#but for now I need the moko to keep on the will to live and thus!!! I'm going to a little pond to be a big fish!

[optimusxmello]

My lack of self control means I just keep adding WIPs to my ao3 account because I keep getting ideas and there's no one to stop me.

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

The article was posted on 2 November, he’s a bit late ⏰

He hasn’t learned that talking too much is unnecessary; I suppose enjoying many cocktails during this interview interfered with his coherence. He prefers to be seen for the work he does, rather than how he looks. How can it be different? In real life, the initial thought that attracts him is his looks, instead of showing what he does in his acting career or trying to educate himself. For him, his appearance catches the spotlight and adulation of his fans and becomes his first target. He knows how to take off his shirt, seeking attention, like the peacock that spreads its feathers, revealing a touch of insecurity that he fills with physical training.

He keeps returning to fairy tales because it is a way of hiding his childhood he has not completed to reach adulthood. Likewise, he has a fantasy world, a house in Glasgow, Los Angeles and now thinking about living in New York to satisfy what the interviewer needs to hear (He’ll change the place and he will repeat the same thing). He likes to achieve the narrow goal. Not only that, but he doesn’t know what he wants or needs. He can’t stop looking outside for a place, an item or whatever to fill an emotional void when nowhere does he feel at home.🤷‍♀️

He said he learned about tā moku, the art of Māori tattooing, and wants to return to New Zealand and get the tattoo next time. But it seems he didn’t learn too much. Although technically it is only Māori who can perform or receive tā moko. The tā moko artist must had the Māori blessing to make tā moko for people, not Māori who in turn had the local iwi’s blessing. This involves living in the culture and absorbing the Māori knowledge and beliefs. You do not receive this while on holiday on a 3-month visa or a week-long trip to Rotorua in New Zealand 🇳🇿 So, SH would be willing to accept and respect Maori demands because he has not set a good example by accepting the rules in the UK or he makes use of it according to his needs.

[hornyblogofhelen]

I'm here again, but this time you can expect a "glass drama" from me, or I don't know what else to call it… However, my whole throw-in is that I need to write something about mocfith's (again, a reminder of the name of this peyringe), if I don't write it, I'll just forget about it.

So:

What Was Behind the Scenes episode 5 of season 3 (this is just my headcanon, if anything). Thriffith, during his next wanderings with Goodsword, feels unbearably tired and mentally exhausted. Goodsword doesn't seem to shut up for a second, he keeps talking about the "mistakes" his swordsman made in the battle.

"- You lunged with the wrong foot! Why don't you watch out for that! Also, is it just me, or is your dodginess starting to go limp? You've gone all loose!!!" - said the magic sword.

Thriffith was annoyed by his boring tone of voice. He was all proud and arrogant and obnoxious. He remained silent, however, even though his face expressed displeasure. He wanted very much to let his talking opponent know that he should be looking for lodging now, not his problems. Not even that, he wanted to say something along the lines of, "Don't you have your own personal problems to discuss mine? Or are you so tight-lipped that you can't switch to something else, like discussing different surfaces, of which something is easier or harder to chop???"

But Thriffith only responded with a passive, "Yes, I know…"

After a while they came upon an outlaw tent with El Moco sitting by the fire. Thriffith was very reassured by this state of affairs. It's not a bad thing when you find a fellow traveler who still has an untouchable supply of shelter and, perhaps, food and water. That was not the case with Goodsword, who was clearly not thrilled.

Thriffith: Oh, that's the same King of Thieves who maintains the thief's market. We're very lucky to have met him! GS: I don't think so. Thriffith: Why? GS: He is the KING OF THIEVES. He's a CRIMINAL. Do you really want to communicate with him? With that rough, dirty ragamuffin?! I wouldn't do that if I were you! Thriffith, frowning: Just so you know, he's got a tent and food, and that's a lot better than sleeping on a cold stone ledge and swallowing dust from the road. And anyway, even bad guys can be great conversationalists. GS: Okay, maybe you're right, maybe I can agree with the first part of your sentence, but other than that, I'll stick to my point. Thriffith, dry: Whatever you say.

Of course, El Moco was very surprised at first and pointed his saber at the uninvited guests (he's always on guard, even though sometimes he doesn't need it). The magic sword didn't like it, and he was outraged:

GS: Thriffith, I told you this was a bad idea! Thriffith: Shut up! El Moco, realizing that he was facing an associate, not an enemy, and grinning: So you are the same Thriffith that all my minions are discussing? GS, coughing unhappily: K-hem! Why, just him? He has his magic sword - that's me - also! El Moco: A talking weapon? This is the first time I've ever seen one! But I'm not talking to you, though.

The sword was shocked by this, but Thriffith was very amused and pleased. The man was sorely lacking in attention. Certainly when you have a talking weapon, it's interesting to everyone and many people are happy with it, but then they forget about the person who owns it. They think of him later. But that's not the case with this outlaw, and Thriffith was simply delighted.

After a while, Thriffith and El Moko began to have a lively conversation about their lives and what they would like to do in the future. Moreover, they noticed that they have a lot in common, such as a point of view on certain things, actions, and even a love of flamenco (given that El Moco has Spanish-Mexican roots, he clearly trades in this, but does not tell anyone). Goodsword was very jealous. He wanted people to pay attention to him and talk about his favorite things, which were completely out of place. Thriffith tried to ignore him, and in general he would rather have the company of a robber than an upstart sword. But, alas, he was reluctant to compromise, which surprised the Robber King. El Moko noticed with what tension and hostility the swordsman sometimes responded to his weapon, so sometimes the robber himself had to stop them to continue the conversation with the former killer. Thriffith was eternally grateful to him for this.

Soon, when it began to get dark, all three put out the fire and went into the tent. Thriffith continued to talk to the robber, but Goodsword interrupted them.

" - You look so much like lovebirds! You can even kiss. Just don't invite me to your wedding, I'm obviously going to be sick at it. " - insulted the magic sword of both, although for the most part it was directed at the owner, who noticed it.

El Moco didn't like it very much, and Thriffith got angry, but didn't show it. He only asked Goodsword, with dislike in his voice, what he wanted to say. The magic sword told these two everything he was thinking about: about his superiority, that he did not like their communication, that El Moco had a bad effect on Thriffith, and in addition, it would be nice for him to remember stories with heroes and swords.

Thriffith: Did you say everything? GS: Yes. Thriffith: Beautiful. GS: And now, with your permission, I'm going to bed. Thriffith: Go. Good night. GS: Good night.

After the magic sword fell asleep, ceasing to glow, the former killer finally exhaled and sat down on the edge of the mattress. El Moco sat down next to him.

El Moco: It really surprises me how toxic your weapon is towards you. I think this is wrong Thriffith: I really don't like it myself… El Moco: Why don't you leave him or discuss it with him? Thriffith: It's useless. He won't listen to me. And leave him… he will be very offended.

At this point, Thriffith checked whether the sword was really sleeping. He raised his voice, but weapon didn't react. And the man was very encouraged.

El Moco: It's like you're afraid of him. Thriffith: Partly yes… El Moco: I can understand you. My mother has exactly the same character. And she was always unhappy with me. And she called me a loser… Thriffith: Oh, that's very sad… She shouldn't have done this to you. El Moco: I agree, but, oddly enough, she insulted and shouted at me every day. Eventually I got so tired of her that I left home. And it became much easier for me. I met people, I began to lead a criminal lifestyle and look at what heights I have achieved! I have gained authority, I have my own market and even a huge number of employees who respect me. Some, however, sometimes "undermine" my trust, but then they realize this and correct themselves. And for someone, I have replaced my father's figure altogether, which pleases me. Thriffith: You have such an interesting life! I 'm even a little jealous … El Moco: I'm sure you'll achieve that too. What is it, you have already achieved! You are respected among criminals, and someone even trembles when saying your name! What is not a reason for joy? Thriffith: Ha-ha, that's right, but… I prefer not to think about it… El Moco: Is that eating you up? Thriffith: I'm a little embarrassed to burden you with my story… El Moco: Oh, please, you don't burden me at all! On the contrary, I'm interested in talking to you. You didn't just switch to a normal life, right? You can tell me everything. I can see that it's hard for you. You need to talk it out. Thriffith: That's so nice to hear… Well… the thing is, in part, Goodsword replaced my parents. I listened to his advice and did everything he said. He taught me the art of sword fighting and, in principle, initiated the fighters into the matter, and told me a lot of interesting things. But as I got older, I stopped liking it. No, not in the sense that I don't want to be a fighter, I still want to be one, but I don't want to be called a "hero". It's very boring. I wanted to learn something new, try something new. One day, with the help of Goodsword, I made a barbecue, which he was very unhappy with and yelled at me. And when I became interested in flamenco, he didn't like it either. He simply forbade me to deal with these things. And I believed him… but soon I wanted to develop my own fighting style, and I began to actively change the trajectory of my movements. El Moco: And your weapon didn't like it again, am I right? Thriffith: Yes! He was so enraged that he scolded me and insulted me. He called me an "empty-headed idiot," an "incompetent bastard."… Whatever he called me. I was so hurt and hurt… After that time, I had a nightmare in which Goodsword cuts me in half and pierces me through. I woke up in a cold sweat and couldn't sleep for fear. I shed a lot of tears that night. I had such a strong tantrum that my sword itself woke up. I didn't tell him about the contents of the nightmare, but just told him that its scared me. Goodsword calmed me down and said that everything would be fine, but deep down I suspected that this was not the case, and everything would change from that day on. I somehow came to my senses and went to bed almost in the morning. But even then, Goodsword wouldn't let me sleep in the morning and squeezed all the strength out of me all day. Because of this, I started having trouble sleeping and I became more tired. El Moco: Damn, that's bad… Thriffith: This went on for a very long time… Insults, reproaches, nightmares… I was very tired and wanted to tell him everything I thought about him, but I didn't do it. And one day he and I came across an old temple where the Scimitar was serving his imprisonment... Goodsword had warned me not to touch him, but I didn't care so much about him at that moment. I acted against him: I decided to take the Scimitar and told him that I wanted to take it and fence with it a little. Besides, this saber looked immensely cool! El Moco, grinning: I can only imagine how excited you were about the new weapon.

[dinrelsanddragons]

So the full list of Blackscales in Lambda's time as a teenager is thus:

Raithyon – Clan leader. Father of Lambda and Reownha, called "Pops." Sekkala – Staff officer. Aunt of Lambda and Reownha, called "Auntie." Furrele – Priest and healer. Noticed the spark of sorcery in Lambda and has taught her how to use that magic to heal. Cedric – Tank (armor master) and combat instructor. Knows some of Hyrule's military tactics. Madre – Driver and escape expert; only other remaining Blackscale who remembers Sableflame; Mother of Bran, and eventually his sisters Harana and Nuthra. Riakshin: Blackmailer and investigator. Son of a now deceased escapee of Sableflame. Moko: Scout and ambusher. Son of an escapee of Sableflame who still lives in Rito Village with his wife, incognito. Eventually, father of Vrondiss. Nethir: Infiltrator and smooth-talker. Sometime law nerd. Handy with performance and magic, but not so much as Quespa. Nethox: Tinkerer and weapons expert. Adopted into the Blackscales after he was framed for a crime he didn't commit. Eventually, father of Mozikth. Horzai: Assassination expert. Adopted into the clan to gain their protection (strength in numbers, after all) after she racked up quite a bounty on her head. Lambda: Raithyon's daughter. Magical assistance and Raithyon's successor in training. Eventually, mother of Mu. Reownha: Raithyon's daughter. Pickpocket and staff officer in training. Eventually, mother of Direcris. Quespa: Magic expert, the Blackscales' problem solver for most issues arcane. Lambda's instructor in magic, though her magic knowledge doesn't translate so well. Akra: Additional muscle, often ends up taking the hardest hits (and dishing it back out). Heskran: Tracker and survivalist. Works best with Moko. –Noncombatants. Spouses and children– Pyxrin: Noncombatant and Raithyon's wife. A well-off Shiekah from a town in Akkala. Rezena: Noncombatant and Madre's wife, a Shiekah. Often disappears from the Blackscales' camp, but always comes back safe with extra supplies, and has kept their secrets faithfully. Gargax: Noncombatant and Riakshin's husband, a Hylian. Keeps a safehouse for the Blackscales to crash in on occasion. Bran: Noncombatant. A child born to Madre recently. Seems to be part Hylian with his black hair and brown eyes, though no one knows who his father is, as he was conceived at a brothel.

Second generation, when Lambda is grown up:

Lambda: Clan leader. Wields powerful divine magic. Reownha: Staff officer. Intelligent and quick, often acquires extra rupees by picking pockets. Bran: Cleanup crew (Evidence removal). Madre's first/eldest. Harana: Scout and eagle's eye. Madre's second/middle child. Nuthra: Driver, escape expert. Madre's third/youngest. Vrondiss: Cleanup crew (witness killer). Moko's son. Mozikth: Weapons expert/tinkerer. Nethox's son. Direcris: Staff officer and mastermind in training. Reownha's son. Mu: Healer and magical expert. Lambda's daughter. Rathkran: Bard and charlatan taken in by the Blackscales when he had a bounty on his head for ripping people off; Reownha's husband. (There's also Lambda's husband but I think he needs redone (again) tbh. We will see.)

Not listing Bran's kids (Fennec and Felicity) cause he never wanted them to join the clan, also I don't have third generation Blackscales. Shrug.

As for what happens to the first generation (Raithyon's): I imagine they were able to retire safely in some corner of Hyrule, building a little settlement. It is their goal to settle down and build a new home, after all. Lambda and Reownha keep the criminal clan going because it's what they're good at, and sometimes you gotta steal from assholes who have too much. Like nobles. Either that or they mostly die some years after the calamity. Idk.

[aliceaddellheidde]

His Celtic girl

A/N: This one is for @youbloodymadgenius 1K celebration. It´s first time I´m doing something like that. I lost my grandfather and bunny while writing so I´m sorry if it sucks.

