#his resilience and pride would kick back in

[that-guy-sleepy-miles]

is there an actual reason why Red King can’t stay awake? Or is she just kinda like that in this au?

Red Son is a demon whose resilience exceeds anything else's truly. He'll get upset, he'll get hurt, you can knock him down, left, right, and sideways, but he always, always gets back up again. He refuses to let the world best him for two full seconds—one and a half is more than enough, thank you.

But something like this gives the idea that if you actually managed to push down Red Son, he'd stay down. For a while. (Further exploration in the tags)

He's always been a rather dramatic boy, so he supposes it's just in his nature to overreact like this. They're going to get his father back, obviously, but Mother’s behavior has been too much to bear, and even moving away and settling in his own territory hasn't quelled his despair.

If conquering can't fix it, what can? God, how he wishes he could go to bed and wake up the next morning better. Sleeping it off would be so much preferable to this unending tiredness…

[mpreglover225]

In the labor ward of Manhattan's all-male birthing center, Kyle was the epitome of youthful resilience amidst the raw intensity of childbirth. A college student caught in the unexpected tide of early fatherhood, he clung to the side rails of the hospital bed, his face a canvas of pain and determination. Nico, his steadfast friend, remained by his side, offering sips of water and words of encouragement.

"Almost there, Kyle. You're doing great," Nico reassured him, wiping the sweat from Kyle's brow with a cool cloth.

"It feels like they've been trying to kick their way out for hours," Kyle grunted, another contraction seizing him with merciless strength. The absence of pain relief was a harsh reality, his allergy to medication leaving him no choice but to endure.

In the waiting room, the prospective parents, Michael and David, paced with a mix of anxiety and excitement. They had flown in from New York at the first sign of labor, ready to welcome the twins into their lives. Every so often, a nurse would update them, their anticipation growing with each passing hour.

Back in the delivery room, the first twin made his entrance into the world. A beautiful, wriggling boy with lungs as strong as his brother still waiting to arrive. Kyle's cries mixed with the baby's, a symphony of new life that filled the room. Nico cut the cord, a gesture of their deep platonic bond, and handed the newborn to the nurse who wrapped him snugly.

"You have a son," Nico said, tears of joy in his eyes.

"I have two, almost," Kyle replied with a tired smile, the pain subsiding momentarily as he gazed at his firstborn before the nurse took him to be cleaned.

An hour later, amidst renewed cries of effort and encouragement, the second twin emerged. Another boy, equally fierce and eager as his brother. As they placed the second baby in Kyle's arms, his exhaustion was eclipsed by a sense of awe. He had done it, despite the pain, the fear, and the uncertainty.

Nico looked on with pride. "You're amazing, Kyle. They're perfect."

The door opened softly, and Michael and David entered, their faces alight with the joy of instant parenthood. They approached the bedside, their eyes meeting Kyle's — a silent thank you for the gift of family he had given them.

In the hours that followed as the twins were examined and found to be healthy, a quiet peace settled over the room. Kyle, spent from the ordeal finally succumbed to sleep. When he woke Nico was sitting beside him watching netflix. Michael and David left with the newborns once given the all clear from the doctors. It seemed cruel to the nurses but Kyle had requested for Michael, David and the twins to leave the hospital when he was asleep to help with a non emotional departure.

[trentknd]

"What do I do?" Trent mouthed in desperation while pointing at the little kid on his lap. You were both sitting under the garden's gazebo, enjoying some privacy from the garden party your mom had organised when your niece suddenly crept on your lover.

You laugh at his sheepishness and shrug your shoulders. "Your problem, not mine." You took a last bite from the meat on the skewer you were holding before getting up to help your mother clean up. "I'll be back soon, don't accidentally kill the child."

"No, no, no. Don't leave me here with her."

"She's not going to bite you, Trent." He turned his head to find the little girl giving him a toothy smile, albeit missing a few teeth. "She's allowed to though." You smile at him before leaving him with the tiny terror in a pink dress.

The little girl, that was around the size of the chair Trent was sitting on, started tugging lightly on his shirt. "Can you play with me, Uncle Trent?" She pouted, her small plastic tiara slightly falling off the top of her head.

"What do you want to play?" He asked and brought his fingers up to place the crown back on top. Her eyes resembled yours a lot, he thought. They were twinkling with a sort of mischievousness and purely melted his heart at the instant. The child could ask him to go to war right now and he'd probably gear himself up for it.

"Football!" She got up from his lap to show him the wee lilac ball she had brought up with her. He got up from his seat, eager to witness the little princess' skill at his sport.

"Princesses play football?"

"Better than you."

"Ah, I see." He grinned at her insolence as she held her head up in pride. "Show me what you got, then." At his words, she put the ball down on the grass and positioned herself behind it.

