or freeze one so it stays young forever

*❊- In terms of date ideas, I feel he'd enjoy a nice icy gazebo with some snowmen playing soft, melancholy, songs and a lil blanket and telescope for star gazing

*❊- He so has a fascination with cold stars and pluto

*❊- He'd plan picnic dates at night so that you could watch the Aurora Borealis and meteor showers together

*❊- He's definitely more loyal and obsessive than being cold and distant (ironically)

*❊- He would be the sort to braid your hair, or cut it for you- He'd also probably end up putting ever lasting snowflakes in your hair too

*❊- His fingers are undoubtedly cold, but his chest would definitely be almost burning- and he's definitely using all those layers of icy clothes to hide it

*❊- Probably has a sleigh, but it's definitely be driven by a draft horse that's got blue eyes and a silver coat

*❊- said horse would be be named Boreas, after the Greek god

*❊- He loves animals, especially snow leopards- and he's 100% sad they're going extinct hence why he brings winter early

*❊- He definitely makes slushies you can't tell me he doesn't

*❊- His favourite berry is probably mulberries since they are so resistant to frost

*❊- He probably bakes a lot, definitely leaning more towards souffle's and fancier things

*❊- He's so spy from tf2 coded in ways I can't explain, because he totally drinks wine and margaritas

*❊- He can't get drunk because he drinks so often

*❊- He likes ice ballet, for obvious reasons, and would probably beg you to skate with him- even pulling you gently onto the ice to lead you into a waltz

*❊- He gives me the vibes that he'd like the Russian song 'dark is the night's and some other older Russian songs

*❊- Undoubtedly a good kisser, definitely not the best for sure, but still good

*❊- He gets flustered so fast by simple praises and light touches, he probably whimpers and begs for one last kiss before he goes with puppy dog eyes like the pathetic idiot he is

*❊- Definitely signs 'I love you' in sign language from across the room, or table

*❊- He crosses his legs when sitting and moves a lot because he's got ADHD, maybe even hyper mobility too

*❊- You fall first but he falls faster sorta fella

*❊- He'd wear a dress to annoy the others but then realize he likes it

♡⑅*˖•. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .•˖*⑅♡

I'll be doin more of this eventually so be prepared for even more of 'I am clinical do not perceive me'

[mousetoe-wc]

I Got bored one time awhile ago and made a list of every prefix plus some into organised sections so I thought I might as well share.

All the ones that aren’t cannon to warriors, yet at lest are bold

Describing names

Colours: red, russet, copper, golden, amber, yellow, green, blue, violet, pink, white, gray, black, ebony, dark, pale, silver, brown, tawny, fallow

Pattern, Texture + Size: spot/ted, dapple, speckle, freckle, brindle, patch, mottle, ragged, tangle, kink, bristle, fuzzy, curl/y, wooly, soft, sleek, little, tiny, small, slight, short, tall, long, big, heavy, crooked, broken, half, stumpy, shred, torn, jagged

Actions + Character: flip, pounce, bounce, jump, hop, crouch, down, low, drift, flail, strike, running, fidget, mumble, whistle, snap, sneeze, shiver/ing, shining, flutter, fallen, lost, rush, fleet, quick, shy, sweet, brave, loud, quiet, wild, hope, wish,

Other: claw, whisker, dead, odd, one, spike, fringe, echo, song, hallow, haven

Elements

Time + Weather: day, night, dusk, dawn, morning, sky, sun/ny, moon, storm, lightning, thunder, cloud/y, mist/y, fog, snow, blizzard, ice, frost, dew, drizzle, rain, clear, wind, breeze, gale, shadow, shade, bright, light,

Earth/Water/Fire names: stone, rock, boulder, slate, flint, pebble, gravel, sand/y, dust, mud/dy, meadow, hill, rubble, river, ripple, whorl, float, rapid, shimmer, lake, swamp, marsh, wave, wet, bubbling, splash, puddle, pool, creek, fire, flame, flicker, flash, blaze, scorch, ember, spark, ash, soot, cinder, smoke

Plants

Trees: alder, aspen, birch, beech, cedar, cypress, pine, elm, willow, oak, larch, maple, bay, rowan, timber, bark, log, wood, twig, acorn, cone, seed, spire

Berry/Nut/Fruit/Herb: juniper, elder, sloe, holly, yew, mistle, bramble, hickory, hazel, chestnut, nut, apple, cherry, cranberry, olive, pear, plum, peach, chive, mint, fennel, sage, basil, mallow, parsley

Flowers: aster, poppy, primrose, rose, bluebell, marigold, tansy, pansy, briar, cherry, daisy, dandelion, daffodil, tulip, violet, lily, myrtle, thrift, yarrow, heather, lavender, blossom, bloom, flower, petal

Other: leaf, frond, fern, bracken, sorrel, hay, rye, oat, wheat, cotton, reed, pod, cinnamon, milkweed, grass, clover, weed, stem, sedge, gorse, furze, flax, nettle, thistle, ivy, moss, lichen, bush, vine, root, thorn, prickle, nectar

Animals

Mammals: mouse, rat, mole, vole, shrew, squirrel, hedgehog, bat, rabbit, hare, ferret, weasel, stoat, mink, marten, otter, hog, wolf, hound, fox, vixen, badger, deer, doe, stag, fawn, sheep, cow, pig, lion, tiger, leopard, lynx, milk

Birds: robin, jay, cardinal, thrush, sparrow, swallow, shrike, starling, rook, swift, dove, pigeon, crow, raven, duck, goose, heron, wren, finch, swan, stork, quail, gull, lark, owl, eagle, hawk, kestrel, buzzard, kite, hoot, feather, bird, egg, talon

Fish, Reptiles + Amphibians: pike, perch, pollack, trout, tench, cod, carp, bass, bream, eel, minnow, fin, snake, adder, lizard, turtle, frog, toad, newt

Bug type Names: bug, lady or ladybug, moth, spider, ant, snail, slug, beetle, bee, wasp, dragon or dragonfly, bumble, worm, maggot, cricket, fly, midge, web, honey

Skyclan + Warriorclan: Bella, Billy, Big, Harry, Harvey, Snook, Ebony, Monkey

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 10. Snow Prints

Pairing: Colonel Brandon x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Setting: Christmas Market in Town -> The Lake -> Dashwood Home (Not exactly following cannon, moving the time to winter and the manner Brandon visits the Dashwoods for the first time.)

A/N: I thought we’d take a little tiny break from the serial fics - I do feel I need a breath as it takes way more to write several serials at the same time than one shots (for me) 😂 Also, Brandon seems to be very loved this year, so thought I’d give him some more screen time so to say 🥰

I have perhaps spent too much time on this fic but it ended up flowing and turning into this 5k piece - anyway, I really hope you’ll have a splendid time reading this! We are nearing the middle of Rickmas2023 and I feel good about having been able to post at a decent time every day so far 😍👏 (Let’s hope I can keep it up all the way through 👀😂)

Tags/TW’s: Instant Infatuation, Forehead Kisses, Hand Holding, Accidental Meeting, Unintentional Invasion Of Emotional Privacy, Self Derogatory Thoughts, Classicism, Nicknames, Mutual Pining, Confessions Of Adoration/Love, Implied Future Marriage, Slighty Sassy OC, Chivalry, Poverty Hints,

Word Count: 5k+

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Mrs Jennings laughed by a market stand down the busy street, Margaret squeezed my hand and I could not quite keep a smile from spreading across my lips as she giggled up at me. “She never stops, does she?” Margaret asked with that childlike twinkle in her eye. “I’m afraid not, Maggie,” I chuckled. “She means well, but I do think Miss Markle is quite over her matchmaking attempts, as most of us are.” “Well, you are free of it,” Margaret said with happiness, not knowing the knife it twisted within me. “Indeed, lucky me,” I said as happily as I could. Knowing full well she held little interest of pairing lowly me with anyone at all.

I was an orphan, a mere child-tender for the Dashwoods before Mr Dashwood passed and left the family in ruin - in every manner. Now I was a burden on the kind family, allowed to live with them and dine after them in exchange for not only taking care of Margaret but cleaning and tending to every manner of household chore whenever needed, teaching the child to read and write, to interpret texts as well. No pay given, but a roof over my head and food in my stomach. It was more than I could ask for given the circumstances.

“Mellie,” Mrs Dashwood called, “go buy us some mistletoes and meet us at home!” “Right away, ma’am!” I called back, squeezing Margaret’s hand before ushering her toward one of her older sisters. I trodded off, heading down the market street with vendors filling the space and air with shouts of prices and smells of Christmas. I weaved through the crowd, well-versed in not being in the way.

I found the right vendor and purchased the holly for the Dashwoods, laying them atop the bread and carrots in my basket before turning about. My eyes caught sight of a brilliantly red coat with black and golden details. It stood out in the throng of greys, browns, whites and beige clothes, none as brightly coloured — not even the greens and blues, all in muted saturation. A man of the military? My eyes slid upward only for my breath to catch. He was stunning in profile. Older, with slightly peculiar features — like his hooked nose and thin lips — but more handsome than any other man I had ever laid eyes upon. His grave features and remote manner of looking only made his features shine brighter in the afternoon sun which made the snow glisten on the rooftops.

I stood stock still in the middle of the street, a messenger boy ran right into me, knocking my basket out of my hand — breaking the spell I had been under by the man. I hurried to pick up the greenery, the cloth-wrapped bread, and frost-bit carrots, before scurrying away, throwing one final glance back before entering one of many narrow alleys. His eyes appeared to see me for a second before I turned and hurried away from the market. No matter how handsome the man was, or how my heart had stuttered at his appearance, he was no man for me. I was all too aware of it.