Prompts in bold.

WORDS: 4869

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, smut & violence (graphic), blood, swearing, death

PAIRING: Ivar x OC (Moko)

DISCLAIMERS: I tried to be historically accurate as much as possible. I don’t hate Christians. English isn´t my first language.

Moodboard by me; pics from internet.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Moko from Mokosh – Slavic goddess of fertility & water.

Ivar awakes from his long sleep. His head is hurting like Thor hit him with his hammer. He remembers fighting. Saxon's soldier with dagger. Hvitserk in tears. Grey sky. And then dark.

When he opens his eyes he sees wooden ceiling and small window on his left. „You are finally up.” says voice from his right with foreign accent and when he turns his head that way he sees young woman sitting on a chair by fire, mixing something in kettle. He tries to sit but agonizing pain stops him. „If I was you I wouldn't move. I bet your body still hurts.” It does but he will not tell it to that girl. With clenched teeth he pushes himself up, leaning against wall. „Who … ?” he tries to say - his throat dry, voice raspy. „Who are you?” he asks after few moments. „Moko.” She smiles a little, handing him cup. He watches it suspiciously before he takes it and drinks small gulps. „You have weird name.” he snorts. „Says nameless man whose I found on battle field almost dead. With no one around. Forgotten.” „I'm the king of the world! You stupid bitch knows      nothing!” he screams, throwing cup her way, his calmness turning into anger in mere seconds. „Don’t look like king to me.” she shrugs and turns to kettle again. He´s fuming, looking for something to throw at her. All he finds is fur over his legs. Fuck. Did she see them? „Why am I here anyway? You said I was dead. How I could be when I'm here, hm?” he asks with scorn. She said nothing. „Answer me! Where am I? Where is my brother!” He punches wooden bed under him. „I don’t know. My dog found you and I took you to my home. Now I think it was a mistake.” She was standing with hands on her hips. „I don’t need your help! I can take care of myself!” „Go then! I don’t give damn if you do!” she screams, stepping closer to him. He sees red. „At least I will not have to take care of crippled idiot!” He throws himself onto her but she just swiftly moves away from him, hand on sword. He almost screams from pain as his body hit the floor. Yet he stops    himself, spitting blood her way. Then he finally looks at her properly.

She is short, long dark hair falling to her waist, dressed in light yellow dress with golden armoured corset, belt around hips with few small pouches and sword scabbard. Her widen eyes watching him like falcon. He moves again and she unsheathes her weapon. ,,You are not gonna kill me.” he smirks. ,,No, but I can still hurt you.” They are watching each other for few more minutes before she puts sword away, takes cloth from table and cautiously sits next to him on the floor. He flinches when her hand moves to his face to wipe blood away. „Look, I took you here to take care of you. Once you are healed, you can leave. But until then it's better for you to stay with me.” She smiles when he lowers his head to avoid her gaze. ,,Ivar.” he whispers. ,,I'm sorry?” „My name is Ivar.” ,,You have weird name.” He only chuckled. ,,How about you take bath and I finish food? Then we can talk.” He looks at his useless legs and back at her. ,,Oh, I will give you some privacy.” She turns away with flushed face but he stops her. ,,Wait. I ... I need your help.” He already hates idea of her touching him or seeing him naked but he has no other choice. ,,So now you need my help?” she teases. ,,Shut up.”

She goes for water while he is looking around her home. There is big fire pit in the middle of room, on right side of room is wooden table with different knives, daggers, food, plates, bowls and cups. Next to it is longer lower table with wooden benches and flowers on it. On left side is his bed and then hutch with different herbs, flowers, books and bottles. Ivar never saw material like that.

„It´s glastos. Or how they call it here in Anglia – glass.” says Moko when she comes back with two buckets of water. „We are still in Wessex?” „Sussex. But I always wanted to travel around the world. Meet new people and try new things.” „So are you Christian then?” „Oh Gods, no!” she laughs. „You are not Viking either. Then what are you?” He watches her as she is moving around house. She takes few herbs and puts them into tub and then fills it with boiling water. „I'm from old Celtic tribe called Anartes. We lived in Europe. But one day my family decided that we should move and so we did. I lived here with my parents and brother. But they are all dead. And now it´s my purpose to keep our legacy alive. And what about you Ivar?” „I'm Viking.” „Rus´ Viking?” „No. I´m from Norway. How do you know about the Rus?” „My people had deals with them. We   exchanged animals, food and other stuff.” „Have you ever been in Kiev or Novgorod?” „No. But my father was there once.” „They are Christians now.” „Poor people. How do you know them?” „I had to r… . I travelled there with my friend. But then my brother came for me to fight king Alfred. We had some unfinished business.” „You were talking about you brothers in your dreams. Asking one of them for forgiveness. His name is Hvitserk. Am I right?” Ivar is quiet. „I don’t know what happened to him. Maybe they imprisoned him or he died.” „My brother is not dead!” he screams and she jumps a bit. „You don’t know that.” „I have to save him. Like he saved me.” „You are so stubborn! When I found you I thought you were dead but you were breathing still. I took care of you for three bloody days and you are still wounded. Yet you want to go to Winchester and be hero for your brother?” she wasn't screaming but she was angry. „That´s exactly what I want to do.” he half-smiled. „And how? You don’t have an army. You will never break through their defence.” His upper lip twitches in indignation because she is right. „I can´t leave him there. What would you do if it was your brother?” „Saved him.” „See?” „But not if I was hurt and with no warriors.” „Then we will find some.” „Ivar, these people are Christians and they love Alfred because he won over The great heathen army. They will never defraud him.” „We will see about it.” „In few days I´m  going to Chichester. I can ask if someone knows what happened to survived Vikings.” „I'll go with you.” She sighted and checked water temperature. „I have few conditions if you want to go with me.” Ivar rolls his eyes. „What do you want from me?” „You will sit on your arse and will not try to investigate on your own or try to kill anybody. Deal?” „Deal.” „Great. Now come and have a bath.”

„Earlier you said I´m crippled idiot. How did you know?” Ivar asks while he takes his tunic off. „Well, I had to take your braces off of your legs and I saw them.” He frowns at her. „Help me with trousers. But keep your eyes on my face.” he growls. „Is there a problem I saw them?” she asks as her small hands untie strand from around his hips. „They are hideous.” „I don’t really care about it.” Her brown-green eyes bore into his blue ones. „What do you care about then?” „If I and my animals will be healthy and if we will have enough food, water and home. And overall if I will have long, happy life.” „That´s so deep.” Ivar rolls his eyes. „Stop mocking me. I like simple life.” She helps him into tub, avoiding looking at him, gives him cloth and walk back to kettle. „Have you ever been with a man?” he asks suddenly. „Why?” „You are shy. Can´t even look at me when I´m naked. So I assumes you are still virgin.” he has wicked smile on his face. „That´s not something you need to know.” „Hm, maybe.” he smirks. „I also want to know what is all that.” He points on herbal hutch. „That´s my work. I´m making potions, herbal remedies and different things from it for other people.” „Clever girl.” „Yes, I´m.” She straightens her back and he laughs at her. „What did you put in bath?” „Lavender. You can make oil from it and eat it.” Ivar thoughtfully takes herb from water and bits a small bite. And second later she smacks his head. „Not from that dirty water! That´s    disgusting.” „I don’t like the taste anyway.” he frowns. „You didn’t try my lavender cake.” „I need proper food. Meat. Not some stupid cakes.” „It´s almost ready. Better wash your hair and come  eat.” When he goes out of the tub she hands him clean towel and clothes, averting looking at him again. „Virgin.” he murmurs for himself.

Over lunch – deer with plum sauce – they get to know each other. He tells her about his life, family and wars, hiding some details he´s ashamed of, and is pleasantly surprised how excited she is. „My parents taught me and my brother how to fight. My mother was warrior alongside my father.” „I usually had few my the most trustworthy warriors for my protection. I can´t really move on legs but in hand-to-hand combat I´m perfect.” „Maybe we can learn from one another.” „Maybe.”

After food Ivar meets all her animals and she shows him her gardens. Few metres from them is river with small boat. „It´s yours?” „Yes.” „It looks funny. I was on massive ones. My friend Floki built them. This one here is just joke.” „Ivar I swear that if you make any more stupid comments about my things I´ll leave you outside!” „Oh come on darling. You wouldn't do that. Not after your hard work.” He twirls slowly around his stick and bows. „You even put lavender oil into my hair.” He tosses his braids over shoulder. She laughs so much that she misses how he´s looking at her with goofy smile.

*few days later*

Ivar feels movement next to him and sits with dagger in hand. „It´s just me, you idiot.” says Moko, ruffling his hair on way down. „It´s still dark! Can´t we sleep a bit longer?” he shouts after her. „No. Today we´re going to Chichester so you better come for breakfast.”

In those couple of days he lived with Moko he learnt a lot about her, her people and culture. She was teaching him how to speak in her language, she showed him all her herbs and flowers and her knowledge in fighting, manufacture and farming. He wasn´t really fond of all of those things but he liked how excited she was when she was speaking about them or doing them. And if he tries those things too, oh gods, she even hugs him. It felt good.

Ivar is seating in covered carriage, petting her dog and listening to her singing. They travels for hours now with only one break and Ivar needs to sleep but he can´t. He somehow wants to protect her even when he doesn’t know why and how. „We will settle down here. Tomorrow morning we are in Chichester.” Her voice interrupts him from his thoughts. He looks out from carriage into darkening countryside. „Don´t just stare. Bring the chicken and make fire. If your puny regal ass can do that.” she smirks and starts to build a tent. Ivar is used to it by now, nonetheless he is surprised with how much ease she´s talking to him. He did what he could but that damn fire not and not to burst to life. „I thought you Vikings are fearful people and you can´t even make fire. Want some help?” He blames his shaking hands on cold not her presence. She makes fire in mere moments and then put kettle on it. „We will have chicken stew with vegetable and mushrooms. Is it ok?” He nods and watches with dilated pupils when she knocks off the poor bird. „It´s the last time I can have chicken or rabbit before Ostara.” „Then what?” „Bath in spring water, sacrifice hare and chicken but leave eggs for altar. We will have flower crowns and we will sow few seeds.” „Oh no, no. Leave me out of this. I will not have flowers in my hair.” „It will be fun.” „I doubt it.” „Shush and cut this please.”

Ivar sees stone towers and soldiers guarding big gate into Chichester. They are watching them suspiciously until Moko asks them for direction to market. „Don´t forget your name.” she warns him when she´s helping him out of carriage. „Leofric. I know.” he rolls his eyes. „Try to be more nice. Smile.” He turns to her and smile. Then smirks when she blushes. „I will find us room to sleep and you can put things on table. And leave your hood on.” „Gods woman! I´m not a child.” She giggles and walks away.

„We have room for three nights … Leofric, let him go!” Moko rushes to him and tries to separate him from another young man. „He tried to steal!” says Ivar. „I just wanted to see it better.” protests the other man, still with Ivar´s hand around neck. Moko smacks it and he growls at her but let go. „Thank you milady.” The other man tries to kiss her hand but she turns it palm up. „Return that bottle you stole. You may hurt yourself with it.” She waits few seconds and when nothing happens she jumps at poor man, turns his arm behind his back and yanks bottle from his hand. Ivar watches her with awe on his face. „Get off, idiot.” she spat at pathetic man and they both laugh when he runs away.

„That´s not funny Moko.” says Saxon soldier, walking to them. „Osgar, welcome.” „I see you keep up with tradition.” he snickers. „Every year someone tries something. They knows I can protect myself and my stuff but still.” „And you brought some friend.” He looks at Ivar sitting on stool. „That´s Leofric. I´m taking care of him.” „What happened?” „Bear in forest.” Ivar snorts. „I can say God is with him when he found the best healer in whole Anglia.” „Stop it Osgar!” Moko blushes again. „Rather tell me what happened after battle. Last time you didn’t have time.” „There is not much to say. We captured survivors and turned them into Christians. They live in their settlements. Our king trusts them.” „And you don’t?” He smirks. „I kind of envy those whose ran away. You knows my parents were Vikings, right? I live for day I will leave this land and will live like them.” he says quieter and looks around if someone hears him. „Adventurous Osgar. Any news about their kings?” „As far as I know Harald and Ivar are dead. But one son of Ragnar lives with Alfred in Winchester. I don’t know his real name. But his given one is Athelstan.” „Thank you. And what about your family?” „Good. My little girl is fighting with everyone and my wife isn´t very happy about it. My son still has mark on his face. He´s on guard now and I should replace him. See you later.” Day goes well, some of Moko´s customers comes and after sunset they goes to tavern for good night sleep.

„There is only one bed!” Ivar exclaims when they enter the bedroom. „Afraid of sleeping with me?” „What? No!” He puts their belongings on table, trying to calm down his too loud beating heart. „I'm going to have a bath. You will be ok here?” He nods. She disappeared behind the curtain  and he´s listening to her movements and noises she makes when she dives into warm water.

Moko feels water in the tub move. When she opens her eyes she sees Ivar sitting next to it. „What are you doing?” she squeaks. Ivar chuckles. „What does it look like? I have to wash as well. Or you want me dirty in bed?” She sinks more into water, only her head visible. He puts his hands into water again and his fingers brush her calf. She freezes and he smirks. „Your skin is so soft.” And she's blushing again. But both can play this game. „Will you wash my hair, please?” she asks innocently and his hand pauses in the middle of his face, eyes wide, shining. „Are you sure? I never done this.” Moko moves to him. „Please.” She turns her back to him and he clumsily takes her hair in one hand while the other is putting soap on it. Then he moves to her scalp. „That fells nice.” When he's done he smooths it on her back, his fingers lightly touching her skin. „Thank you. Give me a minute and you can go in as well.” She quickly rinses her head. „Close your eyes.” „Why?” „I have to go out and you can´t see me.” „I saw many naked women.” She glares at him over shoulder. „Fine.” But of course he cheated. He watches as she stands up and puts on linen tunic. After that she helps him in tub, she washes his hair and gives him his clothes.