Her first kick led to the ball hitting him surprisingly hard on his chest. "Alright, let us do some passes to each other first?" When he saw her frown, he doubled down on his offer "Or you can kick the ball in any way you want it and I'll make sure to catch it."

Gathering that she preferred the latter, he held his hands up as soon as the child kicked the ball again. Her bubblegum pink attire and the glittery sneakers she was wearing formed an odd contrast with the force she was displaying playing the ball.

He appreciated her resilience through all the small games and skills she was learning from him. He wouldn't admit to you that he had accidentally hit her head several times whilst trying to teach her to juggle with the ball.

After going at it for a couple of minutes, Trent decided to switch it up and teach her some of his personal skills. "So I'm going to throw the ball and you're just going to stop it with the tip of your foot, okay?"

"Uncle Trent, I'm getting tired." She yawned at his plan, tiredness seeping through her tiny body. He nodded at her complaint and scooped her up to avoid letting her tire herself further.

Her figure was laying atop his upper body, his strong arms rounding her legs to secure her position. He would occasionally bounce her up and down, hearing that it caused her laughter to loudly erupt in his ear.

He didn't notice that you had been back from cleaning for the past fifteen minutes and fell spectator to his attachment to the small human. You didn't want to disrupt them at first, too entranced in his tremendous efforts to put away his shyness to make your niece happy in any capacity.

"Hey, she's not Robbo, you know?" You peeped from your concealed spot under the gazebo. He turned his head in surprise, your eyes matching the twinkle he had noticed in the child he was holding. "Training her to exhaustion at five years old and that."

His laugh reverberated in the small space you were standing on and you stuck your arms out to take her back from him. He reluctantly gave her back to you, waving her goodbye when she frowned at the separation.

You brought your niece up in your arms to cradle her and slightly rocked her, careful not to startle her. Your paramour stood next to you, an arm snaked around your waist, wearing a pensive expression. At that moment, your niece chose to tear him out of his thoughts by holding her hand up, waiting for him to match her action and high-five her. "Thank you for playing with me, Uncle Trent."

Her hand looked ridiculously small next to his, and she missed his high-five the first time before he finally clapped her hand back. His face was curiously intentive at the whole interaction, your heart swelling at the sight of him holding up her hand to kiss her knuckles.

"C'mon my love, we're leaving, yeah?" You heard your sibling scream to the kid in your arms. You walked out of the gazebo to join the rest of the guests, eventually spotting them in the bunch. After dropping your niece in their hands, and chatting out with the rest of the leaving invites, you went back to your beloved.

"You're not so bad with kids, you know." You beamed at him and he mimicked your earlier shrug to argue back in false modesty. Though, other words were put on his lips to mutter when he lowered his head to your ear.

"I'll make sure to put one in you tonight."

[tintinwrites]

almost in your arms | Din Djarin x Reader

A/N: I’ve been in such a Din mood!!

Rating: T, it only gets implied spicy

Warning: Reader is gender neutral, no pronouns or specific body parts mentioned! Canon-typical action. Suggestive material. Helmetless!Mando. A bit of angst ok

Word Count: 1,599, apparently!!

Summary: Din enjoys a summer day with you.

GIF Credit: ^^^^

The grass was yellow from its time in the glaring sun with a lack of water, but it was still soft and pliable enough that the light breeze that ran across it could easily bend it out of its way. Trees dotted around the wide, open field were a stark green in contrast, but they, too, had to oblige and let the wind rustle their leaves.

A tiny chorus of birds chirped from a branch nearby, met by a louder, more songlike chirp; a mother, quieting her inexperienced young with mouthfuls of food. Aside from birdsong and rustled plantlife, there wasn’t a sound to be heard.

Din had no reason to be alert, but he was. The nearly wheat like-grass — its resemblance in color and seed could not forgive its, at best, ankle height — was all that could be pictured as far as the eye could see, with a tree here or a resilient smattering of wildflowers there. No one could possibly sneak up on him here. No creature could hide, nor could a human step lightly enough to go unheard.

Yet still, he listened closely and let his gaze roam every inch of the expansive field.

Suddenly he heard the sound of grass being crunched beneath someone’s boot, but he couldn’t fully turn around before there was a grip around his neck and a weight slamming against his back that had him falling forward.

He grunted as he hit the ground, but he was quick enough to fling off his assailant before they could pin him fully, turning onto his back. He grabbed onto an ankle and started to drag the body towards him, but the other foot came to kick him in the crook of his arm and his reflexes demanded that his fingers release their grip.

He made another swipe, but strong legs wrapped around his upper arm and yanked, sending him face first into grass and dirt again. He felt weight crawling over his shoulders and onto his back, hands under his ribs trying to flip him over. He struggled a bit onto his hands and knees and heard a yelp as the weight went tumbling off him.