I held on tightly to the basket, the day was beautiful and with the bright sun and lack of wind I managed to keep warm. I sped up my steps as I cleared the town’s border, crossing over a field to take a shortcut through the woods beyond; then it would only be a matter of two more fields to cross, a small hill to hike up, and I would be home once more. I didn’t mind walking through the snow, the boots Mrs Jennings had given me upon winters arrival were far too big but allowed for three pairs of socks which kept me plenty warm as long as I moved about. I was thankful for her gift, even if it were only for them being too small for her but too big for anyone else to wear, and with their shafts reaching nearly to my knees no snow slunk within them even if I pulsed through it at the moment.

I reached the woods, feeling a need to look back toward the town where I had seen the handsome man I was sure to never see again. Even if no man ever finds me to his liking I can at the very least allow the oddity of daydreaming of it to keep me happy, should I not have at least that? I squinted against the direct sunlight as it sank, bathing the sky in orange and pink only making the glittering snow look further magical with the twinkling light of lanterns and candles coming from the town. “A military man, perhaps that would be a grand life.” Not that I shall ever know it for real.

I half giggled to myself, enjoying my little daydream where the man in red would smile sweetly at me and marvelled at the quietly spectacular view. It was interrupted when something came barrelling across the field, someone atop a horse riding at the utmost speed with snow spraying about them yet I could not see any details with the last bit of sun glaring me in the eye and turning them into nothing but a shadow.

I thought little of it, many cut across the field to return home, so I turned and kept walking while wondering what voice would belong to the man in red — a commanding one, an assured one, a powerful one. I could not imagine a man who looked like he had to speak in any meek or bright fashion. No, no a most strong voice ought to belong to such a gentleman.

“Miss!” I spun around in haste at the dark rumble of a call that was somehow heard so clearly. “Miss!” the man called again and I raised a hand to cover my eyes from the sun. My heart stuttered as the man in red came barrelling towards me, his giant black steed’s hooves made the snow spray in magical waves of sparkles all around him.

He halted the horse with great skill, going from a gallop to a near-complete halt in a mere two steps. “Miss,” he said again, his voice a rumble which seemed to shake my insides. “Y-yes?” I asked, bowing my head while curtsying deeply. The thud of feet hitting the snow-covered ground rang out and I looked up. He was a head taller than me, his shoulders stiffly held and his back utterly straight. He looked every bit a stoic gentleman as he inclined his head before reaching out his hand, holding a mistletoe.

“Sir, I— What is this?” I asked while looking between the man who made my heart run rampant and the greenery in his glove-clad hand. “You left this behind, miss.” “Oh… oh!” I rummaged around my basket and indeed, there were only seven when there ought to have been eight of them. “Thank you, sir. I apologize for the trouble you went through for such a small thing.” My cheeks nearly seemed to burn as he handed it over while I spoke and then secured the mistletoe under the towel covering the basket.

The man looked at me, his eyes sweet but his features stoic. “It was no bother, miss. I merely followed the snow prints.” But, I left none behind until I reached the field? “I’m grateful for your kindness and effort, sir.” “Colonel Brandon, miss. At your service,” he said and placed his closed fist atop his chest before bowing slightly. “Melinda Merryweather,” I replied, endeavouring to keep my cheeks from burning up under his stare. “Beautiful Honeybee,” he said in a quiet drone and my eyes widened. “Excuse me, sir?” “Oh, no, miss, your name. Melinda, of Latin origin, meaning sweet. Constructed of mel, meaning honeybee, and Linda, meaning beautiful.”

I was not proud of it, but I gawked at the man. He knew more about my name than me myself. I had been aware of the Latin origin but the meaning of it had never been told to me. “My mother did have a fondness for the buzzing creatures, they fill an important role after all.” “Indeed,” the man said, “there would be little in terms of flowers without them.” “Oh, I was referring to food, Colonel Brandon. Flowers are pretty though.” “Their honey?” “No, they pollinate far more than flowers,” I continued, the education I had been given as a child tender to the Dashwoods far beyond any I would have had in another situation. “You are a woman of education.” “Oh, no, sir. I have merely been most lucky as a tender of children for the lovely Dashwood family.”

I did my utmost to speak calmly, but my entire body seemed caught on fire, the flames growing stronger with each second in his company. Talking is not my issue, remaining silent is. I’m certain he sees me as a know-it-all by now. “Luck plays a grand part in life. I admit, it has not been so graceful to me until now.” “Oh? You appear a most lucky man, sir.” “I shall not ruin said image of me for you, Miss Melinda Merryweather.” What to say to such a statement?

I had no need to think of it though, the man bowed and mounted his steed once more. My heart skipped a beat as he turned the horse about. “Thank you again, Colonel Brandon,” I said and he smiled at me, my skin burned and my breath caught as the last sunlight left the world but it seemed all the brighter when he smiled. “I wish you the best, beautiful honeybee,” he said with a sudden softness to his features and put his horse into motion, setting off in a rushed gallop without looking back once while my heart seemed to race at the same pace as the black horse.

Never had I met a man such as him. He was different, in the most sweet and good manner. I ended up watching him gallop back to town, I simply couldn’t make myself leave before he was gone. Strange sensations filled my chest and the heavy basket in my hand suddenly felt light in comparison to the weight of the newness, or, perhaps it was the knowledge a man such as him were not meant for me. For someone like me. A colonel had little business with a child tender turned into some form of a maid and teacher of reading and writing out of the goodness of my employer of many years. As much as warmth for the man bloomed within me, a sense of hopeless longing grew as well.

***

“I’ll only be an hour!” I called toward the little sitting room where Marianne and Elinor sat, one embroidering and one playing on the forte, while I slipped my boots over the many layers of socks I had adorned. I loved Marianne’s music, and voice, not blessed with either skill myself. Books, poetry, and stories lay me far closer to the heart though.

Reading, writing, and weaving stories of my own were my pleasures. My loves. And the past week my poetry had turned longing and somewhat sappy, to be truthful. I needed a moment with nature, to take a breath and rid my heart and mind of the grand colonel who called me a beautiful honeybee before riding off in a swirl of snow.

I wrapped a second scarf over my shoulders and headed out, the weather was splendid but cold. The midday sun had the world in a sparkle, a winter wonderland to adore and enjoy. I took a deep breath of fresh air and set off down the hidden road few carriages traversed. I followed it down the hill and then began my trodding across the field to reach the ice-covered lake where I was sure the most wonderful view where to be seen.

I had no idea how right I was…

As I came over the little hill, a wonderful view indeed sprawled out before me. But nothing could compare to the man standing right by the edge of the snow-covered beach, holding the reins of his large steed in a loose grip. With the sun shining high I could see him most perfectly, even if he wore no red coat I would have known his posture anywhere. The air about him was that of a single kind. I had spent so many words on the man, writing poetry to expel the feelings I had endeavoured to suppress ever since I had managed to tear myself away from the edge of the forest where I had last seen him galloping away in haste.

I stood still, once more stuck looking at the man from a distance without him being aware, and I felt as if all the feelings I had sought to tamper down and rid myself of through poetry took over completely. Let loose by his appearance where I least expected him. Oh, this is not proper! This is lunacy of the acutest kind. The man is a colonel, for goodness sake. I was about to turn around, play the coward, and run away while my heart ran rampant. “Honeybee!” came the loud rumble of the colonel, stopping me in my tracks (not that I’d begun to actually move).

The sound of boots and hooves walking through snow filled the air as he neared. My mind blanked when his soft gaze landed on me and a small smile spread his lips most sweetly. “Colonel Brandon,” I said and curtsied while hiding my bare hands behind my back. A bit embarrassed I had no gloves to speak of when he wore such fine ones of leather. “What a wonderful surprise,” he said. “What brings you to the lake, miss?” “Oh, umh, well, I was merely out for a walk to— To clear my head a bit, colonel.” “Perhaps a coincidence, I am here for that exact reason. What troubles you, if I may enquire?” You . Not that I could ever admit to such a thing.

“My troubles could not possibly be of any importance to a colonel, sir Brandon.” “I would take great pride in absolving you of any trouble, honeybee.” His voice was honest, his gaze a bit harsher and his voice once more a line rather than a smile, and that nickname set my stomach into an absolute flutter. “Do not tease me, sir.” “Never,” he said while taking a step closer. “I am not a man who would trifle with a beautiful woman,” he continued, taking another step. He was almost too close, yet not close enough.

My fingers fidgeted behind my back, the ends of my scarf swaying lightly in the soft breeze. A gust of wind blew by and my scarf flew off, tumbling along the snow in soft waves. He was off after it before I had a chance to even react. “Colonel!” I called, feeling like a nuisance to the man. “Colonel! Stop! It’s my—” He bent and snagged the thin fabric, holding it up with the sweetest of triumphant smiles before he jogged back. My icy fingers covered my mouth to hide the giggle, or perhaps to cool the heat flushing my face.

“My lady,” he said with a slight bow while holding out my scarf for me. I suffocated the laughter bubbling within me at his theatrics and reached for it. He jolted and grabbed my hand before I could pull away. “No gloves? In this chill?” he asked, concern written all over his handsome face while mine contorted with shame and embarrassment. “Thank you,” I said and wrung my hand free. “For catching it, sir.” I draped it over my shoulders once more but he only tilted his head to study me closer.

“I ought to return,” I said after a moment of silence, a silence far too intense. “They are expecting me at home,” I continued and curtsied swiftly before turning on my heel. “Miss Melinda,” he called, “stay safe!” “I shall, Colonel. I’m quite capable!” I called over my shoulder before waving at him, picking up my pace while leaving deep prints behind which I knew he would not follow this time.