„I said to the owner of this tavern that you are my husband.” says Moko nonchalantly when they are tuck in bed under warm duvet. „What!?” He sits up and frowns. „So we can have same room” ,,You are little minx.” he laughs and move closer to her. ,,What are you doing?” ,,Keeping us warm.” She turns her back to him, hiding her face into pillow. ,,Good night little minx.” he smiles into dark.

They wake up tangled at each other limbs. Moko tries to get up but Ivar´s arms around her are too strong. He nuzzles her hair and murmurs something. ,,Ivar, we have to go and sell otherwise we will have no money.” He groans when he opens his eyes. ,,I'll come later and brings you breakfast.” ,,You better be quick.” She kisses his cheek, throws her clothes on and she's gone. Ivar is still frozen on the bed processing what just happened.

,,I have bread, meat and wine.” ,,Oh, you are saviour! I'm starving.” He gives her plate with a cup on it. ,,Where is your food?” ,,I ate. Have only one hand free.” He waves with his right one and she grins at him. ,,Is it ok if you work until I finish?” ,,Sure.” He sells few pots and potions already when Osgar comes to them. ,,Hello you two.” ,,Good morning. Do you need something?” Moko asks. ,,Just to say you the news.” ,,What news?” ,,King Alfred will come here in five days to deal with Vikings in prison.” Moko sees Ivar stiffs. ,,Thank you. What do you think he will do to them?” ,,Probably gives them an option between conversion or death.” „And do you know if Viking´s prince will come too? I would like to see him.” He shrugs and goes back doing his work. „We need a plan how to get my brother and leave this stupid country.” „You don’t wanna kill       Alfred?” „Of course I want! But as you said, I need an army. I avenged death of my father on his grandfather and now I´ll avenge my own death on him.” „And rule Wessex?” „Maybe?” „Good luck then.” „You will not stay with me?” „I want to explore the world.” „If you will help me with Alfred I´ll give more treasure than you will ever need for fulfil your dream.” She looks at him sceptically. „Really?” „Word of the prince.” „I will think about it.”

„That one next to king on left is my brother Hvitserk.” Ivar whispers into her ear when Alfred comes to Chichester. „You remember our plan?” „Yes.”

They have to wait until next day but when Hvitserk comes to Moko´s stall she's nervous. He's handsome as Ivar but with lighter hair. They talk about different herbs for his problems and then she takes small dagger from her sleeve. „Prince Hvitserk, your brother Ivar wants you to have this.” „My brother is dead. I saw him fall in battle.” „I can assure you he's alive.” „How can I trust you?” „Because she's telling you the truth my brother.” says Ivar from shadow behind her. Hvitserk flinches a bit and can´t believe his eyes. „You are a witch! This is some stupid trick. My brother is dead!” „You see he's not.” Hvitserk slowly walks to Ivar and then he suddenly hugs him with teary eyes. „You fucking idiot! How comes gods saved you?” „They sent Moko. She took care of me.” Hvitserk looks at her and she smiles at him. „Nice to meet you.”

*month later in Winchester*

Ivar is excited all morning as helps Moko with selling. He sees men Hvitserk told him they are their allies when they walks around courtyard. They planned everything carefully. It took some time to collect enough men for attack to Winchester royal villa.

Once the night falls they moves. Quietly under veil of darkness their backups shoots guards on walls and at the gate and they are inside dim corridor. Hvitserk comes out from his hiding spot in kitchen with few warriors and silently they go forward to king´s chambers. His legs hurt and he's cursing on himself because Moko told him to rest during day but he didn’t listen. He sees her in the front of the group with plaited hair, sword ready for fight, serious look on painted face. Beautiful, clever and dangerous. That's what she is. Hvitserk is next to her eating something he stole from   kitchen.

Villa is suspiciously soundless and Ivar is suspicious. He feels it in his bones. It´s several minutes after they killed guards and until now they didn’t meet any more nor there was horn signal. For sure someone found bodies. But they have to do it. Even if it´s trap.

They reach their destination and Osgar goes first. The room is dark, only light from candles elucidate it. Ivar gives signal to his men and they encircle bed. Another signal and they are penetrating it with their swords. At same moment all other three doors of the room open and Alfred runs in with his soldiers, attacking mercilessly. Ivar watches as his warriors die one by one,        outnumbered. „Fight! Fight!” he screams, killing Saxons on his way to Alfred. Then everything freezes as he watches Moko moving between soldiers like air, sword and axe wet from their blood. One of Alfred´s bodyguards cuts her cheek and she stabs him in the neck, decapitating another one with other hand. Now she's face to face with king. What nobody awaits is Elsewith with sword assaulting Moko. English woman cuts her deep into hip when axe, thrown by Ivar, cuts through her back right after. His raging scream encourages his men. He assaults Alfred with blazing fury, maniac urge in the eyes. He effectively disarms young king, cuts his neck, fresh blood splashes him. Ivar throws himself onto Alfred stabbing him with all his power, shouting in old Norse, breathing heavy air with smell of sweat, dead bodies and taste of iron. Surviving Saxons watch in disbelieve and fear before they meet same fate from his fellow Vikings.

Things happens so quickly after that. One moment he is in king´s chamber, then he´s fighting his way from villa and in carriage fleeing into safety. He can feel adrenaline flows through his veins. Hvitserk sits opposite him, covered in blood too. They smile at each other. Moko´s next to him, patching her wound. „We did it.” he says victoriously and suddenly kisses her. She doesn’t protest and he's happy.

Following three months they are travelling and stealing all over Anglia. After that they build boats for way home. Night before their departure Ivar and Hvitserk are sitting by fire, enjoying peaceful quiet. „Will you go back to Norway or you´ll stay with Moko?” asks Hvitserk. „I don’t know what are you talking about brother. Of course I´m going with you!” „Are you sure Ivar? I see how you are looking at her.” Ivar glares at his laughing brother. „She doesn’t want to stay with me. She wants to travel.” „Then I´m gonna tell her i´ll accompanish her.” He turns to leave when a cup hits his head. „Don´t you dare!” Ivar screams. „Why not? She's free woman. Maybe I´ll ask her to marry me.” Hvitserk walks slowly backward with smirk, watching Ivar crawling on the ground as fast as he can to Moko´s tent.  

She walks out of it at same time as they show up. „Hello boys. Can I help you?” „Ivar wants to speak with you.” Hvitserk blurts out and Ivar hits him in the ankle. „Sure. I just need to get some food.” „I will get it. You two have fun.” „Come in then.” Moko smiles at Ivar.

„What you wanna talk about?” she asks, sitting next to him on bed. „Are you really sure you want to leave Anglia? And travel by yourself?” he asks straight away. „We spoke about it. I have small crew, you know.” „I know. It´s just … I don’t trust them that much. I would like to have you next to me more.” „As your friend, bodyguard or …?” „My right hand.” He looks at her. „And as my queen too, maybe?” She´s quietly staring at him and in next moment her lips are on his, her soft body collides with his hard one as they fall on bed.

His hands are on her hips, pushing her more and more against his prick. She takes off his tunic, her fingers grazing his tattoos. „You like them?” She nods and kisses him again. „Have you ever done this?” „No.” „Let me make you feel good then.” He is nervous like never before but also determined to do it right, to show her he really cares about her. His fingers are trembling when he unties her dress and takes it off. She tries to hide from his curious eyes but he catches her hands, kissing them and putting them next to her. „You are beautiful.” He kisses her whole shivering body until he reaches her warm core. When he looks back at her she's watching him already with flushed cheeks. They hold their gaze when his tongue touches her and she lifts a bit from bed. He's not  stopping her, only diving his head deeper. She's making those small noises he knew were good sign. „Ivar.” she moans his name. „I want more.” He hovers over her, kissing her. „If it hurts too much, you have to stop me, ok? I might not be able to control myself.” „Ok.” „Do you trust me?” „Yes.” He pushes slowly in her tight hole and kisses her tears away. „I'm sorry my Queen.” Her nails scratches his back, leaving bloody marks when he bottoms up. He waits few moments, then moves slowly, searching for any clues of her discomfort. None appears. She even smiles at him slightly. „Feels good?” „Yeah, it´s nice.” „Should I move faster, or is this fine?” „I have no idea!” she laughs. „You are the one with experiences.” „Yeah, right.” He nuzzle into her neck, his hips hitting hers as he quickens and she surprisingly pushes against him.

They are lost in their own pleasurable world, they didn’t even notice Hvitserk when he comes with food. He smirks proudly and walks away.

***

„I never thought I will love someone again but it happened.” Ivar smiles in Moko´s hair as they lies under warm furs, her head on his chest. „You love me?” „Yes. You have bewitched me, body and soul. My Celtic girl.” „I love you too Ivar.”

*next day*

A storm comes from nowhere and Moko´s watching as ship with Vikings is burning from     lightning strike. „Can´t we help them somehow?” „I'm sorry my love. They are probably all dead by now.” But much to his own surprise he can see some men jumping into the sea. „If I´ll die saving those idiots, I´m going to annoy you in Valhalla forever.” „And I will enjoy every second of it, my king. Now go and be a hero.” He kisses her briefly and then shuts orders. At the end they saves ten men but loose control over own boat.

***

„Land! Land!” Ivar hears shouting and stands up to see if it´s really true. „Not really how I imagined my travels but it´s still new land to explore.” Moko says next to him, hugging him. „Our new start my Queen.”

She turns in his embrace as they are looking towards their new adventures.

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

Dating a tattoo artist

Imagine: being a tattoo artist and your boyfriend being part of it

This was a fun idea I had. I hope you like it. Enjoy ❤️

Victor Creed

-he is here for it

-since his loooooonnnnggg life is well long he loves to tells stories of tattoo artists he met Japan, Brazil, New York, New Zeland...

-and you can bet that he will have the most elaborate tattoo you can think of since he said so

'You want a tattoo? From me?'

'Yes, I trust you.'

'That's the problem, Vic, you could end up with a dolphin tattoo on your arm.'

'.... Well... I still trust you?'

-after that, he was a little bug just to be on your good side which you took full advantage of

Being on top, commanding him? Sure

Handing you the remote even though it's next to you? Of course

Helping you choose an outfit even though you are indecisive and he has a short fuse? Hell yeah.

-when the day came you tattooed him a small quote that described him

"Tough times never last but tough people do"

(Robert H. Shuller)

'I love it. Thank you kitten.'

Loki Laufeyson

-Since he was in the cell for most of his life (in my universe that's the worst thing happening for him, he didn't die nor his mother) he doesn't know what a tattoo artist is he thinks that's an alternative art form he is supportive

-after you talk to him describing the definition of tattoos and the art behind it he is very much perplexed

'So mortals pay you to pierce their skin with black ink to paint...something????'

'Tattoo something on their skin and yes.'

'With pain in mind?????'

'Yes, and it looks awesome.'

-when he heard the story of your tattoo shop he decided to tag along to see the magic

-he saw how men and women tattooed others while they squirmed in their seats he chuckled at the sight of it

'Darling you could have told me.'

'What?'

'You torture people with the needle machines and coax them into paying you. Brilliant.'

'Suree~~~~'

-he stayed with you to help you with the pain giving without a medical license

'I'm a God. I'm above it.'

'No one is above the Inspection.'

Thor Odinson

-since his depression and weight gain he is very much informed of the world of MTV tattoo show "How far is tattoo far?"

-so he very much thinks that tattoos are a stamp of disgrace

-and keeping that in mind he is frazzled why are you doing a job like that

'You are a shame barer?'

'Shame-what...? Thor! I'm not. The show is a disgrace to the tattoo world.'

'Shame~~barer~~~'

'Just come with me and spend one day and see it for yourself.'

-Thor is reluctant much to his words but still, you sat him down in the waiting lobby he chats up the customers a.k.a big muscular dudes that are already tattooed from the neck down

'So... what is your shame? What horrible deed have you done to come here?'

'Excuse me!?'

'You must be here to condemn your shame by immortalizing it with a flesh sticker.'

-at this point, the muscle dude stood up ready to attack Thor but you intervene quickly

'Marc, stop!'

-the man turned around hiding his tight fist behind his back

'Y/n, already done? That's fast.'

'Marc, you know that you were released 7 months ago and you are still on parole. Come on. Stop it.'

'He insulted me and-and my tattoos. Your tattoos. You know how am about your work.'

-Thor hears that as stands up grabbing Marc's arm examining the tattoos in amazement

'My darling, I want that felsh sticker as he has.'

'.......... Sure........ Wait here. Let's go, Marc. I need to vent.'

Steve Rogers

-Steve knows what tattoos are since he has seen the stick and poke of his fellow soldiers but never a photorealistic tattoo in your portfolio

-he is very much intrigued how you made that look like a real person on someone's skin knowing very well there is no eraser

-loves to ask how do you achieve such colors that simply jump out or how you make a fabric that of a shirt or some patterns, he is armed with questions

-and since he is an art wizard himself he loves to have a painting duel with you, you paint on his skin with watercolors and he paints on the canvas

-that's one of his favorite moments

'What did you draw?'

'A dolphin kissing a penguin.'

'What?!'

'Just kidding I painted the building in Brooklyn where you lived.'

'Did I tell you how much I love you?'

Bucky Barnes

-this man thrives to see you fulfill your dream and passion

-especially when he picks you up, he parks the car exiting it and walking in seeing you talk to your employees and customers exchanging stories and laughs even though in the near distance is the buzzing sounds of the machine guns

-you see him and grab his hand giving him a peck on his lips as a cheeky grin is stuck on his face

-as you talk about your day he always asks the question

'Were there any wusses?'

-alluding to men who cried out form the stinging pain, eventually tapping out to take a break

'Yes, a big dude Marc. Ordered a neck tattoo with details. Tapped out in 15 minutes.'

'I knew it!'