This time, despite finding himself a bit worn out, he pinned a wrist to the ground to keep his attacker from gathering their bearings and getting up. He used said wrist to flip the person onto their front, twisting an arm behind a back and straddling their hips.

The wriggling in an attempt at freedom nearly made him laugh, but he pressed his lips tightly together.

After a moment the body under him went still and he heard panting of exhaustion.

“You give up?”

No response, too prideful and dignified, but the free hand came up to blindly pat the side of his thigh.

He grinned to himself and released your arm, swinging his leg up to move off of you. He just sat in the grass, supported by his hands behind him, watching as you sat up with a pout and rubbed your arm.

“It’s definitely broken.” You stretched it out and winced.

“It’s just stiff, I barely bent it.” He would never twist your arm far enough to injure you; he’d stop before he even felt any resistance, not wanting to push its mobility. “I go easy on you. A real attacker wouldn’t care if they broke your arm.”

“I’m starting to think you don’t care either.” You didn’t mean it, he knew you were just sad that you still couldn’t best him. He’d been training you here and there for a while and you were obviously a skilled fighter, but he had years of experience.

He relented with a sigh. “Would it help if I told you that you nearly got me a couple times?”

“Yes!” You immediately smiled at him, then your face softened and you moved closer to him, brushing some dirt off his nose.

He leaned into your touch like he always did, like it was the first time he’d felt it as if he hadn’t married you all those months ago where he first felt the gentleness of your fingertips. He couldn’t help it; being touched could never get old when one lived without it for as long as he did.

But you touched him every day because you loved it too. With you, he was safe. He could feel hands on his skin, the sun warming his cheeks, the breeze messing with his hair.

And lips, there on his temple, soft and loving, with your voice murmuring against it teasingly, “I was too rough with you, old man.”

“Only because I let you,” he teased back in that nearly serious tone he’d long perfected.

You sighed dramatically and started to pull away with a fake pout, but he quickly grabbed you back and kissed you fully on the lips. It didn’t take long for you to melt into his chest, it never did.

You shared a few kisses there with nothing between you but clothes. No helmet, no armor, just scraps of cloth because it was just the two of you and no one would come to bother you.

Each kiss became gentler than the last until you both needed to really breathe, and you just sat there halfway in his lap with your arms around his neck, smiling at each other.

“You look cute after I fight you.” A blush would still spread across his cheeks when you complimented his appearance, he was so unused to it.

“I never look cute.” He scowled to save face like you didn’t know him so well now.

“No, really! When you’re all sweaty and your hair’s a mess and you remind me how big and strong you are…” Your gaze had a darkness to it that he’d become familiar with. “It really gets me going.”

“Here?” That blush could be seen from his neck to his ears, and probably lower beneath his clothes.

You shrugged, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “We could go back to the house, but doesn’t it seem so far away?”

He was on you in an instant, pinning you beneath a tree, and he delighted in the laugh that escaped you as you hit the ground. He matched your grin with his own before he met your eyes, slowly leaning in for a kiss.

But something green distracted him and he looked up to see Grogu peeking from behind the tree, letting out a happy coo when he saw his father. “Come on, kid…”

You furrowed your brow before craning your neck to see the little guy and you laughed, sitting up as Din begrudgingly slid off you. “Oh, you little devil! You were napping!” You moved onto your knees and pulled the baby into your lap once he toddled over to you.

The house was hidden perfectly behind one of the trees, so you weren’t too far should he have needed you.

He was too curious about what the two of you were doing to stay put when he woke up from his nap, evidently.

While Din was a little disappointed that you were interrupted, he watched fondly as the little guy that became his son cooed at you, trying to hold a conversation with his unintelligible babbles while you listened intently as if you understood every word.

“Mando?” He lifted his gaze to find you were now staring at him.

“You know you can call me Din now.” He smiled a bit at your strangeness, but it faltered when you just kept staring.

“Mando, wake up.” Your voice sounded close, like you were speaking into his ear. But you were still sitting across from him.

“What?” The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck prickled as everything started to blur around the edges, turning black. He called your name, scrambling to his feet, trying to grab onto you and Grogu as you faded. “Wait!”

“Mando!”

He woke up with a start and found you stumbling with a gasp into the control panel of the ship, staring at him with wide eyes. You were muted through the visor of his helmet, there was no sun or hands on his face…just the pressure of his helmet.

No birds. Just the hum of the ship, where he’d fallen asleep in the cockpit like usual.

“That must have been some nightmare…you almost took me out with your helmet.” You moved back to him now that you weren’t in danger of a concussion, smiling.

“Yeah…nightmare…” he said distantly, realizing that he’d been dreaming and he was still in all his armor and you were just his companion.