***

It was the tenth of December, another week had passed since I saw the colonel and my little notebook was by now full of poems all revolving around him, around what he made me feel and wished to expel. My silly little heart had no wits about her, my mind just as snagged on his handsomeness — his kindness a lingering torment when there was no world in which I could be anything to such a fine gentleman.

“Mellie,” Margaret whined, “you’ve been writing for hours!” “Huh? Oh, have I really?” “Yes!” she said with a certain oomph to her voice. I merely smiled at her, mustering up the courage to not show her anything at all. “Is there a reason I ought to stop for the moment?” I asked as she leaned on the desk where I had, indeed, been sitting for several hours as lunchtime had arrived. “Mama asked you to fetch a bird for dinner, it’ll be dark if you don’t go soon.” “Oh, oh right! Yes, of course,” I said while shutting my little notebook and standing. “I’ll head out right away.” “But it’s lunchtime, silly goose.” “Well, there will be no goose of any kind, or other bird, if I don’t get a move on, will there?” “I’ll make a sandwich for you,” she said and scurried off with the usual happy spring to her steps. “With cheese and peppers, how you like it!” she called over her shoulder and I smiled at her sweetness.

I was out of the house a few moments later, hurrying towards town once again to get a bird for the family for the evening. Given how cold it was, one could have bought several and just had them in a box outside - they’d keep for weeks if the weather remained. But, again, I was not one to complain about some walking. I was rather fond of being out like that, truth be told. Truth be told, huh? More like give me something to take my mind of the man in a red coat, with a sweet smile, and soft eyes, and— Stop. Just, do not think of him. Simple as that. It was not , however, simple as that.

All the way to town, then through it, and back home again, I thought of the man. When I went down the hill to the house he was really the only thing I thought of at all. The fact I managed to keep my wits about me enough to see snow prints of male shoes unlike any other prints was a miracle. As the Dashwoods had company, obviously of the male kind, I walked around back and took the small servant entrance almost straight into the kitchen.

“Cook, here, I found a fantastic goose for dinner. It’s missing half a wing but the butcher gave me a great price for it.” “My, my, my, that is a good bird,” Cook replied as I held the naked goose up. Plucked and ready for cooking. She grabbed it and my cold fingers flexed with an ache to them. The thing was heavy and with the evening chill I struggled to get my blood flowing again for a moment while undressing my outside clothes only to put on a new scarf over my shoulders and thicker slippers on my feet rather than the boots and tripple socks.

“Here,” Cook said and handed me a tray of tee with some biscuits on a plate. Four cups on it, but it was the pretty china so the fourth one certainly wasn’t for me and Margaret didn’t drink tea. “Who’s visiting?” I asked. “Oh, some upstanding man, the boring type if you ask me. Tense looking. Too old for any of the Dashwoods too, no idea why the lady entertains him for so long.” “Long?” “He’s been ‘ere since one, came right after lunchtime.” “Well, perhaps he fancies one of them, or one of them fancies him. Is he rich?” “Very much so, Mellie.” “Well, there you have it then, Mrs Dashwood couldn’t send a rich man away — no matter his looks or age when she has two daughters she needs to wed.” “Indeed, but we both know the lady cares too much about what her daughters want to ever force a marriage.” “True, maybe she can force a marriage with a rich man upon me?” I laughed, both cook and I perfectly aware I wished for no such thing and nor would it ever happen either. No, love would be my biggest reason for marriage — riches were good, but love far outweighed it in every way.

As I came closer to the parlour I heard Marianne speak, asking whoever was visiting to read another. I didn’t know what she referred to but I gently pushed open the door, not making a sound as I backed in to not wobble the tray. “Snow prints—” My heart stopped in my chest. “—were followed, a path—” My fingers trembled. “—he ought not have taken. She was below—” The tray clattered to the floor, the china breaking and shards scattering all over the floor as I heard Colonel Brandon read my poetry, about him !

“Mellie, goodness me, are you alright?” said Mrs Dashwood with a shriek. I slowly turned, seeing the man who I had written those words for staring at me with wide eyes and slightly parted lips, Marianne sat far too close to him. He was a captivating reader, I could not fault her for her investment, yet my heart ached at the sight of the two.

“I— That’s—” “I gave it to him,” Margaret said with a beaming smile. “You write so well, Mellie!” she kept going and Colonel Brandon looked between me and the notebook containing my most inner thoughts in his hands. His eyes turned wider, his face paled and I felt my insides twist as he stared at me again.

Tears stung my eyes, the shame and embarrassment, the hurt and fear, the ache in my chest at the betrayal of the child I thought so highly of. “Excuse me,” I blurted out before bolting out the door, not staying to clean up the mess. “Mellie!” called Mrs Dashwood. “Mellie, what—” called Marianne with confusion in her tone but I was out of earshot for her sweet, clear voice. Such a contrast to the Colonel’s, so perfectly matched.

I ran out through the kitchen entrance, past Cook who prepared the infernal bird, and out into the snow lit up by the climbing moon as early evening had arrived. “Honeybee!” came the voice I dreaded to hear. “Stop, please!” he called and I stopped, my hand on the gate at the end of the backyard and my slipper-clad feet deeply buried in the white coldness below.

His running steps reached me, and the crunching of snow and slightly panted breaths filled my ears. Warmth wrapped around my shoulders as he hung his coat over me and I spun around in shock at the action. He was stood in only his vest and shirt, the biting wind tossed about his beautiful hair but all I really saw were the sweet, kind eyes staring at me.

“I never knew,” he said quietly while taking a step back. “Knew what?” I asked, attempting to not inhale deeply as his scent wafted up my nose. The perfect scent, the warmest and most comforting of scents. “That is was your beautiful poetry I was reading, the child gave it to me, asked for me to read something out of it. I thought it belonged to one of the ladies present in the room — and they did not object,” he said while looking most forlorn, nearly distressed. “I was not even aware you resided with the Dashwood household.” “I have for many years,” I said. “Marianne will be a perfect match for you,” I continued while thinking of their voices, the way she sat right beside him on the sofa.

Colonel Brandon stepped closer. “I have already found my match,” he said. “I asked you not to tease me, sir. And you said not to be a gentlemen who trifled with women.” “And I have not,” he said, his eyes hardening while coming far too close, forcing me to look up at him. It was all in my head… Only in my heart, not his. Perhaps, perhaps he is merely a most kind man? I have little experience with those.

“Honeybee,” he said, snagging my attention anew. “I have not, and will not, trifle with you, tease you. I am too old for games and life far too dark as is for me to make it any worse.” “Sir!” “I speak true,” he declared. “A gentleman such as you ought to be more aware of your own handsomeness.” He blanched at that, blinking at me before a timid smile stretched his lips in a manner that looked as if he were unable to control it.

“You find me handsome?” “What woman in their right mind would not?” “Oh, I do believe you may be a woman of singular taste, honeybee.” I gasped, gaping at him. “I beg your pardon? Are you accusing me of something?” “I am not a favourable option for most beautiful women, such as yourself. I am well aware of it. My riches perhaps an aid in seeing past it, or my standing in society.” I gasped anew, a mixture of an exhale and a laugh of disbelief.

“You are terrible, sir. You may wish to know I had no idea who you were until you introduced yourself, even then, I am new to this part of the county and have had little to do with the upstanding citize n so I am not aware of your riches. I do recognize the bravery and skill you possess to climb up the ranks, but any silly nilly knows such things,” I said with both hurt and irritation at the man who twisted my insides with warmth and want. “I apologize, miss,” he said, his face held in some sort of shame at the assumption he’d held of me perhaps. “No need, I am but a servant of no importance or value.” “What a foul thing to say…” “Truth is sometimes.”

Time stretched on while we stood in silence, simply looking at each other. “Miss Melinda, your poetry,” he began while looking at me with something I could only describe as respect, perhaps even admiration, “it is most beautiful, passionate, deep .” The change of subject threw me for a loop, a man such as him ought to hold no admiration of any kind for a woman such as I. “Like your voice,” I whispered before I could stop myself. I had thought of hearing my words in his voice, there was no way not to when his voice was such perfection. He chuckled. “My voice is to your liking?” “Everything about you is to my liking, as far as I’m aware. Sir .” I couldn’t help the sass, or the way my face had hardened while my insides were in an uproar over the man. I had to protect myself from the rejection that was sure to come despite his sweet words. It was only a matter of time, surely.

Yet, it did not.

His hands cupped my face, the gesture most intimate and highly improper. “If you are ever made aware of a trait of mine that is not to your liking, I will be very much obliged to correct it, to your liking, honeybee.” “W-What do you mean?” I asked, my breath tumbling out in a shuttering way. “Would you object to me?” My eyes widened while his finger stroked my cheek. “Object to you? Sir?” “I am beyond happy I caught a glimpse of you, heard the vendor call for you about the holly, and found your prints at the edge of town. I rode around quite manically to find you, you know. Following those snow prints, it was the best decision I have ever made.” “Colonel… Stop, we cannot, it’s not proper.” “Propriety can take flight and be on its merry way, honeybee. I have my heart set on you, my beautiful honeybee who writes the most captivating of poetry and smiles with nothing but honesty in her eyes. I have my heart set on you, Melinda Merryweather.” “It was about you…” I whispered while my skin burned under his touch. “Me?” “Yes… For weeks now, I’ve tried all I can to rid myself of these feelings and thoughts…”

Brandon viewed me with a mixture of torment and joy, I chuckled nervously while he released my face and grasped my hands. His coat slid off my shoulders as he tugged me closer — gently — and the cold December air wrapped itself around me. “Would you allow said feelings to grow? Fester? Become an irrevocable part of you?” “Colonel…” “I am already lost to you, honeybee. Allow me the chance to make you happy,” he asked kindly, his hummingly dark voice nothing but an endless promise of said happiness. “Yes. Yes, please,” I whispered as tears of relief and joy wetted my cheeks. “Honeybee… Beautiful Melinda… My Melinda,” he said before he leaned in and kissed my forehead with force, his thin lips perfectly warm against my chilled skin. “You shall not regret this, I promise you my all.”