-he enjoys in the hilarious stories you can make up... I mean tell

Bruce Wayne

-you already know the drill he has money he will give it to you but politely delined

-he tried to help with purest of heart but still, the answer was no

-he loved to see your shop filled with many customers as he walked incognito, sunglasses and a cap saying he wasn't a private appointment with the head tattooer

-Let's just say you were pretty much in tears of laughter as he reveled his face

'At least you tried, Bruce.'

-he loves to talk about tattoos and the process of healing if it's on top of a scar

-you are hooked on the conversation and even make him some sketches

'A huge dragon on your back with black and gold lining.'

'Okay but how about initials of my parents?'

'That sounds... Better much much better.'

-so the day of his tattooing comes you tattoo in his inner arm putting the letter T. & M. W.

'Thank you Princess.'

Clark Kent

-Clark loves to see the vast tattoos so much that he wants one but he knows that his body will "absorb" the tattoo too fast making it disappear in a few months maybe weeks

-but still, he loves to see how your gaze is sharp focused on the tattooing even when HE walks that is how much you are focused

'Alrighty, Marc you are done.'

'Thanks, Y/n, you are the best.'

-Clark also loves to hear the influx of comments of your artistry even if he's a little jealous

-he loves to see just how much you are happier to follow this insane passion

'You are an inspiration Y/n.'

'Why?'

'Because... You just are.'

Arthur Curry

-you already know that Fishman is tatted to perfection and he is here for a tattoo lover as well

-if you ever have someone asking for a Maori style tattoo Arthur will be a fair judge, that's what he says

Case#1

'Why do you want a Maori tattoo?'

'Um, sir beca-'

'It's Mr. Aquaman. Continue.'

'Oh, sorry. Mr. Aquaman, I want it because I find them cool.'

'Just cool? Do you think that the abundant culture of Maori people is cool? Go home boy.

Case #2

'You want a Ta Moko? Do you what that is?'

'Sur-sure, it's a tattoo of the Maori people.'

'Ufff... Do you know how much of a meaning Ta Moko carries? Why don't you go to the Yakuzas and get a tebori.'

'They would kill me.'

'Of course, and I'll whoop your uncultured ass with my two hands.'

-you turned to the now pale boy

'Run.'

-the man ran like the wind as the Aquaman caught him easily giving him a cultural lesson of Ta Moko

Orm Marius

-he kinda has a small soft spot for tattoos especially those with a loving meaning lover, family...

-and he likes to "inform himself" about it so he asks a ton of questions even asking what kind of tattoo would suit him

'I think a small red tattoo would suit your taste.'

'I like the tattoos who can hold audios.'

-with that sentence, he left you frazzled as you google and got the special ink kit gifting it to Orm as a present for being a nice guy and not killing anyone

-he immediately records his audio in secrecy and handing you the ink

-after you tattoo the ink you hand him your phone with the app to scan the audio

'Hey, Orm. I'm just reminding you that I love you. So much. It's Y/n if you forget... Somehow.'

-later that day you doused him with kisses

Joker

-that man oozes with tattoos *cough*damaged*cough*

-and you can bet that he wants more of them he brings into your home the whole tattoo parlor just so he can have a private session with sex mixed in

-you gladly tattoo him patching up some of his tattoos he has outgrown them

'Why did you tattoo Kick Me on your back?'

'I won a bet.'

'Are you sure you won?'

'For sake of this question I did.'

-you cover the kick me tattoo with a large red dragon with green eyes

-he stands up looking at the tattoo in the mirror

'Sweets, you just got a huge tip.'

Duncan Vizla

-for him, tattoo nowadays are dumb in his time tattoos were means of solidarity with people who are bounded by the same ink and gun

-but keeps his mouth shut about it not to offend your dream even if it's tattooing dancing hotdogs

-he loves to pass your parlor when he finishes grocery shopping just to see you in action

-he loves to arrive at the parlor if you are doing a night shift just to keep you safe and in good company

-he loves to bring you lunch and watch you eat it with such content and happiness

-it melts his heart and just wants to make you more food

-but as he is present for the good he is here for the bad

-if he is somewhere anywhere you just need to call him and he is there in a minute be it a drunken person not wanting to exit or an aggressive man trying to grope someone in the shop

-he is ready to kill them if you say so

'You okay sweetheart?'

'Um-yeah...Thank you Donut.'

'Nonsense. That's my duty.'

[miqojak]

🍒, 🍑, ⭐ :D

Woops, this got long. Sorry? :P

🍒 What kind of things do they expect from their relationships? Does this differ between platonic relationships and romantic ones? Is your OC “demanding” or a door mat? What kinds of things do people expect from them in a relationship? She’s demanding of anyone she keeps close - friend, or lover. You reflect back on her, and if you’re a fool - she looks a fool. She sets a high bar for friendship, and sticks to it. She’s as loyal as they come, once someone matters, but...sometimes that manifests in annoying ways. Much like a cat knows its routine and will lose its shit at you if you’re five minutes late on dinner...well, she’ll ride your ass for self-improvement just as hard as she stays on herself. She may grow over protective - it’s happened once before, after all, and she rather made a mess of things by trying to ‘help’. She expects that people give their all in whatever it is they do, and don’t ‘waste’ their lives. What people expect from her I have no fuckin��� clue, ha! I mean, if they need someone to hold them accountable, or help them sift through a matter to find a more logical answer or outcome (she’s rather insightful, and logical, actually). Or maybe they just want a good verbal spar! 

🍑 Where is your OC’s favourite place to relax or calm down? Recount a story of their time spent in this place! What makes it so special to them?

Well, normally it’s just ‘in her bath’ - as of yet, very few things can slow her down and chill her out as fast as a soak in a hot tub. Her mind is constantly spinning with the next step, and the next - getting that to stop is a welcome relief. Somewhere else she slips off to is Little Ala Mhigo - now and then she gets homesick, or she’s hit by painful memories of a family she no longer has...and she’s not sure she’ll ever have what it takes to actually return to Gyr Abania, but Little Ala Mhigo helps settle that feeling that stirs. It helps to see people like her, to hear an accent from her homeland, to eat the food she knows, and just exist in the midst of the activity as if she were amidst a bustling tribe, again, for just a little while. Sitting up on a ledge and drawing people that go by is a good distraction. That, or sometimes she’ll take off into the desert from there, and find a good place to watch the sun set, maybe stargaze a while.

⭐ What is your OC afraid of? Any crippling phobias or some such? How do they act when scared and what helps them calm down? Does anyone ever find your OC scary? Why?

She doesn’t like small spaces - or seemingly enclosed spaces with no readily available, easily accessed exit; she’s also terrified of levin - these are big ones for her. She’s incredibly suspicious of magitek, as well. These all stem from her time stuck in a Garlean facility, and aren’t going away any time soon. (Right now, that old fear is being stoked with all those Garlean towers. It’s a pretty crippling phobia at present.) There’s also just...some triggers that can set her off at times - and last time she was set off, it just sort of...sent her into an almost manic state. Trying not to show fear, trying not to show unease - it tends to usually manifest in anger, but it can lead to a lot more quick, jerky movements, stuttering, and ever more noticeable fidgeting (anxiety manifests this way). Being faced with real, genuine fear (like levin) can absolutely see her cower, pin her ears, whimper - she gets quiet, and small. Calming her is a task - a long, hot bath always helps, after the fact; listening to some piano music; sitting down to draw in her sketchbook; going on a run; getting out in nature, or...just getting some violence out of her system to feel more in control (she used to smoke a lot of somnus for her issues, but a little moko now and then helps instead, these days). That, or if Ketsuchi is around, he’s gotten pretty good at assuaging her fears - she’s gone to him in her time of need, before, and he doesn’t mock her for what shakes her. That, and his presence is more reassuring than not, anymore - if he’s the scariest thing in the room, what can hurt her, after all? 

Which, to address the last point as well - isn’t to say that she’s not scary, as well, when she’s inclined to be. There’s a boundless fury coiled tight in this tiny little woman, and when she takes the lid off of it, things get ugly. Just because she’s bottling it all up doesn’t mean that it’s not coming out eventually - and woe betide whoever earns that wrath. (One of her ex’s even named a spicy whiskey after her: Dragon’s Wrath...because of her notable dragon tattoo...and, well, her notable temper.) The DRK soul crystal certainly gives her an edge in being ‘scary’, when she can manifest a horrifying canine shadow monster with too many teeth and eyes - though even without the Jackal, she often uses her crystal-given power to instill fear in people, rather than butcher them outright. She’s lived a lot of her life in fear...and takes a special delight in visiting it upon others. That she’s not caving to such violent urges/impulses these days is also a testament to the influence her Wolf has over her; with someone around that matters, and who’s voice she’ll heed...society is a lot safer from her moods. (Without the magic, she’s still got her knives, and poisons - and a sharp little tongue backed by an insightful mind prone to picking apart people’s insecurities just to watch them squirm.) 

[nadana-vhet]

Layers: N’adana Vhet

Tagged by the cutest @verthunder <3 (I don’t have an active FF14 sub because school is killing me so here’s an older screenshot lol). Gonna try answering these as if someone was asking them directly to N’adana, to get down her voice a bit better!

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

Name: “N’adana Vhet! Thanks for askin’ instead of just calling me the Warrior of Light for once!”

Eye Color: “Green.”

Hair Style/Color: “I get my red hair from my ma’, but I keep it pretty short, around my chin or so, but it’s also pretty curly so sometimes I braid the worst of it back so it doesn’t get in my face while I’m fightin’.”

Height: “I’m uh... five feet and five inches? Shorter than the twins now, unfortunately.”

Clothing Style: “I feel like I’m pretty practical, which frustrates Tataru and some of the other Scions,” she laughs, “I’m almost always in trousers and boots outside of my armor, and I wear this jacket Tataru made me quite a lot. The leather’s so worn at this point that she’s begging to make me a new one, but then I’ll have to break another one in and the leather’ll be all stiff again.”

Best Physical Feature: “Uh, my... eyes, maybe? I like the way they look with my hair, and - don’t tell Tataru - but I like it when she makes me things that match them.”

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

Your Fears: “Oh, boy. I think my biggest fear is being forgotten, or failing to protect the people I love. I also never want to see another ahriman - I hate their stupid, gross mouths.”

Your Guilty Pleasure: “Mm... to be honest, I kind of like it when I get to dress up for Scion events. Sometimes Tataru covers for me and I get to sneak off with Alphinaud and Alisaie, and even though I complain about the dresses I really like feeling pretty once and a while.”

Your Biggest Pet Peeve: “When people talk down to me because I’m younger than them. It’s like, I’ve killed primals for gods sakes, can you please just let me talk?!”

Your Ambition for the Future: “I want to be able to protect my friends as long as possible. Maybe when I’m old and grey and can’t lift my weapons anymore, I want to know that I made the world safe enough that someone else won’t have to take my place.”

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

Your First Thoughts Waking Up: “Gotta go make breakfast for Alisaie!”

What You Think About the Most: “If I don’t have to think about my duties - and honestly sometimes during the times I have to - Alisaie.”

What You Think About Before Bed: “Gotta get up early enough so I have time to make breakfast for Alisaie (sometimes she beats me to it).”

You Think Your Best Quality Is: “I guess the fact that I’m stubborn as hell. Wouldn’t have gotten as far as I have without it.”

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

Single or Group Dates: “I’d like group dates more if we could just set someone up with Alphinaud...”

To be Loved or Respected: “Well, if you love someone you should respect them too, right? But I guess... I’d rather be loved. Everyone can disrespect me as long as I have people that will be there for me when I need them.”

Beauty or Brains: “Brains, duh. Just because all the Scions are unfairly pretty doesn’t mean their brains aren’t more important.”

Dogs or Cats: “...Do I even need to answer this one?”

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

Lie: “I mean, we all lie, right?” she coughs, “I learned from the best liar I know - right, Urianger?!” “But really, I try not to. I mostly lie about when I’m hurting and don’t want people to worry.”

Believe in Yourself: “Absolutely not, when I think about it for more than five seconds. But I never have more than five seconds to think about it in the moment, so... yes?”

Believe in Love: “Of course!”

Want Someone: “Like... how? Alisaie and I are, uh, a ‘thing,’ if that’s what you mean.”

LAYER SIX: EVER?

Been on Stage: “For ceremonies, sure. I’ve never been in a play or anything though.”

Done Drugs: “The stuff they gave me after Rhalgar’s Reach was something hard. Other than medical stuff, though, I smoked some moko grass during my paladin training in Ul’dah, before I joined the Scions. All it really did was make me kind’ve sleepy, though.”

Changed Who You Were to Fit In: 

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

Favorite Color: “Orange!”

Favorite Animal: “Do carbuncles count? They’re like magical cats! Alphinaud’s carbuncles, especially Moonstone, are super cuddly.”

Favorite Food: “Mm... Tataru’s popoto soup, for sure.”

Favorite Game: “Oh, I love playing Bullshit, especially with the Scions. I’m so bad at lying but seeing Thancred swindle everyone else never gets old.”

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

Day Your Next Birthday Will Be: “22nd Sun of the Second Astral Moon.”

How Old Will You Be: “I’ll finally be eighteen!”

Age You Lost Your Virginity: “Um... haven’t done that yet.”

Does Age Matter: “Yeah, I think so. I don’t understand why people in different stages of their lives would want to be together. I remember so many of my friends back home, in Limsa, dating these creepy guys in their twenties and it was always so... weird.”

LAYER NINE: IN A BOY OR GIRL

Best Personality: “I’ve always liked spunky girls - ones who never back down from a fight, work hard, and somehow still manage to look pretty doin’ all of it.”

Best Eye Color: “Blue eyes are pretty, but maybe I’m just saying that because Alisaie has blue eyes...”

Best Hair Color: “Is it obvious enough if I say white hair?”

Best thing to do with a Partner: “Napping. I never have time to just relax, so if I can squeeze in a nap with Alisaie, it makes my day.”

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I love: “Alisaie Leveilleur.”