We leaned back, my heart was aflutter and my stomach a warm ball of knots, and I could not help but smile at the sweet gentleman who had captivated my heart so easily. “I fear any regret I may have will be only a reflection of your own, Colonel.” “Christopher,” he corrected. “My name, is Christopher, honeybee.” “Christopher.” “How sweet a sound you make it. I shall wish to hear it every day for the rest of my life.” I only nodded at that, too stunned to speak when he so brazenly declared I was to be his for all time to come. I held no objections to that as his hands squeezed mine with warmth, his kind eyes a balm to my soul and his smile a thing of beauty far beyond the sparkling snow all around us…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: Oh how I hope you enjoyed this One Shot with our dear Brandon 🥰 I had so much fun writing this, and it did indeed turn out to be far longer than I had planned but I enjoyed each word I wrote of this 😍👏

IMPORTANT: Tomorrow I’ll be picking up a story from Rickmas2022! You do not have to read it before reading this years parts, but I do recommend it to get the full story. I will do a small recap before diving into the new parts too. The fics I will be continuing is 14. Icy Roads & 15. Frosty Glass (yes, it’s Hans and Anna-Louisa who are making a comback by super popular demand 😂👏). I've yet to start writing it but, well, guess it'll be a late night today 👀👍

Q: You can only choose one hot drink to consume during December: Coffee, Tea, or Hot chocolate? A: COFFEEEEEEEE all the way for me 😂☕

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @sunset90 @mamawolfsmith87 @snowblossomreads @ladykardasi @a-queen-and-her-throne @eternal-silvertongued-prince @lyrixsnape @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @daddythanatos

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2023]

[smolvenger]

A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter Thirteen (Loki x fem! Reader Hiddlesverse Crossover Series)

Series Summary: Based on Sarah J Mass's A Court of Thorns and Roses series with the Tom Hiddleston characters. You are a woman of 1885 in Aldwinter in Essex, England, dying of tuberculosis. Never to be married to the local Lusty Vicar. When Loki appears to you and offers to heal you...if you spend a week of every month with him.

Chapter Warnings: You and Loki journey to Jotunheim to find the orb. But when events turn for the worse...you decide to ask for help.

Chapter Warnings: Using an oldie but goodie fanfic trope (Court of Mist and Fury does it, so I decided to use it too), some insecurity and mutual pining, and mentions of past cheating with a character who isn't Loki. Fluff and Angst.

A/N: I am not 100 percent certain about the cannon world of Jotunheim, so I threw my hands in the air and cried "fuck it! Give them horses". The next chapters are coming in fast since work was slow and I used the time to write some first drafts. Hence the fast posting.

Series Masterlist

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter

Dressed in your warmest coats and sheathed with daggers, you both went through the portal.

Jotunheim was still as bitter cold as ever. If only Loki could just create a portal within Jotunheim to land you right in the cabin! But no- that wasn’t in his abilities, as he kept reminding you whenever you began to complain. You had to travel through the blasted tundra. You trekked through the sharp wind and snow with Loki for a few hours. Thank goodness your fire floated in your hands and the movement gave you warmth. But you had yet to sense out where the cabin was. And now it was getting dark.

You used a certain creature to travel through- horses only known in Jotunheim. Like a regular horse. Only this one was a little bigger than normal. Bright white as the snow and that had crystals of ice on him. The Jotunheim Horses were immune to the cold- it was where they thrived. In fact, it grazed to eat the snow, swishing its blue tail and mane.

When you both got tired of walking, he used some of the money you had brought to rent a special horse of Jotunheim from a village. Like a regular horse that had crystals on them. Horses that were immune to the cold- it was where they thrived. Only barely larger than normal. You eyed the saddle nervously.

“I never even rode a normal horse before,” you said.

“Now, don’t be nervous my dear- here, I will show you how...” Loki guided.

He helped you up onto the saddle, you in front and him behind. You swung your legs to the side like you saw horsewomen in photographs back home do. He guided the reigns and as you both rode, gave you small instructions- keep your heels down. Stay calm. Flick the reigns to make them go faster, tug to make them stop or go slower. He even let you practice riding it for a couple of miles forward, the horse trotting at a calm pace.

“We’ve traveled for hours…but we cannot lose our place…” Loki said.

He checked the book again.

“It should be close…but it means it’s several hours of riding…”

He looked at you shivering.

“And we’ll need to stop…”

There was a city nearby. Some of the Frost Giant people gaped at you, but you ignored their starings. You checked the few inns in town. But it seemed many were full due to Starfall and those traveling to celebrate.

Finally, there was the third and last inn You both went inside, going up to the innkeeper at the wooden desk in the lobby. Her blue skin seemed to shine in the light and her red eyes were bright.

“We have good news, there is one room available for the night…” she announced.

“Oh, wonderful!” you cried.

She looked between you both.

“However, there is a problem…” she began.

There was only one bed. One comfortable, blanketed, bed in that room.

It was far too cold to lie on the floor for hours. You both would have to sleep in it.

Your heart raced a little- something so intimate! Something you would have never agreed to do a year ago…but now, what choice did you have?

Loki had nightclothes conjured for both of you. You fought back the memory of seeing him sleep semi-naked. You both had warm, thick nightgowns that were as white as the Jotunheim snow. You felt your eyes continue to flutter down to see the V of his own nightwear. The little bit of hair that poked out of his chest. But then forced them away.

Once it got dark, you both got into the bed. You and Loki turned around, him staring at the window and you at the wall.

The wind whistled sharply. Outside there were constant flurries of thick snowflakes. The cold air seeped through the room. Contrasting with the warmth of the blankets…and of your bedmate. Turning about, you had not fallen asleep yet. Your mind refusing to shut down despite the long day.

You kept thinking back, despite yourself, remembering the day you first spoke to him. The day he saved you at a price. But there was one little thing he said that still kept bugging you like an itch you weren’t allowed to scratch.

“Loki… are you awake?” you asked.

“Yes,” he answered. “Why aren’t you asleep by now?”

You heard him flip over and you followed suit. His dark curls out of the way of his face. Both of you on your sides, facing each other.

“Because I was thinking of the day you appeared to me when we made the bargain.”

“Oh yes…and what made you recall that?”

“Well, the fact we keep ending in each other’s rooms in one way or the other!”

His own eyebrows briefly shot up, and there was a smile on the verge of a little laugh on his face, yet he remained quiet.

“It happened when I first met you- not counting when you were a cat…but there’s one thing you said I still muse on…it still makes me a little mad!” you blurted.

“Which one? My dear, I’m sure I said several things that enraged you back then…” he prodded

“That you were surprised I could talk back just because I’m a woman from my time.”

The other thought that was floating in your head was the memory of the letter to Cora you found- that one phrase that seemed like being stabbed in the gut. The one phrase that solidifed her superiority over you-“You are truly not like other women!”

Loki said no reply but merely listened.

“We’re people, like anyone else. We have feelings, like anyone else. Did you assume Just because we embroider and wear corsets that it means we’re boring or weak? We don’t enjoy being pushed around! We don’t like being mocked or hurt. And perhaps we aren’t all warriors, but that does not mean we are unworthy of respect! You should have seen my mother. I think she was far more in charge of our family than Papa ever was. Even Stella-Stella-said so to me that she wants Grendel and his army to, and I quote, ‘burn in hell.’”

“Norns above…” Loki muttered in reply.

“I can’t blame her after what they did to her…” you commented.

Loki furrowed his brow. He kept listening as you continued.

“It’s usually those who don’t know us who make such judgments. Who won’t even try to get to know us it…it…it’s comments such as these that make me so mad that I…I…”

The rest of the words failed you, and you paused. How much were you ranting about what he said…and how much were you ranting at the phrase in the letter? Perhaps he could tell. You were quite sure your shield was down. Loki only looked at you- realizing he had permission to speak.

“You were right back then. When I met you, I knew Thomas…but I never got to know a woman from your time. I made judgements and even jokes about it…but I didn’t truly know you then. I’m sorry,” he apologized.

“Thank you. I forgive you, Loki,” you replied.

You turned around. Facing the wooden wall with a chair and table on the other side. The fireplace in the room was a mere, dying ember. The smoke was so thin, it was nearly invisible.

“I hate to disappoint you, Loki, but there is not much to me other than my magic. I’m just like every other woman…” you said.

You tightened the blanket around you, your knees hugging up to your chest. A lump in your throat. But you heard the trickster god shift forward. His voice right near your ear and his warm body against yours. Part of you fell stiff, yet also…comforted.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he consoled you.

You turned back over to look at him. You accepted his closeness as you faced each other. His nose mere centimeters from your own. His eyes were as blue as the skies of Asgard. You could smell your dinner on his breath.

“There are far worse things in life to be…but…”

His voice went back to that of teasing, a small smile on his face. He had to be at least a little mischievous while he was still awake.

“You could still improve your taste in wedding gowns…” he poked.

You cocked up an eyebrow.

“That’s rich coming from someone who wears ruffled blouses with his tuxedoes!” you shot back.