I feel: “content. For now, at least. Having G’raha around and being back in the Source feels good.”

I hide: “how tired I am.”

I miss: “not having so many responsibilities. Sometimes I just want to be a kid, you know? I love being a hero and all, but sometimes I just wish I could turn it all off for a few hours.”

I wish: “for Thancred to stop snorin’ so damn loud the next room over. Really, I’m ready to ask Tataru to move my room.”

This has been in my notifications for a while so idk who’s done this by now! But this is for u homies: @bard-of-light, @onwesterlywinds, @msviolacea, and @shepherdtothestars. <3

[lenneth-andrew]

Lenneth Andrew

Appearance –

Gender: Male Race: Duskwight Elezen  Height: 6′8” Eye Color: Moon white  Hair Color: Midnight, easily sunbleaching to medium royal blue

The Facts –

Name Day: 9th Sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon (June 8th) Occupation: Alchemist  Sexual identification: Homosexual Romantic identification: Homoromantic. He doesn’t exactly think of himself as polyamorous, if you asked him, but he does have multiple concurrent romantic relationships so... Alignment: Recovering neutral evil Criminal History: Managed to evade arrest within Dalmasca for quite some time, until he finally crossed one too many lines and the Garlean police finally came after him for a little TLC time in a labor camp. For the rest of his life. He managed to ship himself to Radz-at-Han in a crate before they shipped him to a gulag, but only just. Relationship Status: In open relationships with both Atherton Namir (@imperialnuisance​) and Ilan Faust (@fireiistarter​). Susceptible to catching The Feels for anyone male and reasonably nice to him. Sweet on: Other than Atherton and Ilan? He’d rather die than confirm or deny anything, honestly (but it’s not terribly hard to guess based on the company he keeps). Hard to say, though, he’s strikingly incompetent at figuring out which emotion he’s feeling, just that there is one and can it please stop now.

Favorites –

Favorite food: Anything strongly-flavored and very, very spicy.  Favorite drink: Alcohol? He’s not actually that picky, but a good whiskey never goes amiss with him. Favorite artist: He doesn’t really have much of an opinion on this front, but he does really enjoy Renaux’s singing voice. Favorite scent: Incense, tea, whiskey, certain alchemical processes, ceruleum exhaust, machine shop grease, tobacco, woodsmoke, somnus. Favorite person: If he absolutely had to choose one person, likely Atherton, as that’s who he has known the longest and been the closest to, but he’d really rather not be put in this position, thanks.

Randoms –

Ten facts about your muse: ⚫ Lenneth has been at other times a somnus dealer and information broker, but he’s largely gotten out of the business and got clean. (Also I don’t do heavy drug RP now for OOC reasons, so there’s that.) He does still grow his own moko and use a fair amount of it, as it’s one of the few things that keeps his rather twitchy nerves on an even keel. ⚫ While he is an arcanist, he learned a different school in Dalmasca more focused on disruption of biological aetheric processes and without any kind of summoning. He struggles to use Eorzean books as foci, as the math is wildly divergent from what he’s expecting. He’s also largely self-taught, so some of his grasp of it is more intuitive than learned, so while he struggles with inorganic targets, he’s also a fairly flexible caster and can change strategies on the fly if needed.

⚫ Lenneth grew up in Garlean-occupied Dalmasca and considered himself Garlean for his entire life. To some extent he still does, even though he’s applied for Eorzean citizenship as a refugee. He’s finally adapting to life outside a regimented system in which he’s at the bottom, but it’s been a Process, man. ⚫ In the same vein, being Garlean has made it extremely difficult for Lenneth to talk to or trust most people for several years now, and it’s worn on him incredibly heavily. He’s at last in a somewhat better place, as almost nobody would attack a refugee even if he told them where he’s from, and he’s been working very hard at not automatically distrusting (if not actively disliking) every new person he meets. His mental health is on a positive trend for a change as a result.

⚫ He loves swimming, and moving to Mist has been a fantastic thing for him. Lenneth swims near-daily, weather allowing, and finding him along the shore in the morning is not at all an unusual occurrence when it’s warm. Growing up, he often went swimming in an abandoned quarry not too far from town, so even in the desert he managed to practice frequently enough. He’s fairly good at it at this point, and the Elezen build of a lean body, long arms, and large hands gives him a bit of an advantage.

⚫ You would not expect a bookish noodle of a man like Lenneth to enjoy fighting, let alone be any kind of competent at it, but he actually has an impressive record at the Gin Mill, in single matches as well as taking home the grand championship of a full bracket tournament. After suffering a near-fatal knife wound from an extremely poor loser, he lost a lot of his confidence and stopped competing, but he’s been slowly coming back again and hasn’t lost too much of his edge.

⚫ He originally learned alchemy (also self-taught, as are almost all of his skills) in order to process his own somnus from raw materials and cut out the middleman, but he’s turned it into a legal day job and a decent business. Most of his product goes to Ilan’s and Nevivi’s clinics, but he does a fair trade around Ul’dah, usually dealing in bulk with other merchants as a supplier. He’s not opposed to making sales to individual clients (plot hook!), though it isn’t the largest part of his work.

⚫ Lenneth has a very self-deprecating sense of humor, and you’ll know when he thinks of you as a friend because he’ll turn it outwards and give you a rough time about minor things in jest. Granted, sometimes people can find this offputting, and then he’s back where he started with them. Whoops.

⚫ Having been born and raised in a desert, Lenneth cannot stand being cold. Unfortunately, Atherton very much likes Ishgard and the Skysteel Manufactory, so he can either spend time there with Atherton and freeze, or not spend time with Atherton and stay warm. More often than not he ends up staying home, where the snow cannot get him. When it even gets cold in Vylbrand, he just complains and lives in Atherton’s room where the forge keeps it warm.

⚫ Lenneth’s difficulty in trusting people is finally starting to budge, after years, but it’s been an endless uphill struggle for him. He has a very hard time showing it but he’s incredibly grateful for the friends that have stuck with him even when he’s done terrible things. Granted, once this sentiment’s been filtered through his tsundere shell, it comes out a little more scary than he means for it to...but he really tries.

Five Things -

Things they like:

Extremely hot foods

Good tobacco

Really, anything made with good workmanship

Comfort in just about any form

Cozy spaces, not too brightly lit

Things they dislike:

Jumpscares

Having to hear about how Garleans are all terrible

Being assumed to be Ishgardian

Strangers touching him

Thinking about his family

Good habits:

Left to his own devices, he’s fairly motivated and productive

Actually fairly clean and tidy, likes everything in order

Between his own love of swimming and Atherton’s morning exercise routine, he’s fairly active and in decent shape

He likes learning new things and is a good self-teacher

Though he’s not an easy friend to make, once you do, he’s loyal to the point of murder (...which might actually be bad)

Bad Habits:

Using moko and alcohol to make up for a lack of coping skills

Forgetting to eat when he’s focused

Does not do all the pushups, basically ever

Automatically thinking of most people as savages...

Really cannot keep a regular schedule to save his life

Personalities they gravitate toward:

Strong types

...Kind of scary types actually

People who radiate self-confidence

Intelligent sorts

Very loyal people

Personality types they avoid:

Braggarts

People with chips on their shoulder

Clingy sorts

Martyrs (although he has multiple friends in this category, much to his nonstop chagrin and early gray hair...)

Stupid brutes

Fears:

Scorpions

Alienating friends (but he’s so good at it...)

Crowds

Rejection

Being physically entrapped

Tagged kind of indirectly by: @shroudwayman Tagging: God damn this was long, do it at your own risk if you want to.

[sukipershipper]

I don’t know how supportive Tumblr users are of Original characters and stories but I don’t care, here you go. These guys are apart of a series called ‘Rugged’, it will consist of Comics and Short Fics. They are split into two groups, the City Kids (The first Four) and the Country Kids (The Other four)

But enough from me, time to introduce this lot

CITY KIDS

Aiyana Clarissa Alvarenga

BIRTHDAY: 5th July

NICKNAMES: Yana, Paizinho Anjo (Her Dad)

AGE: 18

ETHNICITY: Portuguese/Danish

HEIGHT: 5,7ft

WEIGHT: 78kg

EYE C: Brown/Blue

HAIR C: Brown-Blonde

TRAITS: Absolute Daddy’s Girl, full of herself, can be a snob at times

STORY:

Aiyana was born and raised in the city of Baltimore with her Mother but recently moved to New York to stay with Father, after she became enrolled at NYU (New York University). She stays with her Father in his apartment, which is shared with 2 foreign exchange students. Her hope is that, by the time she graduates, she will become a teacher and take over her father's job, even though her Mother would much prefer she took a course in modelling.

Camille Lucie Claeys

BIRTHDAY: 17th March

NICKNAMES: Cammy

AGE: 21

ETHNICITY: Belgian-Polish

HEIGHT: 6,2 ft

WEIGHT: 83kg

EYE C: Blue

HAIR C: Black

TRAITS: Quiet, Very Posh, Hates going to social events, Fluent in French

STORY:

Camille was raised in New York and was enrolled into NYU (New York University). Her father was of Belgian descent while her Mother was of Polish Descent, and before moving to America had owned a restaurant in Belgium called ‘Dîner au Paradis’, but had to shut it down due to not having enough money to fund the business. Camil’s biggest hope is to graduate from school, and re-open the restaurant in Manhattan.

Miko Airi Kobayashi

BIRTHDAY: 23rd January

NICKNAME(S): Cherry Blossom (Her Parents), Koko

AGE: 19

ETHNICITY: Japanese

HEIGHT: 5,3 ft

WEIGHT: 42kg

EYE C: Brown

HAIR C: Black

TRAITS: Wild Card, Loves her Music, an Otaku, Knows a bit of English.

STORY:

Miko lived in Tokyo, where she studied at Kaisei High School, before moving to America to study at NYU (New York University). She shares an apartment with Aiyana, Mr Alarenga, and one other foreign student. Miko is a girl with a simple plan, she wants to earn a Bachelor of Music and work at NYU as a Recording Engineer, and hopefully, earn a part-time job as a DJ.

Nicholas Rawiri Taumata

BIRTHDAY: 10th November

NICKNAME(S): Nick, Slick, Moko (His Mom and Dad)

AGE: 21

ETHNICITY: Maori

HEIGHT: 6,7ft

WEIGHT: 85 kg

EYE C: Brown

HAIR C: Brown-Black

TRAITS: Quirky, Very Honest (a bit too much), Social Butterfly, Loves sketching

STORY:

Nicholas was born in New Zealand before moving to America, where he is currently attending NYU (New York University). Currently, he lives with Aiyana Alarenga, Mr Alarenga and Miko, until he can afford to get his own house. For the longest time, Nicholas did nothing more but sketch and animated, although his animations needed major improvement in his eyes. Determined to become better, he set off to NYU to take up Graphic Arts.

COUNTRY KIDS

Isaiah Elias Altermatt

BIRTHDAY: 30th October

NICKNAME(S): Mein hübscher Junge (Mom), Izzy

AGE: 28

ETHNICITY: American-African-Swiss

HEIGHT: 7,2 ft

WEIGHT: 125 kg

EYE C: Hazel

HAIR C: Black

TRAITS: Hecking Giant, Farm Boy, Animal Lover

STORY:

Isaiah is a very gentle and hardworking soul, always looking out for family and friends. Once he graduated from high school, he didn’t plan on going to University, he was set on finding a job to help his family out with their finances. An Old friend of his father had reached out to him to tell him about a job opportunity opening up on his farm, willing to make some money, Isaiah had accepted the role. He and his family now live in a house close to the farm.

Hestia Nefertiti Moghadam

BIRTHDAY: 17th November

NICKNAME(S): Tia, Hesty, جوهرة جميلة (Jawhrat Jamila (Her Dad))

AGE: 26

ETHNICITY: American-Arabian

HEIGHT: 6,9ft

WEIGHT: 91kg

EYE C: Light Brown

HAIR C: Black

TRAITS: Optimistic, Hard Working, Welcoming

STORY:

Hestia is a bright and cheerful girl, always able to look on the bright side and can cheer anyone up. Hestia dropped out of University after her Mother died, she decided to earn a job to help her father have money to keep his farmland. During her job search, she came across a local cafe, and after spending a while there, she decided to have a go applying for a job there. Hestia landed a job there as a Barista, and now she greets people with a smiling face as they walk in.

Christopher Matteo Mancini

BIRTHDAY: 5th January

NICKNAME(S):  Chris, Noodle, Dipstick

AGE: 28

ETHNICITY: Italian

HEIGHT: 7,0ft

WEIGHT: 119kg

EYE C: Green

HAIR C: Brown

TRAITS: Mischievous, Playful, Active

STORY:

Christopher was born into a very wealthy family, they owned a huge estate in Venice, Italy, his Father was apart of the Mafia, but soon conflict arose as the gang soon started turning on him, believing he sold them out to the police. Wanting to get his family away from the situation, and make sure his children grew up living a better life, they all moved to America. Christopher and his family moved to the countryside, where he found work on a farm and secret life in a criminal gang.

Vincent Liam Tremblay

BIRTHDAY: 22nd December

NICKNAME(S): Vinvin, Vinnie, Stick

AGE: 25

ETHNICITY: Canadian

HEIGHT: 6,1 ft

WEIGHT: 81kg

EYE C: Blue

HAIR C: Dirty Blonde

TRAITS: Outgoing, Young, Adventurous, Kind

STORY:

The youngest of the farm kids, Vincent is a curious being, who wants to discover everything the world had to offer. Vincent grew up in Ottawa, Canada, and came from a pretty poor family (not overly poor, but not overly rich either), and, in a pursuit to make more money for his family, Vincent travelled to New York in search of a job, and found work on a farm, earning a fair amount of money and sending ¾ of his earnings to his parents in Canada.