You both burst into laughter. You could still hear his rich baritone voice in his laughter. You could feel the rumbling in his body, his chest seemed to vibrate with the mirth.

“What can I say? I enjoy dressing with a little bit more flair...” he sad.

You shot him a smug grin.

“Well, if I can wear a ‘monstrosity of lace’ as you called it, you can wear your foppish tuxedoes!” you teased.

He laughed a little more. Then his voice became gentle.

“Though you did look lovely at the ball the other night,” he said.

“As did you,” you replied.

So close…he was so close. You could have just wrapped him in your arms. Perhaps you should have. His closeness made his warmth radiate toward you. Your own thoughts and memories were spoken, and your concerns were heard like the breaking of a long-held dam. And now that it was released, you began to feel sleepy.

You curled up next to each other, merely brushing each other’s skin. Warm and safe despite the howling wind. You whispered goodnight and turned around to your other side. At once, you drifted to sleep.

When you woke up briefly, it was still dark. Perhaps it was early in the morning. You were facing the wall on your side, but something felt different. Something solid and heavy was draped over your waist. Too heavy to be the blankets.

You looked down and realized with a small jolt of your nerves that it was Loki’s muscular arm.

He wrapped an arm around you while asleep.

Dammit, dammit, dammit, you kept repeating silently.

Should you move him? Wake him up? Oh dear lord, you felt his chest and stomach against your backside. If he was asleep it was likely he wouldn’t be…well, aroused. You would be in the uncomfortable position of feeling something against you that you didn’t want to right now. No- it was a sleepy, chaste embrace from behind.

You heard his small snore. Like that of a cat. It was adorable, you had to admit. So no…you didn’t have the heart to move. You felt in his arms that you were safe…no, more than just safe…wanted. Wanted so badly that his subconscious needed you close.

No, YN that’s an illusion, you mused.

And yet…

This is what my life could be…yet he’s a trickster god and full of mischief and flattery, if I became his beloved, he’ll betray me for another…I’m so…so horrible that even a vicar would break what he preaches for another woman’s bed just to get away from me. If that’s what he did, then, what would a god of mischief do!?…and yet-

It was warm and comfortable. If it was an illusion, One that felt real- one that was only real. If only for a few minutes. The embrace was known to husbands and wives and lovers when they slept with limbs entangled. An embrace you were destined to never know… except for now.

Pretending like it was that domestic, loving comfort…you found your own eyes drooping. Back asleep you fell and deeply.

When you woke up that morning, you saw the window on Loki’s side. You felt no arms and no weight anymore on it. It was empty, save for you. The sun seemed especially bright with the snow reflecting off it. It shot into the window, making you squint.

Shifting over in the bed, you realized Loki was already wide awake. Sitting on a chair near the bed, concentrating on the little vanity with a shiny red apple he placed there. With a flick of his hand, the apple vanished in green smoke. Then it would reappear in the next corner. He gave you a smile in greeting.

“Good morning,” he greeted.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Practicing, my dear. It’s one thing to make a portal. It’s another thing to make something just vanish and take it somewhere else,” he answered.

“You’re working on it?” you cried.

“Practicing all morning. The furthest is four things that are not me. They can be sent several miles away…”

You felt the soft blanket, pulling it up to your chest.

He then used magic to have the apple reappear. He then placed it in his hand, shined it on his clothes, and took a bite with a loud crunch.

“It’s actually pretty easy. If I do it enough, I can do it without thinking.”

“Hmmm, It’s impressive…but please save an apple for me.”

He conjured one and threw it over to you. You caught it with both hands and thanked him.

After gathering more food, both of you mounted the horse and continued your long ride to the cabin. Stopping when needed, especially to check the map.

By now it was the late afternoon. But since Jotunheim was a land of eternal winter, the sky was dark. The snow kept falling and the cold wind kept howling at your side. But Loki’s company made it seem not as bad.

You finished the last of your bread and wiped the crumbs off of your mouth when you dismounted. Loki smiled as he showed you the map.

“Here- it’s not far…we’re almost there,” he promised.

You got out a carrot. The horse perked its ears. You offered it and the creature bit into it. It seemed that carrots were the universal favorite food of any kind of horse. You smiled and patted his long nose.

“What do you think of riding, my dear?” he asked.

“It’s a little nerve-wracking being on a living animal…but it can be fun. I’d like to learn more about it- I’m rather new and here we are.”

“When we return, I should let you practice with the horses we have. Perhaps I could show you how to ride with your legs over or even bareback! I’ve had years of training, you can trust me as an adequate teacher,” Loki proposed.

“Oh, Loki tell me- What kind of lessons does a prince have? What kind of classes or education? It must be interesting!” you commented.

He smiled at you. Going up to lift a hand to gently stroke the horse, brushing against the smooth ice crystals on its body.

“Well then, I remember there were etiquette lessons. Which is as fun for a little boy as you can imagine, but I managed to do well. Then we learned about how to use a sword and then we had to learn all of the history of-”

FWOOSH!

An arrow landed near your feet. You jolted with a small cry of surprise. The horse let out a cry with a raise of his front legs. Loki grabbed the reigns to try to calm him.

“Where did that come from?!” you cried.

You turned around and saw the answer.

Behind you were four men on Jotunheim horses of their own. The sadistic smiles on their faces and the dark armor on their clothes made your stomach heavy. They continued to ride, as one reached behind to get another arrow for his bow.

The breath stopped in your chest.

“Grendel’s men,” Loki breathed.

At once he threw you onto the horse and then got up himself. It was everything in you not to panic on the spot.

The horse galloped and held onto it for dear life. Looking back at the laughing, already triumphant soldiers with terrified eyes. Then you gritted your teeth in defiance of them. You let out a shaking hand, and the next arrows that were fired, you burned to ash to vanish in the wind.

But they were still gaining speed. The hooves of their own horses are like that of the drums before an execution. Loki kept urging the horse forward, too focused to create a duplicate or an illusion.

As all of you raced, you gained some distance away from them. Then they then fired another arrow. Faster than your flames could catch it.

Loki let out a yell of pain. You screamed out of instinct- an arrow landed in Loki’s right shoulder. It was black, full of grey smoke out of it like it was burning.

“YN, get it out! Quick!” he urged at you.

You let out a gasp and a small cry on instinct. But he kept riding. You turned around, and swiftly jerked it out, Loki letting out another groan of pain.

He then looked at the arrow in your hand, its swirling magic around it. His jaw dropped.

“No!” he exclaimed.

“What is it?” you asked.

“t’s a Kunnigr arrow! They are known for eventually draining one of magic!” he explained.

“What?! No!”

Loki shot out only a little green light from his hands.

“It’s still there, but it’s running out…”

He then suddenly stopped the horse. He at once pulled you down to your feet.

“Loki- what are you doing?!” you cried.

He looked at you. Sadness and resolve on his face. Your heart beat hard in your chest. He then grabbed your shoulders and looked you in the eye.

“Quick-listen to me- listen to me, YN darling! While I still have a little magic- I’m going to send you far from them. Go. Go find the Cabin. Find the Orb. Here-”

He gave you a pocket watch from his pocket, placing it in your hand.

“When you do, Get a signal to Asgard. Someone will see it- and they will get you.”

“Loki- no! Just transport yourself too! I’m not leaving this realm without you!”

An arrow was shot, and you both narrowly dodged it. But a few inches and- you realized with dread- it would have hit you.

“I am armed, I can fight them- but we’re outnumbered. Their arrows could make you lose your magic. And they won’t stop until they have at least one of us. I only have enough magic to save the horse and the brave woman I made a bargain with. …”

Deep in your gut, you knew he was right. And you hated it. His smile was so beautiful, so sad. You felt as if your heart was both being ripped into pieces and bursting at once.

“This is for you…I’m proud of you, my little mortal.”

“Loki-” you voiced.

He lifted a hand and flicked the wrist.

With the last bit of magic he had left, green smoke appeared around you. The horse whinnied as the smoke surrounded it too And you vanished from the scene.

The Green smoke surrounded your vision. Then at once it drifted away and you were far off into a snowy woods in Jotunheim. It was lined with fur trees full of beautiful snow around them like necklaces. Only some were normal trees where they settled on their branches in blankets. You heard the horse trotting around, brushing its lips and shaking its mane.

You felt light headed You were safe, alive. A far distance off.

Then a few uncontrollable tears began to stream down your face, feeling like they could turn to ice against your skin. You felt like there was a hole in your chest. But your senses were alerting you…the cabin was close. Wiping your nose with your sleeve, you took the reigns of the horse and you both walked forward. It wasn’t too long- only ten minutes of walking, despite the frigid wind paining your face…

And there it was. Sure enough, there was the cabin.

The door was unlocked. Already there was a blazing hearth in fireplace, a warm bed full of thick quilts, and a table full of food that was still fresh. Chopped wood for the hearth sat in a pile next to an iron pot to use for cooking. When you walked over to the hearth, you could tell, right in the fireplace was the orb glowing bright orange. The source of this light and comfort, though you were certain no one lived here.

You got out the pocket watch from your side… you knew you should alert them. You knew you had it. It was what he told you to do…but could not make it to twelve to give the signal.

Loki…Loki…it then hit you, the weight on you. What he did…for the mission. And for you.

He was armed. He could fight them. The training he had all of his life couldn’t have been for nothing. But he was outnumbered. But still…without magic and outnumbered! Perhaps killed already!

You couldn’t stand it. You couldn’t abandon him…and that was if he was still alive.

Despite your shaking, and your crying, your senses reached back. There was a mountain nearby. A familiar mountain…

And someone who would know if Loki still breathed.

You gathered a bundle of firewood and put them in your bag. Then you mounted the horse, both legs swinging off the saddle. Despite your nerves, your determination shot you forward. You were going to learn of Loki’s fate.

If he was dead, then you would go back to Asgard. It would be too risky to get his body. Tell the AllFather and AllMother of his last deed. So at least after his life, he would finally be seen as an equal, as a hero. And if he lived…you would do whatever you could to find him. Get him back.

You led the horse towards where you sensed the mountain and found the entrance. The place where the Jotun Prophet lived.

You rushed inside the cave. You down some of the wood and lit it with your fire. It crackled against the cave in echoes, its light illuminating the dark cave.

“Prophet! Prophet! Here’s my offering! Hurry! Please! It’s an emergency! I must speak with you- now!” you begged. Your voice echoed off into the infinity of black inside.

Sure enough, there were blue lights that glowed on the wall. And out walked the Jotun Prophet. Still with his proud, knowing smile.

“Oh, Mortal Lady, it’s you again…have you gained the wisdom to become engaged to an ugly priest this time? As you must have figured out by now, They don’t get half the attention from other women as the handsome ones do!”

You took a few steps forward. His red eyes remained calm and his smile remained gentle.

“This isn’t about any of that! It’s about Loki! He’s in danger! He could be hurt- or worse! Grendel’s soldiers ambushed us and he used the last of his magic to send me away! Please, Prophet, tell me one thing at least- is Loki still alive? Or are they going to kill him? Is this how he dies?”

The Jotun Prophet scratched his chin.

“Hmm, a god in distress...” he mused. He accepted the firewood. With some magic, it floated up in the air.

“They might have killed him by now- please! I’m begging you! Is Loki alive?”

The Jotun Prophet held up a hand as if to get you to calm down.

“They have abducted him. They’re tormenting him…but he is alive. There is nothing they love more than toying with their victims before they kill. But Loki is too valuable a prisoner for them to end his life just yet. They could use him to bribe the royal family of Asgard, hold him for the price of their domination of the kingdom or an alliance…so at least no killing yet. Even the most foolish of Grendel’s men know that.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, the dizziness washing down you. Your vision blurred from the high and then returned back. The Prophet wasn’t retreating- so you asked another question.

“Tell me where he is! Where have they taken him?” you pleaded.

“They are…southeast from here, a few leagues.”

The Prophet lifted a blue finger and pointed in that direction.

Once you journey down there, you will sense where they are clear as day. They are camped at the ends of another great mountain. You will see smoke- a fire they made there. There you may find Loki. There you may save him. What a lucky coincidence you found that cabin…just take him there after. Let him rest his injuries..”

New tears came down your face, tears of deep gratitude.

“Thank you…”

You began to turn to hurry off. But after a few steps, you heard The Prophet call out.

“Oh! Mortal Lady! One more thing!”

You turned right around, nearly skidding on your feet. He walked up to be closer to you, the firewood floating by his side.

“Brunhilde flowers,” the prophet said.

“Brunhilde flowers?” you repeated, tasting the words in your mouth.

“Named for the strength of the renowned Valkyrie. They grow in Jotunheim. You can find them growing outside the cabin. It will restore strength and even magic to anyone. The petals and bulb are very bitter to the taste but crushed up and steeped in boiled water, it makes a decent tea. To make it work faster, It should take two days and one cup of tea or one flower per day. Along with long hours of rest. If he exerts himself, it will slow the healing down. Then his magic will return in its entirety. So be patient,” the Prophet explained.

He began to turn and walk into the dark. But you took one step closer to where he walked.

“So all I do is find the flowers and give it to Loki?” you questioned.

The Prophet paused. Then he turned around, with a small, if not mischievous smile.

“That is, if you wish to complete your True Love’s healing.”

[taylorswiftandx]

Taylor Swift and War

Note: huge thank you to @meandmypagancrew who assembled the lyrics for this post! A quick reminder that these type of posts can be quite subjective and we have taken a pretty broad view, but please comment if you think something has been left out.

'Taylor Swift'

(no war)

'Fearless (Taylor's Version)'

Tell Me Why: I took a chance, I took a shot and you might think I’m bulletproof but I’m not

Change: It's a sad picture, the final blow hits you

Change: This revolution, the time will come

Change: We’ve been outnumbered, raided and now cornered

Change: It’s hard to fight when the fight ain’t fair

Change: Tonight we’ll stand, get off our knees, fight for what we’ve worked for all these years

Change: The battle was long, it’s the fight of our lives

Change: It’s a revolution, through your hands up

Mr. Perfectly Fine: So strategized, all the eyes on you

'Speak Now (Taylor’s Version)’'

Mean: You can take me down with just one single blow

Mean: You, with your switching sides and your wildfire lies and your humiliation

Innocent: I guess you really did it this time, left yourself in your warpath

Long Live: I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you 

Timeless: Even if we’d met on a crowded street in 1944, and you were heard off to fight in the war

Timeless: I would’ve read your love letters every single night and prayed to God you’d be coming home all right

'Red (Taylor's Version)'

State of Grace: You come around and the armor falls, pierce the room like a cannonball

Ronan: You fought it hard like an army guy

Better Man: Push my love away like it’s some kind of loaded gun

Nothing New: Shoot you down and then they sigh and say “She looks like she’s been through it”

All Too Well (10 Minute Version): I’m a soldier who’s returning half her weight

'1989 (Taylor’s Version)’

Bad Blood: Band-aids don’t fix bullet holes

I Know Places: They take their shots, but we’re bulletproof

Clean: Hung my head as I lost the war

You Are In Love: And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

Bad Blood (feat. Kendrick Lamar): Now POV of you and me, similar Iraq

Bad Blood (feat. Kendrick Lamar): It was my season for battle wounds, battle scars, body bumped, bruised

'reputation'

(no war)

'Lover'

The Archer: Combat, I’m ready for combat

You Need To Calm Down: You are somebody that I don’t know but you’re taking shots at me like it’s Patrón

You Need To Calm Down: You are somebody that we don’t know but you’re coming at my friends like a missile

'folklore'

Exile: You’re not my homeland anymore, so what am I defending now?

My Tears Ricochet: And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves

Mad Woman: My cannons all firing at your yacht

Epiphany: Keep your helmet, keep your life, son

Epiphany: Just a flesh wound, here’s your rifle

Epiphany: Crawling up the beaches now, “Sir, I think he’s bleeding out”

Epiphany: With you I serve, with you I fall down, down

Peace: And you know that I’d swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches

'evermore'

Tolerate It: I greet you with a battle hero’s welcome

Tolerate It: When did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt?

Long Story Short: Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles ‘til the battle picked me

Long Story Short: We live in peace, but if someone comes at us, this time, I’m ready

Evermore: Whether weather be the frost or the violence of the dog days

'Midnights'

Mastermind: Strategy sets the scene for the tale

The Great War: Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur

The Great War: All that bloodshed, crimson clover

The Great War: My hand was the one you reached for all throughout the Great War

The Great War: I vowed not to cry anymore if we survived the Great War

The Great War: You drew up some good faith treaties

The Great War: The bombs were closer

The Great War: I vowed not to fight anymore if we survived the Great War

The Great War: Soldier down on that icy ground

The Great War: Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

The Great War: There’s no morning glory, it was war, it wasn’t fair

The Great War: I vowed I would always be yours 'cause we survived the Great War

You’re Losing Me: All I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier

You’re Losing Me: Fighting in only your army, front lines, don’t your ignore me

Other Songs written by Taylor

Eyes Open: Yesterday, we were just children playing soldiers, just pretending

Eyes Open: In backyards, winning battles with our wooden swords

Renegade: You fire off missiles cause you hate yourself, but do you know you’re demolishing me?

Safe and Sound: The war outside our door keeps raging on

The Alcott: Everything that’s mine is a landmine

Official Alternate Releases

(no war)

[yukii0nna]

Marinette Cheng/ Ms. Frost Tropes

Action Fashionista: Makes her own clothes and superheroes disguises along with her brother.

Action Girl: Well yeah.

Berserk Button: Mess with her brother or little kids in general or ruin her clothes. Good luck...

Big Sister instinct: Brother aside, she loves babysitting and messing with her charge is a bad idea.

Brother -Sister Team: Yep

Cute Bruiser: One of her favorite designs is a Chinese lolita inspired dress and is cute in general. Still the girl who can make an arsenal in a minute and is never afraid to use it.

Cute Witch: Despite her rudeness, she is very sweet.

Dark and Troubled past: Her father died when she was little, her brother got nightmares, something nearly killed her and her mother got more distant. All when she was six. Thankfully it stopped after a while.

Deadpan Snarker: This is mostly to the crazier akumas and insanity in general.

Exposed to the elements: Downplayed; she has a habit of wearing normal summer clothes in Winter. No other layers; justified since her training gave her immunity to the cold.

Friendless background: Of her own accord for a while due to some issues.

An Ice Person: Uses Ice Make Magic.

Innocent Blue Eyes/ Icy Blue Eyes: Light blue eyes and depending on the context, yeah.

Glass Cannon: Get a good enough hit in, she'll be out for a while. Good luck actually getting one thing though.

Girly Girl with a Tomboy Streak: Loves pink, making clothes, baking and sweets in general and is willing to get dirty, loves videos games, has joined guild brawls without shame, and is the Tank of the team.

Named after someone famous: Downplayed but she was named after Marinette Augustine by her father who was a fan of her work before some unsavory discoveries. She and Sabine still wish someone veto that....

Nice Girl: Downplayed but she may be snarky and rude, she is always willing to help someone in need.

Only sane man: Is this to her brother but can be not so above it all.