Hope you guys like it! :D

[catnip-smuggler-radio]

Candlelight: Part 3

(Fight between Haname and Yimir in true fighting game style.  Hope you all enjoy! :D  Warning, long. Lol.  As always Haname is @repose-and-run char) Yimir rose from his feet and studied the man before him.  Not a bell ago, the man had rested at the feet of Nald’thal, ready to enter the god’s domain of death. The man in question was an old regular of Yimir’s, back before he’d entered into negotiations with Ostreaux about working for the elezen’s organization and his alone.  Yimir would be joining a organization for life and he was still uncertain what he’d do; but for now he was here, aiding an old friends soul.  A soul that was not for collecting today.  Yimir had pulled the man from the great beyond and allowed him to live a bit longer.  Yimir took a long sip of water from a flask.  The effort of healing the man’s wounded form had taken a lot out of him and he was weary now.  He slowly pulled his grey robe up over his bandaged arms and shoulders.  The healer looked at his own, bandaged hands and marveled at how someone as insignificant as himself somehow could keep life inside a ruined form through will and aether.  Did he defy the Wheel of Fate, or was he a part in its great machinations? He doubted he would ever know.  He glanced out the window of the small apartment that overlooked Pearl Lane.   It was night already…

The night was dark and full of terrors. Not really, but it was full of crime and shady individuals. The Masked Moogle crouched atop an old, rundown building in Pearl Lane, face hidden behind a Magitek mask and Moogle katana strapped to her side. She wore a gaudy white coat and boots, true to her namesake, and what looked like a Moogle plush dressed as a Taoist floated around her. She didn't have her signature pigtails. No, that'd be way too obvious. After all, how many other grown women wore their hair in pigtails? Not many. It was the perfect disguise. The mask she wore warped her voice and hid her aetherial signature. And the outfit she wore was way too flashy and cool compared to her usual wardrobe. She was a real vigilante now-- No. She was a superhero, stalking the alleys of Ul'dah to fight crime.

"He'll need a few days rest an' den needs tuh take it easy all healed up meow." Yimir said as he stepped out the door of the small, building into the Lane. "Just keep him relaxed." With that, the blonde shut the door and turned to walk down the street. He was dressed in a white, cotton shirt over which was a large, grey robe and a polished, leather bandolier across his chest. Thigh-high leather boots covered brown riding pants and a large yellow-and-black plaid scarf was wrapped around his neck and lower face. He moved slowly, keeping an eye out for any patrolling Blades. They were a rare sight around these parts but anyone moving in the lane past sunset was up to no good.

The Masked Moogle noticed movement from the corner of her eye. She tapped the side of her mask and the screen of it zoomed in to the area she turned her head towards. She couldn't quite make out a face due to the large hat and scarf, but she knew the area well enough back in her moko smuggling days where each crime den was. And that was definitely a crime den. She looked the suspicious figure up and down, and judging by their conversation, he was probably a medic. Getting up from her crouched position, she followed after the man from the rooftops, pausing only to send her Moogle companion out. The Moogle plush fluttered down and twirled happily around Yimir, its little Taoist robes fluttering in the desert breeze. "Where are you going, kupo? What have you been up to, kupo?" It asked in its irritatingly adorable voice. "My name is Gohan, kupo! You look suspicious, kupo!"

Yimir stopped and waved his left arm to shoo the moogle away. He couldn't believe he was running into a moogle of all things! What was the world coming too? "Begone ye little one." Yimir ordered in a mildly annoyed manner. Certainly he felt no threat from the intrusive creature as they were known to be silly drunks more than anything else, but the creature was loud and could garner him some unwanted attention. "I ain't done nuttin' but take a walk. Shoo!"

 "Ain't done nuttin', kupo?" Gohan quoted, floating down so it was almost nose to nose with Yimir. "What kind of nuts, kupo? Kupo nuts? There were some shaaady men back there, kupo. Ah! Watch out, kupo!" And then Gohan zoomed off, flying several feet up into the air above Yimir. The distraction was provided and the Masked Moogle leapt off the building right above the blonde Mi'qote, nearly landing on top of him with her katana drawn. "Alright, kupo." She said in a low voice, which really wasn't needed since her mask warped her voice to a much higher pitch anyways. "Hands up in the air. I know what kind of shady business you've been dealing with, kupo. I need you to come with me. Peacefully." She paused. "Kupo." She added to the end.

 "I said buzz off ye-" Yimir's ears perked as he heard something above him. He couldn't tell what it was but his tail poofed in a sign of danger and he leapt backwards, pulling a small kukiri made from bone out of his robe. He landed on both feet and tensed his entire body as he held his weapon at his side. He peered at this new arrival as if it was a coiled viper. There was no joy in his mismatched eyes as his tail swished behind him. The vigilante's words further soured his impression of her. He had no intention of complying with her orders and he spun the dagger around a finger by its o-ring. "I dun know who ye are, but I ain't goin' anywhere with yeh. So either ye move out de way or...we gonna have ourselves some trouble."

Yes Yimir. Sound tough. You are sooo badass.

 "Heh, so you really won't come peacefully then, huh kupo?" The Masked Moogle said with a small tilt of her head. "Well then.." She sheathed her sword. "I am the Masked Moogle, Champion of Justice!" She struck a pose. "In the name of the Mog, I shall punish you!" Another pose. Was that necessary? No, but she had been wanting to do it for a long time now and what better opportunity to than now? She held the pose for a moment longer as Gohan slowly descended back down, shaking its big, fat Moogle head.

 The blonde male stopped spinning his knife, almost cutting a finger off as he stared in dumbfound wonder at the woman's posturing. Was...was this for real? Was this seriously happening? Was this person really challenging him to a fight while acting like a gosh darn moogle and posing like she was a power ranger? He blinked and it took him him almost a minute to manage to form som sort of reply. "Are...are ye for real? Ye seriously want...but…Do ye do this often or sumfing? First time? Cause aint heard of ye." FIGHT BEGINS! QUE MUSIC!

"Hah! And clearly your first time if you've never heard of me, kupo!" The Masked Moogle was bluffing. But she had been down Pearl Lane enough times to know she had never seen this loser around before. And the fact that he hadn't straight up shanked her. "You're as green as they come, aren't ya kupo?" In a flash, she drew her katana again and well... threw it straight at his head.

Yimir had been expecting her to do something. -Throwing- the gosh darn katana, however, HADN'T been near the top of that list. He was saved by muscles and sheer instinct alone. He leaned back, flailing his arms behind him and sensing the world in slow motion as if he was dodging bullets in a video game. The weapon sailed over his head, the blade gleaming along it's polished edge in the moon's light. The healer watched it sail a mere ilm over his nose. And then it was gone. Yimir pulled himself upright and stood there, honestly surprised his himself and actually thanking his dad for making him do yoga. He was very bendy. But his wonder didn't last long. He glanced at the woman and clicked his tongue. Using his aether, he connected with the elements instead of his normal spells. His holy flames would be too obvious. Instead, he waved his hand and a gust of wind blew down the Lane and tried to slam into her feet and knock her onto her butt.

The gust of wind was strong. But not strong enough! The Masked Moogle had been hit by things worse than a little gust. Like boulders, shovels, and angry Highlanders. She butterfly-kicked into the air, doing a little spin like a Moogle would. Speaking of Moogle, Gohan was chanting "fight, kupo, fight, kupo, fight, kupo" the whole time. Landing on her feet again, she raised her hand and whistled. Unbeknownst to Yimir, her ridiculous looking katana was Magitek -infused and came boomeranging back around towards the back of Yimir's head a second time.

 Yimir twirled his kukiri a few times and had taken a step forward when the pommel of the katana smashed into the back of his head. He jerked his head forward as a loud thwack filled the air from the impact. He used his free had to hold the back of his skull as he glanced between his golden locks at the bizarre sight. A magical katana... This was turning into a very weird evening. "Alright buttercup." Yimir muttered, rubbing his sore skull as he stood up. "Let's wrap this up." Yimir snapped his left hand. Two chains of gold would spring from the ground like twin pythons and try to wrap themselves around her torso and pin her arms to her sides.

"Hah! Not today, 'cuz I'm not here to stay!" The Masked Moogle rhymed as she leapt up just in time for the chains to miss snagging around her. She paused briefly and added, "..Kupo." She caught her katana midair and dashed forward in an attempt to shoulder-tackle the Mi'qote with.. well, not quite full-force since that would be a dead giveaway, but with at least strength to knock the air out of him if she landed a hit.

"Oh great, and it rhymes." Yimir muttered as the moogle warrior came at him with her weapon drawn. Her bravado how made it clear what her goal was and he simply side stepped her raging charge. As she ran past, he very casually stuck his foot out to trip her.

"KUUUUPOOOOOOO--" Followed by a loud, audible thud as the Masked Moogle fell face first into the ground and with the speed she had been charging at, she tumbled several feet away. Her mask nearly slid off from the accident as well but fortunately, she had her back to the medic and quickly adjusted it before ripping the Moogle adornment on her katana and promptly hurling it at Yimir. It made a little 'kupo' squeak and as it sailed through the air, the Masked Moogle pressed a button on her mask. Soon after, sparks of lightning began to fizz out from the ornament. If it successful in landing on the blonde, it would send him into quite a shock! Literally.   Yimir was very smug as he heard the vigilante eat it on the stone street. Not that he looked. No he turned his back and began quickly shuffling away, eager to put this odd person and their moogle obsession far behind him. This desire for an expedient exit, however, proved a poor idea. A few moments later, he sensed the electricity behind him. The hair on his tail poofed again and he yelped out loudly: "Don't taze me bro!" But, alas, Haname did not listen and the blonde was tazed. His entire body convulsed and his muscles tensed. He collapsed in a heap as the moogle adornment bounced away.

"Hehe! Watt did you think of that, kupo?!" Horrible puns are horrible. But that didn't stop the Masked Moogle. "That one was on the house, no charge! Or maybe there was a charge.. of the shocking kind, kupo!" She laughed obnoxiously and proudly at her first feat as a superhero, dishing out justice and puns in equal measure. Stepping forward, she picked up her Moogle adornment and attached it back onto her katana before reaching down to drag the shady looking medic up by the back of his scarf and attempting to snatch off his hat to get a better look at her victim.

"What's going on here!" came the call of a tall, broad hyur. A moment later two armored Brass Blades clanked around the corner and into sight. They had been drawn by the sounds of illegal justice. Yimir looked at them with grateful eyes as he wiggled away from Haname as she tried to pull his scarf away. "Officers!" Yimir wheezed. "Help! This crazy person assaulted me!"

"Officers! I'm just doing my due diligence here in helping enforce the law, kupo!" The Masked Moogle claimed, loosening her hold on the scarf though she didn't quite let go of Yimir yet. "There was some criminal activity here, kupo! Arrest this Mi'qote!" Gohan floated itself around, adjusting its hat. "And if worst comes to worst, kupo, officers will make some nice bail money!" The plush piped in.

The hyur and lalafel looked at the scene, then one another, then the two unaware family members. They drew swords and pointed those pointed ends at duo. "Alright you weirdos. I don't know if you are Quicksand fuck buddies or fighting for gil or what, but both of you, drop your weapons, put you your hands in the air, and we'll go down to the station and sort this all out nice and easy. Sound good?" Yimir did not think that sounded good. Not at all. Seriously. He'd just gotten a big ol' Yakuza tattoo on his arms and was willing to wager things would not go well for him. Especially seeing as this was technically terf belonging to a different 'Little Star' and might rub some of his superiors the wrong way, supposing he lasted long enough for word to get out. Brass Blades did have their reputation after all.

"Officers, you got it wrong, kupo! I'm a good person, kupo!" The Masked Moogle threw her hands up defensively. Somehow, she knew it'd go something like this. After all, she had dealt with plenty of Blades before, on Frandrin's payroll or not. And with this knowledge, she knew this would not go down well. She quickly gave another whistle and suddenly, crashing down from the rooftops came a Magitek motorbike. It vroomed and roared and she hopped onto it without a second thought and promptly zoomed off, leaving the Mi'qote to fend for himself.

Yimir covered his head as the Brass Blades threw themselves aside as the bike slammed down onto the earth. A roar of the engines and a moment later the mysterious kupo crusader was gone. Yimir, coughed as a blast of moogle exhaust hit him as he got to his feet. He took a few steps when one of the Blades blew a whistle. The young miqo'te groaned as he turned and waved his hands. A powerful sleep spell slammed into both Blades. But it was too late. Even as the pair of Blades fell over in a heap, the sounds of incoming boots could be heard. Eager to not be here when the Blades arrived, the blonde took off down a long hallway that entered the palace. Soon, the male vanished among the many long, weaving corridors, left only to dwell upon his very strange evening and the very strange silly person out hunting down criminals.

[what-nathan-did]

Pépé le Moko, 1937 - ★★★★

I'm reading a (lovely) history of the poorer, rougher, more marginal sides of Paris as background for a personal project, and topping its introduction is an examination of a scene from this movie, which I'd never heard of before. The title popped up again a few days later as recently-added in TCM's section of the HBO app, and I'm nothing if not a sucker for synchronicity like that.

I'm grateful to have had a place-based lens as my intro to this film, because the romance at its heart seems to me much more a longing for an unattainable place than an unattainable person. As a whirlwind of passion, it works partway, but as a desperate attempt via a person to break out of confinement and return to familiar streets— well I doubt I need explain how much that resonates right now. The set work to believably evoke a real, lived-in location is equally impressive and makes sense through a place-based lens too.

There's a glut of uber-macho crime cinema I find pretty tiresome overall, but this mode goes does smooth every time. The petty criminals and pettier cops are various degrees of slimy, but patiently biding their time and cleverly sliming around one another in a chess match measured in weeks, months, & years, rather than in seconds and bullets. Much more fun imo to have everyone chummily hanging around, waiting for their moment and keeping their daggers sharp, instead of defaulting to blustery shouting matches and steroidal posturing (though there's some of that here too when tempers eventually flare).

Like a lot of 30's film, before the Hays Code dropped a lead blanket on US cinema and limited which non-US films got exposure here, this also often feels surprisingly modern. I can barely slot it in my mind along other films of that decade; it feels so much more contemporary with 1953's The Wages of Fear than Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. It has some unexpected stylistic flourishes too, and comes off as a definite progenitor to both the noir genre and specific later films like Casablanca (the makers of which absolutely must have seen this).

[davina-wolfthorne]

Plot/Story Meme {Davina Wolfthorne}

ONE PLACE

▼ Ala Mhigo | Davina hails from two known families in the city of Ala Mhigo. Mercer, her father’s side, were fishermen who had the luck of the sea on their side. They would bring back large hauls of seafood and sold it to the local taverns and restaurants. Wolfthorne, her mother’s side, ran an apothecary shop named Kindred Grove. While they sold legal medicinal tonics, salves, and whatnot it is their illegal activities that people whispered mostly about. They specialized in poisons. An air of mystery and weariness surrounds the name.

TWO VILLAINS

▼ Primus Pilus Eadmer Blacke | Sadistic, dastardly, ruthless. Three words that barely touch on the psychotic Garlean. He didn’t climb to the rank he did by being a man of gentle means. Eadmer carved out a path of destruction and pain. Cutting down those who dare oppose the Empire’s rule be they a citizen of the Empire or an outsider. When she was seven name days Eadmer came upon a young and rather malnourished Davina. He took her under his care, and tried to persuade her into being a weapon for him. She refused and from that moment on he was nothing but brutal to her. Abusing her emotionally, mentally, and physically he twisted Davina. Tried for many years to break her, but it was her who ruined him. One eve when she was eleven Davina set fire to Manor Blacke. Killing Eadmer’s staff, wife, and children. She is unsure if he died in the blaze or not.

▼ Garleans | Never will she like a Garlean. The list of their sins work too much in their favor in her eyes. She will always loathe them to her dying breath.

THREE RELATIONSHIPS

▼ Davina and V’lerie | An odd pair that is for sure. You may not think much when looking at the Midlander woman and the amazon Seeker but they are very close to one another. V’lerie is a female knight she had met along her travels. The Seeker has proved time and again that she is worthy of Davina’s trust and loyalty.

▼ Davina and Pernilla Carrin | Another woman enslaved to Eadmer Blacke she was the mother hen (of sorts) to the youth in Mr. Blacke’s possession. She felt in charge of them. Teaching them manners and behavior, and doing her absolute best to make sure everyone had full tummies. Davina looked up to her as a mentor. Pernilla was murdered by Eadmer to force Davina into submission.

▼ Davina and Wilfram Stout | When Davina escaped Manor Blacke during the house fire she stumbled through the wilderness. Lost, alone, and wounded she staggered for miles. Her legs were too weak from Eadmer’s punishment that she couldn’t go on and collapsed. A patron of the Jolly Orange Pub found her and took her to the tavern. On the outside it is a cozy tavern that has servers delicious citrus ale and savory fried Dodo wings. Secretly the owner Mr. Stout used the hidden basement as a place of sanctuary for the Ala Mhigan resistance. Anyone needing a reprieve, or that needed to flea from the Garleans, could seek shelter there. Stout would set them up with a new life. When an unconscious Davina was dumped into his lap Wilfram had her wounds tended to. When she awoke she reluctantly told him part of her story. He knew he couldn’t send her off by herself so he gave her a home. Ever since he has been like a father to her.

FOUR ITEMS

▼ A silver flask | Tucked safely away in her jacket Davina always carries this around with her. Made out of silver there are intricate details molded, and etched into its metallic surface. Usually it’s filled with strong bourbon. On the odd occasion she has stashed some wine inside.

▼ Leather boots | Davina is often seen wearing her thigh high leather boots. The material was once a deep ebony hue, but over the years of wear it has lost the luster and is now a faded black. These boots have seen better days, and are rather weathered from her adventures and trials. Yet despite the wrinkles and scuffs she loves them all the same.

▼ A petite cloth bag | This little bag carries several buds of Moko grass, and a small wooden pipe. After stressful situations she sometimes smokes the buds.

▼  Black bandanas | You never know when you will need one. Whether it is to hide your identity, or blow your nose! Davina has two on her at all times. One tucked into her coat, and the other in the side pocket of her pants.

FIVE  CHARACTERS

▼ V’lerie Behr |  On her travels as a resistance fighter Davina met V’lerie Behr. Due to Ms.Behr’s medical curiosity the two clicked. Since then they’ve been close companions. V’lerie is often the sanity that Davina anchors herself to. She brings a sense of logic to the bow mage’s splintered mind.

▼ K’lia Jesal | It was through Sar’nai Borlaaq that Davina met K’lia. A pink haired Seeker who has interest in the magical arts. Davina offered to teach K’lia in the ways of the arcane, and the Miqo’te woman happily agreed. Their bonds are still fresh, but a strong friendship is taking root.

▼ Amphelice Mensen | While under the care of Wilfram Stout Davina worked in the Jolly Orange Pub as a bartender, and sometimes hostess. Amphelice frequented the tavern. Coming in every day that the Pub was open. She would sit at the bar, and keep Davina company during the long work hours. The two often getting so lost in conversation that time would cease to have any meaning. She made work enjoyable. Amphie, an affectionate nickname that Davina gave her, was also a resistance fighter. That made the two bond even more. During the battle to free their city they fought side by side.

▼ Sylvia Stalward | A strong Highlander woman who wielded a great battle axe. These two met while working for Victoria. They grew closer together due to the war. Having each other’s backs, and taking care of one another. Unfortunately she had to sever ties with Sylvia when she left Victoria’s unit. The two still haven’t spoken even after Ala Mhigo’s liberation.

▼ Victoria | Victoria took charge, and created a band of resistance fighters that would go to the limits to free their country. She was beautiful chaos, and proved to be a magnet for Davina. This Highlander fed the bow mage’s darker desires. Tempting her past the morally gray areas. Davina was a soldier for Victoria, but she began to wise up and saw Victoria for who she was. A fanatic willing to risk anyone’s life. Was she prepared to die for her home? Yes, but on her own terms. Not someone else’s. Davina left Victoria’s unit in search for another, and hasn’t seen the woman since.

SIX MOMENTS

▼ Chains | When she was seven the Garleans broke into the Wolfthorne residence, and arrested Davina’s parents for accusations of trying to start an uprising. They took her sisters, and herself, into custody. Using heavy chains to imprison the young girls. It was the first nights of many that Davina has spent in them.

▼ They’re the demons | Danica a young lady of fifteen years and Malena of ten, and herself were taken to a Garlean Encampment right after the raid on their home. Four lonely soldiers took their turn with the virgin Danica. They made Malena and Davina watch the horrors as they savagely abused Danica. Outraged with what they were doing to her sister Davina attempted to conjure a fire. She was still too young to control herself, and flames consumed the camp. Soldiers desperately put out the flames. After the incident a commander found out, and quickly punished the four men for their gruesome acts but damage had been done. The next morning Danica was shipped off to a prominent Primi Ordines. Malena and Davina stayed behind in the camp for months. No one dared touch them after that first night.

▼  To bargain with the Devil | After settling into Blacke Manor Eadmer brought put an offer on the table. He promised her a life of luxury in return for her complete obedience. Davina knew his offer meant that she would have to do morally questionable things, and so she rejected his offer. Enraged by this Eadmer had Davina taken out into the backyard. There he ruthlessly flogged her small bare back before having her confined to living in the slave quarters.

▼ An alternative punishment | For four years Davina remained under Eadmer’s ownership. The last two years she was a slave to his murderous activities. Used as a weapon. The late autumn when she was eleven Davina attempted to escape. At this point she has done this many times before, but this time was different. When Mr. Blacke captured her she fought back, and actually harmed Eadmer. He, of course, responded with an overabundance of physical force. Knocking out the eleven year old girl. Later that afternoon when they arrived at Manor Blacke he had her fastened to the whipping post. However, this time a flogging wasn’t the punishment. Instead he had a talented doctor carve a knife into her legs. Cutting and tearing into the flesh, but ensuring that most of the muscles and tendons were intact. This left every lasting marks on her legs.

▼ Embers in the night | Not even a full week after Eadmer had Davina’s legs carved up she set into motion a rather bold plan. In the middle of the night as everyone slumbered Davina set fire to the Manor. Monstrous flames consumed the estate. Trapping and burning Eadmer’s wife, his children, and some of his relatives. During the chaos Davina freed the other slaves and herself. Praying that Blacke was dead as she fled the estate grounds.

▼ A bittersweet victory | Davina was on the frontlines of the battle in Ala Mhigo when the warrior of light, the citizens of Eorzea, and Othard poured into the city. She had been apart of its resistance movement for many years, and she wasn’t about to miss out on its liberation from Garlean rule. For many years she struggled through the pain, the setbacks, and the victories that came with the resistance and when they achieved their goal she was there. Among the crowd of soldiers and citizens. It was bittersweet for her. She was more than glad to have Ala Mhigo free of the Empire, but her family wasn’t with her to savor it.

SEVEN QUOTES

▼ “I am fearless because I’ve been afraid. I am wise because I’ve been foolish. I am strong because I’ve been weak.”

▼ “People do the right things for the wrong reasons. Some do the wrong things for the right reasons. Perfection, beauty, right, wrong, it is all relative to the position you’re standing in.”

▼ “Whelp time to go make some bad choices.” <- This is usually spoken after she had a long day, and is filling up her flask for about the third time.

▼ “Sometimes not even I can carry my own sins.”

▼ “Faith in gods is so fickle. One minute you can be the most saintly person you know, but some time down the road you’ll ignore said gods to bathe in sinful deeds.”

▼ “I’m going to the deepest of the seven hells in a handbasket, but I am determined to have company on that long journey.”

▼ “My mind is like a cracked mirror. Mainly whole but there are pieces that are fragmented and several bits missing. You can still see the majority of your reflection, but it isn’t whole.”

TAGGED BY - @duskhorned (Not directly, but under tags it said anyone who sees it so! Thank you for this :D It was fun to fill out)

TAGGING - Since I am short on time right now I cannot tag anyone individually. SOOOO anyone who sees this please fill it out because I am tagging you :D 

[unrcality]

                    ❝    nngh...    nommi...?    ❞

                    as  soon  as  the  demon  hears  the  sound  of  his  name,  his  eyes  turn  to  the  other  currently  laid  on  the  bed  where  she’s  been  for  hours.    he  had  returned  home  to  find  her  outside  on  the  grass,  barely  breathing  and  trembling  horribly.    he  hasn’t  left  her  side  since,  and  to  see  her  finally  awake  is  a  relief  to  him.    slowly,  he  rises  from  his  seat,  approaching  the  bed  and  sitting  down  by  her  so  she’s  aware  of  his  presence  properly.    a  hand  sticks  out,  searching  blindly  for  him,  and  for  a  while  all  he  does  is  watch  as  her  fingers  pat  along  the  sheets,  finding  his  wrist  eventually  and  almost  clawing  at  it,  although  weakly,  and  a  soft  hiss  leaves  her  when  they  make  contact,  making  her  hand  jerk  back.

                    ❝    i’m  right  here,  moko.    ❞                     ❝    what...    what  happened...?    ❞

                    ❝    i  was  hoping  you  would  be  able  to  tell  me  that.    ❞

                    she  stays  quiet  for  a  bit,  the  hand  now  staying  on  the  bed  as  her  unfocused  eyes  try  to  find  the  wall  to  look  at  instead  of  anywhere  else.    noname  narrows  his  eyes  a  bit.    he’s  already  questioned  tokimo  once  she  had  become  aware  of  moko’s  state,  considering  the  two  being  of  the  same  category...    what  she  had  told  him  is  concerning,  but  at  the  same  time,  he  has  already  thought  of  that  being  the  reason  when  he  had  found  her.

                    ❝    let’s  not  focus  on  that  right  now...    i  think  i  know.    ❞                     ❝    there’s...    nothing  i  can  do  about  it...    i’m  sorry...    ❞

                    noname  lets  out  a  soft  sigh,  knowing  she’s  right  about  it.    he  then  reaches  out  to  pet  her  shoulder,  but  a  jarring  scream  leaves  her  when  the  contact  is  made,  causing  him  to  hop  up  onto  his  feet  and  take  several  steps  back  with  wide  eyes.    never  has  he  seen  her  in  such  a  state...    he’s  been  informed  of  the  love  sickness  amongst  pleasurers,  but  never  to  such  extreme  extents.    he  never  even  imagined  it  could  be  this  bad.    the  touch  of  anyone  that’s  not  the  desired  one  can  cause  more  damage  than  the  condition  itself,  and  after  a  long  moment  of  silence,  only  the  soft  whimpers  of  moko  filling  the  room,  he  takes  his  book  slowly,  as  if  sudden  movements  will  make  it  even  worse.

                    usually,  he  would  hear  the  other  demon  beg  him  to  stay.    she’s  lonely  at  heart,  and  he  knows  such,  but  the  quiet  is  almost  eerie  as  he  stands  in  the  doorway,  and  if  it  wasn’t  for  her  choked  sound,  he  would  have  walked  off  to  the  living  room  instead.    he  approaches  the  bed  once  more,  making  sure  to  keep  his  distance  and  not  come  in  contact  with  her  body  as  she  struggles  to  breathe.