Polar opposites twins: Careful, snarky Marinette to reckless, oblivious Jaden.

Short range guy- long range guy: with her brother.

Spontaneous Weapon Creation: She's an ice make wizard! Comes with the territory.

Sword and Sorcerer: Is the sword to Jaden's sorcerer.

@bakawitch @punkeropercyjackson @insomniac-jay @refrigeratedboombursts

[landure]

GEPARD APPLICATION: WRITING SAMPLE 1.3k wordcount

Belobog, last bastion of humanity, did not stand on its own. That larger than life fact is something every Silvermane Guard sworn to the Oath holds close to heart, closer than their fears, their love of hearth and safety, closer than the deaths that pile atop each other like firewood to be burned, than the ice and hail they mix with brave men’s blood and blood-tasting bravery.

And there’s so much of it - that brave men’s blood.

The naive soldier boys fresh out of Belobog Cadet School end up in only two ways; they die like cannon fodder in the first few seconds, swept up in their first expedition into the merciless Snow Plains, die beneath the shadows of the fortified walls in the Restricted Zone, or they harden to calcite and iron and ride above the storm. Gepard was one of those boys once, but more importantly he is a Landau through and through. Lions each and all, they have their own way of working through things, and that way has never stopped working for Gepard. Not yet.

…If you want to cry after your loss, Gepard, then cry.

But you need to stand back up even when you are crying.

Serval’s right. Always stand back up. Her big, little brother spits out the blood in his mouth and keeps going, his knuckles split inside the tight clenches of his gauntlet and the white glove on his opposite hand is abraded raw, but he ignores those too. It’s not the duty of the wall to give, but to divide; them from us; none of you will touch any of this, not on my life. On this shield. 

“Gunners forward! Stand clear of the Fragmentum volley and return fire on my signal! Halberdiers ready your charge!”

The Shadewalker banshees scream their shrill war cry, humans mouth grit in readiness. Geometric patterns tint the air in precursor, air chills on a monolith of frost made condensed, and behind his wall the gunners and halberdiers do exactly that. Gepard, their Captain, is strong in the sense that nature’s structures are strong, impenetrable and resistant, an unflagging mountain rising up from the earth sturdy and tall enough to divide it, on one side the Fragmentum, on the other his allies. On the average battlefield, they only lose one or two, on the worst, entire platoons or enough soldiers that they’ll be dissolved after the fighting is over. Ever since Gepard was made Captain it’s been the former more and more.

Well. For any effect that isn’t zero, he finds it hard to call that a strength.

❄

“The fortifications and logistics are complete. Good work today, Captain.”

“You too. I’ll take it over from here, Pela. Get some rest.”

He files his paperwork with Pela, gives the verbal report to Lady Bronya in curt, ready tones, gets home. It’s always the same after that.

Two feet in the door, shut door, turn lock, broad shoulders deflate. He lets out a hefty colossus of a breath fit for a whale, melting away all the day with it, pushing out all the exhausting impurities collected in enduring ice. The front lines are filthy business; he strips off the Geomarrow gauntlet, sets his boots aside for later shining, he tries to bathe. Tries. Out there contending with the worst of the Eternal Freeze, insulated clothing is an invaluable lifeline; in Gepard’s flat, it’s a sweaty death trap of annoyance.

Multiple layers of thick fur and starchy regalia may as well be densely packed strata, one great vampiric white-blue leech sucking on his blood slick skin like it can’t have enough. He tries once, twice, gives up with a bullish sound of frustration and merges face down with the couch. His arms and legs hang over the edges. It’s nearly too small for him to lay down on, but that’s never stopped the exhausted Captain from getting his shuteye, sleeping here more than his own bed for its proximity to the door.

Just like faithful Earthwork it’s never given up on old Geppie when it counts most.

The springs scream as he rolls over, he gives the pleated arm rest a tired pat like a dog, and stares thoughtlessly up at the lights. Do it later. Other levels of thinking can’t be applied to that though. The flower pots catch his eye guiltily in the corner. Most people check their flowers during the day, Gepard comes home late enough to see the flowers wilting. This marks the third time - maybe the flowers and horticulture, the softer, gentler cultivations, just aren’t for him.

❄

Gepard isn’t all that soft, not really.

He gets a lot of flack for that outside the hours his hardness is made for. Serval says that he could stand to be softer spoken, especially with Lynx, but he doesn’t really know how. Where does a soldier begin? An iron wall doesn’t stop being iron on account of a playful scolding that he can't be velvet, and doesn’t find it easy either. 

The soldier Gepard only gives the straight answers, walks the straight path. Little Belobogian boys ask how they can be like strong Captain Gepard and he tells them what he knows, honestly, without frills: train hard and drink milk. With the older ones he’s a little harsher.

Another servant of Belobog might say try your best, study hard and pursue your military education to its last legs, someday you’ll be just like me. Gepard, stern and unchanging, tells them not to join unless they’re prepared to give their lives. It’s smart word, hard word, but in that equally selfish. A proper protector of the peace enjoys the bright faces he comes home to, doesn’t want to see those same faces pale and frozen cold beneath the winding sheet tarps.

Gepard will be remembered a hero, a stark pillar of the Silvermanes, their iron wall through hard time and harder time again. As he patrols the streets he sees a group of loping, gangling youths and one of the girls makes him think of Lynx. Pela, to a degree. Soldiers as young as her aren’t rare anymore. They’ll continue to be common with the soldiers that die each and every day to Fragmentum invasions.

“You’ll go no further. I’m Belobog’s indestructible shield!”

“Years of cold hardens the will!”

Their wooden sticks and shields smash against each other, playing out a familiar scene. Gepard watches for a moment longer, arms behind his back and smart black boots clicked together by the heels, not soft enough to smile, not ignorant enough to see it as flattery.

❄

No one tells Gepard anything. Not that he’s a bad artist, not that he snores louder than anyone when he dozes off in the company office with newspaper fanned over his eyes, or that his face takes on a scary looking scowl the closer they get to confrontation with the Fragmentum forces. Some of the Silvermane don’t even need a clock, they get ready by the hour and minute hands of their Captain’s expression.

Some things never change.

Following the advent of two nearly world-ending calamities named Stellaron and IPC, a scowling wall of iron stands with his forces. It’s warmer here in the Underworld, something about being closer to hell, likelier to do with the great prevalence of Geomarrow mining operations, but there’s still a trace of frost. And Gepard on the orders of the new Supreme Guardian, Lady Bronya, will root it out.

The cold prelude of Fragmentum invasion nips at his cheeks but he’s long since learned to ignore it. He’s not a child anymore, he’s said to Serval countlessly, and Gepard isn’t a yellow-bellied private either floating in a lack of purpose like the naive soldier boy who dies first. A wall faces forward, doesn’t question what it protects, because instability is the bane of all upstanding defense, because doubt a disobedient and ineffectual soldier makes.

Gepard can’t deny what he's been taught, that the Architects are the best of Belobog’s interests manifest, he can even lesser deny what keeps him alive. He isn’t made to be soft, he’s made to be iron, and for all that that’s needed—that he’s needed—he wouldn’t change a thing. 

“Gunners forward! Stand clear of the Fragmentum volley and return fire on my signal!”

[one-of-many-journeys]

Day 24

Dervahl’s Camp

Set off at dawn and picked myself up another mount from a nearby Charger herd. I left the other one outside Pitchcliff, too far to call. I wish I could get my Focus to call it over somehow by connecting to the machinery left by the override module. Maybe I can figure something out. 

I explored the area to the north a little, but was spotted by a Stormbird circling overhead. I used the opportunity to try overriding it. It took a long time for the module to work through the huge machine, but soon the Stormbird was glowing blue and utterly docile. Having the opportunity to watch it up close without fear of attack was amazing.

I rode back south to Pitchcliff to find the settlement under attack by a flock of Glinthawks. I joined the residents and guards to take them out, tying them down to strike or piercing their chillwater cores to douse them in frost. Apparently they’d been attacking all throughout the night, exhausting the village. I went to the mayor of Pitchcliff, its leader, to ask about the attack.

He was convinced that a Carja was behind it, using the opportunity to complain at length about dealing with them, but he had no proof. I was a little put out when I discovered a Carja really was behind it, but not intentionally. His name was Shahavad, and I found him fiddling with a machine lure, unable to turn it off. It had no simple switch like the lure back at Daradi’s estate, so I stuck a spear through it instead. Worked just as well. 

Shahavad assured me he had no intention of calling the Glinthawks, but had just happened upon the lure at an Oseram encampment in the north eastern mountains, some way from a makeshift camp of his own. There was a passage there, but an avalanche had destroyed it. From his account and the data on my Focus, seems a Stormbird was the likely culprit. I prepared for that possibility. I was inclined to believe Shahavad too—he seemed a bit clueless, air-headed, and very fond of his own voice, but not malicious. I agreed to track down the source of the lures since it sounded like more of Dervahl’s work to me. I elected not to inform the mayor Ralert of what I’d found. I had a feeling he wouldn’t believe Shahavad’s innocence. 

I rode across the valley to the start of the mountain climb, trekking past the camp then forging a perilous climbing route through a frozen ravine. At its height, I took out the Longlegs, Bellowback, and Watchers roaming the area, following signs of human construction and the pulse of the lures. 

It was more than a camp, there were permanent structures of Oseram make. I could have probably snuck around and disabled the lures. The Stormbird wouldn’t have had cause to stay around after that; could have overridden it too, but I went for the kill instead.