                    ❝    t-tell  me  what  i  need  to  do,  moko...    ❞    he  begs  quietly.                     only  after  she’s  managed  to  wheeze  and  catch  her  breath                     does  she  reply,    ❝    th-there’s...    nothing...    you  can  do...    ❞

                    he  knows  she’s  right.    he  knows  there’s  truly  nothing  he  or  anyone  can  do  about  this.    it’s  a  sickness  that  takes  hold  like  terminal  cancer  to  a  human;    impossible  to  cure,  unless  what  she  desires  is  given  to  her.    it’s  the  punishment  bestowed  upon  her  kind  to  avoid  them  falling  in  love...    but  for  it  to  happen  to  her  with  her  current  newfound  immortality...?    it’ll  be  worse.    when  he  leaves  her  in  the  room,  closing  the  door  quietly  behind  him,  he  barely  registers  tokimo  approaching  him.    she  asks  him  about  moko’s  health,  clearly  hearing  her  coughing  and  gagging,  but  noname  can  do  nothing  but  stare  at  the  air  in  front  of  him.    it’s  a  heavy  and  horrible  feeling  that  settles  upon  his  shoulders,  and  he  walks  past  the  smaller  demon  with  his  grip  on  the  book  so  tight  his  knuckles  turn  paler  than  his  skin  already  is.    he  feels  nauseous.    too  many  emotions  have  surfaced--    much  like  how  he  felt  when  coming  to  terms  with  how  he  felt  for  black  hands.    he  knows  what  it  is;    knows  it’s  the  pain  of  knowing  what  waits  ahead  if  things  are  to  continue  like  this,  and  he’s  battling  his  overprotective  tendencies  with  the  decency  to  respect  other’s  boundaries  and  personal  space...    is  this  something  he  should  inform  aldono  of?    will  that  just  stir  more  of  this?    he’s  truly  unable  to  find  a  solution,  and  as  he  walks  down  the  stairs,  he  finds  it  too  hard  to  really  stay  within  the  house,  making  his  way  to  the  spot  he  found  moko;    where  she  stays  most  of  the  time  enjoying  the  air  and  the  weather.    there,  he  sits  down,  trying  to  figure  out  just  what  makes  her  so  peaceful  when  there...

                                          how  does  she  not  drown  in  thoughts?

[lesbiandanieljacobi]

Greatness (And It’s Strange)

This is a redux of Not Given Lightly, a FlashWave Week fic of mine. Title from You’re Welcome, because as many problems as I have with how they wrote Maui in that movie, I couldn’t resist the reference. ( @katyakora I did it! The Mick Is Maui fic!)

AO3 Link

The being they now call Mick Rory is old, his bones worn down with years and ages and tasks and prayers and stories. He has lived lifetimes, borne hopes on his broad shoulders, dragged safety from the depths.

He is also tired. 

So tired, in fact, that he leaves his home, the land he created, and wakes in the body of a young man sitting in the ashes of his home. The being they now call Mick Rory might also be deliberately ignoring his True Name, and all the baggage that goes with it. He goes to Juvie, he finds the threads that maps where the arc of his life will lead,  and then trips over Tyche in the body of a little, pretty, thief. Who is, naturally, getting the shit kicked out of him.

“Lucky you found me.” says Tyche, who’s going by Lenny Snart, and Mick seriously considers using the shiv he just stole off one of Lenny’s attackers to stab him himself because that was a terrible pun. He doesn’t, in the end. It’s the best decision Mick’s ever made.

They spend thirty odd years together, him and Mick, and Mick loves every second of it, every heist, every robbery, every crackling fire. He loves every moment of the two of them side by side, taking on the world. He loves every kiss, every chance to hold Lenny close.

Then the particle accelerator explodes, right over the Gateway, and the Old comes rushing back into the world.

“Fuck.” says Mick, but Lenny’s grinning, alive with opportunity.

For nine months, it looks like Mick is getting away scot-free. For nine months, nothing untoward happens. For nine months, Mick is fine.

Then the streets fill with lightning, and Mick knows his time in the shadows is coming to an end.

Len, damn him, thinks Tamanuitera makes a worthy adversary in the game he’s been playing for millennia, and Mick throws himself into denial twice over – once, because he will not take back is old identity and once more because his old adversary looks damn good in the vessel he’s chosen and the skintight leather suit favors. Mick does his best to keep his old self under wraps – he covered his ta moko in burn scars years ago, and he covers his divinity with lack of use, he covers his old attachments under layers of dust. He lies low, and he waits. Lenny brings in his sister, Golden Lisa, so that she can lure and trap Tamanuitera’s allies, find out more about his nemesis. The game draws on. Tamanuitera convinces Luck himself that he could play the fall of the dice to a different outcome in a warm and cozy living room two days before a holiday none of them really celebrate. 

Then Rip Hunter offers them a place on his ship, a chance to be legends. Mick bites back his laugh, refrains from saying that he’s always been a legend, and takes the out for what it is, a chance to get away from Him, from the responsibilities always biting at his heels. Mick loses his Luck at the end of time to an explosion he was going to sacrifice himself in. There’s a ring in his pocket and a wink in his memory and even the fact that Luck follows you isn’t enough to help at all. He drinks to forget Len’s blue eyes. It doesn’t help. He tries to die to forget Len’s warmth at his back, in his bed. It doesn’t work, and that helps even less. His Luck is gone, and he is purposeless.

They land in 2017 to fight aliens, and He is all those aliens are looking for. Mick watches Him start to walk away, ready to turn himself in, watches a worn-down man with a worn-down soul who would one day be numbered next to greatness call out in desperation and ask Him to stop. Mick watches Tamanuitera walk away, and thinks that at last, even without his Luck, he might be at peace. 

Mick watches Tamanuitera walk away, and feels something stirring in his chest that hasn’t moved in a long time.  The threads move and pull in front of his eyes, showing him what will happen if he lets Tamanuitera walk away, if he lets Barry walk away.

They like to say that those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Here is the deepest secret nobody knows: all moments are repeating stories with different casts, all things have happened before and will happen again. Mick knows this. Lenny, his Luck, knew this. When the Sun departs too quickly, tasks that must be completed are never finished. If the Flash leaves now, the Justice League will never assemble, and the world will end before its time.

The Sun needs slowing. And there is one person who has done that successfully.

Second verse, same as the first, right?

“You and what army, Oliver?” asks Barry. Mick knows the answer to that. When Oliver opens his mouth to reply, Mick speaks over him.

“He doesn’t need an army. He has me.”

Barry turns in surprise, eyebrows shooting to his hairline.

“You do remember I’ve beaten you more that once, right, Heatwave?” Barry says the name like it’s a taunt, like it’s something Mick should be ashamed of. Heatwave is something his Luck gave him. Mick will never be ashamed of it. Mick grins and shakes off the taunt.

“We’re not playing the same game as we were, Flash.” Mick shoots back. “You’re not leaving.”

“I leave, and the Dominators leave us alone.” Barry says. Mick rolls his eyes. Barry Allen is idealistic and shiny and truthful and pure and good. Mick needs to get past Barry Allen to make his point. Barry turns his back and starts to walk away once more.

“Tamanuitera!” Mick roars. His voice echoes around the warehouse.

“What the fuck.” says Ramon, and Barry turns, surprised.

“What did you call me?” he asks.

“Tamanuitera.” repeats Mick, only marginally softer. Barry stiffens.

“That’s what –“ he starts.

“Who the hell do you think he is!” yelps Ramon.

“He’s talking to the Speedforce.” says Barry. “How do you know how to talk to the Speedforce?”

Mick grins.

“We’ve met.” Mick tells him. “Once before, in ages past. You are not leaving, Tamanuitera. This is your place, and your time. I will not let you dictate the length of our time in the Sun.”

Barry’s face twists. Mick reaches into the space between this world and the next and pulls. The ropes come with ease, the jawbone all-bar flies into his hand.

Mick might have been neglecting his duties for too long, but that will end now. The world pulls and shifts, and Mick can feel his ta moko twining over his skin, over the scars that made him who he was in this world. Judging by the gasp from behind him, his shirt’s gone and everyone assembled can see. The rope curls out from his hand, wraps around Barry’s waist, tight and strong. Barry wriggles and fights and pulls.

“Taura nui, taura roa, taura kaha, taura toa, taura here i a Tamanuiterā, whakamaua kia mau kia ita!” murmurs Mick, voice level and strong.

Last time he did this, he had help, had brothers. Without them, Mick’s feet skid across the floor when Barry tries to run.

“Taura nui, taura roa, taura kaha, taura toa, taura here i a Tamanuiterā, whakamaua kia mau kia ita!”

Barry writhes and pulls and flashes with lightning. Mick holds tight, holds fast. He remembers this story. He knows how it must end

“Taura nui, taura roa, taura kaha, taura toa, taura here i a Tamanuiterā, whakamaua kia mau kia ita!” 

Someone steps up to Mick’s left. It’s Cisco, his eyes haunted with the remnants of the lifetimes Mick has lived, with the lifetime Cisco knows he himself will lead. Mick looks down at the rope in his hands, watches as Cisco reaches down and wraps his hands around it, adds his unshaking optimism, his hope, his passion, his pain to the power flowing through Mick and the rope thanks to the karakia.

“Taura nui, taura roa, taura kaha, taura toa, taura here i a Tamanuiterā, whakamaua kia mau kia ita!” they chant, voices doubled and stronger, holding Barry in place. Mick’s feet skate across the floor more slowly.

“Taura nui, taura roa, taura kaha, taura toa, taura here i a Tamanuiterā, whakamaua kia mau kia ita!”

Oliver is at Mick’s right, calloused hands comfortable on the woven ropes in the way only one who has woven their like can be, pushing his pain, his uncertainty, his fear and strength and loss under Mick’s skin. Then Joe’s work-worn hands, sure and steady from years of keeping his temper under the weight of the expectations of others, Iris, vibrant and glowing with the will of the young, Wally, strong with the determination of a student clinging to a favored teacher. Here is Jax, lit from within with belief and trust, Thea and her fear and her darkness and her power, Ray and his earnestness, Kara and her unwavering love. Barry pulls and thrashes and gasps and they do not move, none of them.

“Taura nui, taura roa, taura kaha, taura toa, taura here i a Tamanuiterā, whakamaua kia mau kia ita!”

Maui releases the rope, leaves it to those who love Barry, and draws the jawbone from its place at his waist, and brings it down hard against Tamanuitera’s shoulder.

“Why are you doing this to me?” asks Tamanuitera.

Second verse, same as the first.

“From now on, you will travel slowly across the sky, and never again will the length of our day be dictated by you.” Maui replies.

All moments are just stories repeating, recast.

The world twists, pulls, moves. In the corner of Maui’s eye, Tyche, blue glowing and beautiful with eyes of ice, smiles a true smile.

Barry staggers, and falls slack in the noose of the rope, and Mick’s hand falls slack at his side, jawbone still clutched in his grip. They regard each other for a moment, Maui and Tamanuitera, Mick and Barry, Heatwave and the Flash, two men with one lifetime behind and another ahead, two men who were hiding from seeking sorrow. 

“You will have your Golden Age, then.” says Tamanuitera. “You will have your Sun.”

Maui smiles with the pain of loss.

“I would rather have my Luck. Both My Sun and I did always prefer him, and I am not fond of being the consolation prize.”

“That’s a lie.” says Barry Allen, says Tamanuitera, eyes wide like saucers. “You are far from a consolation prize.”

Mick Rory stares back, shocked. Barry shrugs off the ropes, wraps his hands around Mick’s face, pulls him down until their lips meet. 

“My Sun.” says Mick, says Maui, when they part. “Mine, tamed and caught.”

Barry smiles, and the sun breaks through the clouds.

[k0nahrik]

Multiples of 3

Ok so I just chose a random OC to answer this for, it's gonna be for Hemonga 3 - Their greatest achievementHemonga's greatest personal achievement would be his promotion to company captain, after being a member of the Red Brethren for many years he was worried he would never see his original company again. Being made captain let him reconnect with his roots6 - How they deal with griefBeing a space marine means that Hemonga has been indoctrinated to deal with grief differently to humans, but being that anybody he cares about is also actually a space marine and the most likely way they would die is by being slain in combat, Hemonga would probably feel anger and a desire to avenge his fallen brother.9 - Their themeI assume this means tumblr theme, but since that doesn't exist in 40k I'll just describe his aesthetics instead. Naturally his skin is white and eyes are only black, his teeth ground to points. Covering most of his body are swirling exile marking tattoos, which cover his face, chest, back, arms and legs. These are similar in design to the Ta-Moko tattoos of the Maori on earth. His quarters are furnished fairly plainly - a huge bed to accommodate his frame with plain white sheets. A stand for his armour, and a small locker for his scarce personal possessions. There is a bay window that overlooks his ship's bridge. the walls and floor are solid stoney grey. There is a desk with a holoprojecter displaying a live graphic of the ship, allowing Hemonga to manage to ship from his quarters if need be. The only notable decorations of the room are a set of shark jaws suspended above the bed, and the ceiling - which is made of glass, and actually acts as an aquarium for the sharks that the Carcharadons keep as pets. This feature causes the room to always be cast in a dim, eerie, blue-green light that shifts with the water.12 - Their romantic lifeHemonga is a space marine so he's been indoctrinated to not feel any romantic feelings. If he ever felt any before his engineering into an astartes - that person is long dead, they would have been taken as a slave along with the rest of the planet's population while Hemonga was taken as an astartes aspirant. Hemonga is over 400 years old, and if any romantic interests he may have had were taken to serve aboard Carcharadon ships, they would have died by now.15 - How they react to brainfreezeI'm not entirely sure if astartes can even experience brainfreeze, but if he ever did, i imagine he'd screw up his face and suck it up18 - How they sleep Hemonga doesn't need to sleep often, but when he does he prefers to split his sleep into periods of two to four hours, so that he never misses too much. When sleeping Hemonga breathes quietly, lying on his side so that he can get up easily should the need arise. Dreaming for astartes is rare, and has only happened a handful of times for Hemonga since he was made into a Carcharadon.21 - How they react to painHemonga has been fighting battles for the last four centuries, and is well accustomed to feeling the pain of battle. When injured Hemonga can grit his teeth and keep fighting. His advanced body heals many wounds extremely quickly.24 - What motivates themHemonga is motivated by his own nature, as astartes were built to serve and fight for the imperium. Hemonga is touched by the Blindness, and sometimes in particularly fierce battles is driven on solely by the desire to kill the enemy. Hemonga has been described as the most murderous of all the Carcharadons captains. He tries to keep the Blindness in check as his impulse to charge into combat with no regard for his own safety is dangerous.