Second Stormbird down, and this time I was prepared. Tearblasted the casing on its storm cannon, tied it down, two blaze explosions from its canisters, one after the other, staggering it flaming in the snow. Then for the cannon; hard points crammed onto my bowstring three at a time to pierce its core. No more shock blasts. Tied it down, then the chillwater canisters, loosing more hardpoints in its eyes, wings and underbelly. Down in no time, just as the snow storm cleared.

Destroyed the lures and found a message left by the camp’s owner. It was Dervahl after all, and he’d left the lures here in an attempt to ward off reconnaissance from Marad’s men in Pitchcliff. They must have been closing in on all his camps. Could even be more of them in the area. 

I headed back down the mountain and to Pitchcliff as night was falling to give Ralert the good news, leaving Shahavad out of the story. Got his thanks and rich rewards. I’m making good impressions everywhere. Should come in handy if my seeking ever takes me further north into the Claim.

I spent the night in Pitchcliff, getting to know the locals and learning more about life in the Claim. Set down to rest soon after. The more I think about it…I should go back to Meridian before returning east. Who knows where the trail will take me after the Grave Hoard. I know the Cut is just north of the ruin as well. All that talk of spirits and demons and corruption, knowing what I do now of Hades…it makes Banuk lands seem even more interesting. And there’s Sylens to consider. I can’t trust him.

Hey, you reading this? Of course you are. 

[lottiesnotebook]

🍂 For the Rook ask game?

Thank you for the ask from the Rook Ask Game! <3 Hope you're having a good weekend, and ready for more Cara Angst (apparently it's the night for it).

(Already answered: 🌼, 🪷, 🌾,🥀,💐)

🍂 What was it like the first time Rook killed someone? How did they react afterwards?

Her first battle passes in a roar of sound and fury so overwhelming that she barely remembers it. She can remember raising barriers, throwing out strategic waves of frost and lightning to knock attackers back, but she can't thread the events together from the first blast of the other ship's cannons to the moment the deck falls quiet and they realise they've won. Not just won, but taken the other ship, and whatever cargo it carries is theirs now, to sell off at the next port. It's the first time Cara's been close enough to take part in the fighting, to claim a share of the plunder. The cheer goes up around her, and she's usually the first to join in, to break open the rum rations or start the music going as they triage the injured and let the adrenaline of a fight well won flow through her. She's not cheering now. She can't cheer now. She can hardly move, barely see what's going on around her. In front of her, on the deck, there lies a boy a little younger than her - seventeen or eighteen, perhaps. A kid, only marked out as an enemy by the fact she doesn't recognise him. By the branching burns of lightning that still smoke on his skin. His eyes are open, wide and startled and blue as the sea, and she stumbles over as if in a dream, because she can't have- she didn't- He isn't breathing. His heart isn't beating. His eyes stare up at her without even a hint of anger, only thunderstruck confusion at a death that came in less than an instant. A death that came at her hand. She killed him. She killed someone- She doesn't know how long she spends vomiting over the side of the ship. She doesn't even realise she's not being subtle until she feels a hand on her shoulder, and Isabela presses a waterskin into her shaking hands. "Chin up, Rook," she says, almost gently. "It takes us all like that the first time." "Even you?" she croaks, when she can form words. Isabela's lips twitch at that. "I'm always an exception to the rule." She squeezes her shoulder again, steers her towards the cluster of the injured and stunned that the ship's doctor is triaging. As they pass by the boy's body again, Cara can't look away. He's so young. He's so dead. "It could be worse," Isabela says softly, and when she looks up, her aunt is grinning like a shark. "At least you weren't married to him."

[princess-of-the-corner]

Uncertain thought (could be Amnesia!Dabi, or just in general) - So, like, AfO has Toya for a while, right? & he experiments, or whatever? I saw a lot of fics where something similar happens, & Toya gets fireproofing, which felt. Idk if cheap is the right word, by I liked the idea that AfO tries to "improve" him or something, so what if he slapped Dabi with a self-healing quirk? Like, Dabi's Quirk still hurts him, but he heals faster & better from the damage, scars less, sort of thing?

YES OKAY SO ABOUT THAT

Because I did give Dabi an extra Quirk in CC and that stays throughout CC-adjacent stories like Amnesia!Dabi and all.

I've brought this up before on the 'why didn't he add shit to Dabi?' and the 'are you sure he didn't?' and then musing on why Kurogiri is different from all the other Nomu and went on a tangent so like

AfO knows that, practically speaking, shoving more Quirks into a person is difficult. Most people are really only designed to have their own Quirk. Maybe two. Shoving more in can be problematic.

So he often doesn't unless there's other factors. Like 'oh hey we're gearing up for a whole ass War, let me shove some more abilities into a few of the sacrificial pawns because idc if it overloads them'. The Nomu are an exception because they're frankensteined nonsense shoved all together and not really 'people' in the original sense anymore and are on the whole just cannon fodder rather than players in the game so he doesn't care if they get overloaded.

And if Dabi were anyone else, it wouldn't matter. But he's /Toya/. And that's what AfO wants. Because everything about Toya becoming Dabi would be a blow to the Heroes and everything they stand for. So he can't really just shove Toya's useful Quirk into a Nomu or risk overloading him with other Quirks.

Which brings us back to Kurogiri!

Kurogiri was part of a project regarding Quirk Awakenings. Seeing if they can force Awakenings by putting the body under simulated stresses. In Kurogiri's case, Oboro's Cloud evolved to protect him and to let him escape dangers via teleportation, creating Warp Gate. (the amnesia was just a fun side effect of the trauma and near-death, not part of the experiment).

As putting the body under that much simulated stress is dangerous, even fatal, Kurogiri was the only successful one out of the batch, and the experiment was mostly scrapped for the time being.

Now when AfO got his hands on Toya, he did think to add things to him, but didn't want to risk losing the gutpunch of /Toya/ being a villain. So he brought back the Awakening experiment, making sure to only push a little instead of a 'how far can we take this?'. Especially as Toya had already had one Awakening already (the whole red-to-blue fire).

He was hoping to do something like pull out the proper Ice/Fire combo, or even just give Toya fireproofing. But Hellflame and Heaven's Frost aren't the only Quirks in the genepool to pull from. So the next Awakening instead pulled out "Demon", which was Enji's father's Quirk, so Dabi now has horns and a tail.

[littlehungrywarriorcats]

Now for the tree of my favorite boy: Frostwind!

We also have the return of random cats made specifically to fill in the necessary genetic gaps. Because Julien and Cyrus Borg don't have cannon partners. Granted, the characters their children are based off are all robots, so a mother wasn't really necessary until I made them into non-robotic cats.

I decided I really liked the idea of Julien being a point like Frostwind, so he's a chocolate mackerel lynx point. He's carrying a d and a l to give to Frostwind so he can be dilute and longhair respectively.

For fun, I made the random cat Julien's paired with a mink, even though neither Frostwind or Echobreeze are mink. She and Cyrus Borg's random mate are torties purely to add some ginger to the tree. It was very blue prior to adding Frostwind and Pixalriver's parents and Frostwind's brother.

Both Frostwind and Echobreeze are long-haired mackerel lynx points, with Echobreeze also having a bit of white from mom.

Pixalriver's parents aren't that interesting appearance-wise, being a solid black tux and a classic cinnamon torbie tux, both on the low white end. Underneath, however, both are carrying dilution in order for Pixal to be blue, Cyrus Borg has heterozygous ticked under his solid, giving Pixal his Ta so she can express the ticking, and Pixal's mother is carrying the allele for siamese under her fullcolor to give Pixal to give her two siamese sons, same process with longhair for Pixal's three non-point children.

The children aren't really too interesting, all being blue tabbies with various low white. Shardwatcher and Minidroidrumble are, sadly, gone, only really on this tree because of their names and the fact Shard was one of two points Frost and Pixal had(technically 3, but Silverkit died as a baby and wouldn't have made it onto this tree over their other not included siblings anyway) before Pixal died. Jewelshadow and Dawnswirl have their own kits by the time I'm writing this, so I'll be sending their branches separately once they're finished.

Thank you for listening to my rambling. There's one more tree before I go to the newest branches that didn't really fit into the tree, or didn't exist at the point of making the tree. Hope you enjoy!

oh man i get so excited when i see one of these in my inbox - much less to be graced with TWO!!

Thank you as always for sending me these <333

and also Cyrus Borg is a badass name

[dragonprincedrake]

I would’ve posted this earlier with more detail, but I kept get frustrated with the layout of things so I just decided on a blank ref sheet. Then write about details in this post.

Icewings are definitely the glass cannons of the wings of fire world, plenty of offensive traits, sharp horns (look like antlers but act like normal horns), serrated claws, frost breath, and sharp spikes along their tail. Horns normally come in shades of grey/silver, grey blue, and light ice blue.

Their scales come in shades of white, grey/silver, light blue, light purple, and light green, usually the coloring is subtle and have smaller scales that glint in sunlight making them look like they’re covered with frost. A healthy Icewing is cold to the touch.

Icewings have sharp eyesight sensitive to movement, and an even better sense of smell. They can see pretty well at night (not as good as a nightwing’s) and only need at least one of the moons to be out to see clearly. The sclera of their eyes are always a very dark grey or black with the iris usually shades of blue, green, grey, purple, and in rare instances be brown. Pupils can be slits or round, depending on the amount of light.

Royal icewings can still hatch as an animus, it’s just much more rare then it ever was in the past. The last animus Icewing died early on in the Sandwing War and haven’t had another hatch since.

Also shoutout to @one-mopeyboi , they helped out with coming up with ideas for the au

Below is an example of what the average Icewing might look like (in my au)

(I might change stuff later on, but this how icewings will appear like in my au. Might do a separate post about the different mutations can can occur in each tribe).