“I was just coming to ask how long it’ll be until we get there.”

It took him a moment to fully come back to himself. “Where?”

“To get the quarry…?”

“...right.” He leaned forward to look at the coordinates for a moment. “We’re less than an hour out. We’ll…we’ll find something to eat too.”

“Oh, good. You know, Grogu found some bolt that fell off something and tried to eat it? Part of me thinks he took it off something himself.” You were leaving the cockpit as you told him this with amusement, and he turned to just watch as you disappeared.

The dream felt so real, like he really did allow himself to get closer to you, to let his feelings grow, to marry someone like you, to settle down somewhere quiet and peaceful…but he knew the truth. He knew his fate.

A life like that would only ever be a dream for him.

[shepherds-of-haven]

How resilient are the ROs in a fight? Like who can take a beating and get up and keep fighting?

Pretty much all of the Shepherds who regularly face combat can take an ass-kicking and can get back up: that's pretty much a prerequisite of the job, if you're a Lunar Corps agent! If you're asking me to rate it on a scale, it'd probably be:

Blade - Briony (tied for most physically durable with most amount of stamina) - also tied with Halek (blood-rage mode: will literally keep fighting until something knocks him out or kills him, but that's not really in his control... also in his berserker state, he doesn't feel pain or tiredness, so... yeah. Some Hunters have had their hearts stop because the blood-rage removes their "limiters" and pushes their bodies too far)

Trouble - Ayla (spiritual resilience rivals that of Blade or Briony, even if physical endurance is slightly less: they'll DIE fighting on their feet or not at all)

Chase - maniac who doesn't really feel fear and exhibits extreme physical resilience and a surprising amount of stubbornness (but also often displays enough good sense to retreat if something looks hopeless). I guess if you're asking how long he can withstand torture or a beating, he's probably at the top of the list, but if you're asking how long will he keep picking himself up *to continue fighting*, he knows when to beat a tactical retreat when it's looking hopeless rather than sticking around to get whaled on. The first five don't have that trait

Lavinet - tough-ass lady who will keep going, bloodied and haggard, no matter what, but her overall "limit" is still beneath Chase's before her body quits on her

Tallys - high physical endurance and resistance to pain, but prefers a more cautious approach and would prefer to lay down arms and figure out a way to escape rather than continually just throwing everything she has into a fight if they're kicking the absolute shit out of her

Red - he can take an ass-kicking, but asking him to endlessly keep swinging through it is kind of tough lol

Shery - Riel (Shery: the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. I actually used to think Shery was cowardly, but I'm coming to find out that she's mentally and emotionally tougher than I gave her credit for, and I think she'd be able to withstand getting beat up without breaking or surrendering if it was really important! This could also come from being bullied as a child. But she certainly wouldn't be able to pick herself up and keep on fighting, she'd just 'endure' silently before passing out or fainting from the pain! Riel: he has a high enough pain tolerance and mental resilience to laugh in the face of people kicking the shit out of him or torturing him physically--his pride wouldn't allow him to react much--but physical frailty and inexperience to people putting hands on him would mean it wouldn't take very much to fuck him up lol, that guy's never been in a fight before, even the idea of him putting his fists up makes me laugh-cry-scream, it feels very wrong)

[growthgoddess]

Sunrise' Substantial Size

Sunrise stood by the door, her eyes scanning the perimeter for any possible threat. Conrad Grayson emerged from his office, carrying a briefcase and wearing a pleasant smile.

"Good morning, Sunrise," Conrad greeted her.

"Good morning, sir," Sunrise replied, her status as a bodyguard remaining professional and serious.

Conrad chuckled. "Loosen up, Sunrise, you're stiffening up. If you keep this up, you'll be sore all afternoon! A smile would also brighten up your 'sunny' demeanor."

Conrad light-heartedly pat Sunrise on the back. He was pretty proud of himself for giving her the codenamed she used now.

Sunrise remained expressionless, but a small part of her heart fluttered at the thought of Conrad caring about her well-being. Her codename was something she also carried with pride for it was not the agency that picked it for her, but Conrad himself.

They had been like this ever since she was assigned to be his bodyguard since they were young. Sunrise had slowly developed feelings for her boss' kind-hearted and supportive nature.

But she knew that her love is one that could not be. So instead, she devoted her life to her duty - his protection. To keep him safe, and to keep him close.

As she drove down the busy streets with him in a limousine, Conrad chatted about his schedule for the day. But Sunrise could only respond with grunts and nods as she was focused on their surroundings, ever vigilant for any potential threats.

As they were crossing an intersection, a car suddenly rammed into them from the side. Sunrise tried to stay in control, but their car tumbled around causing Conrad to fall to the ground.

The car landed upside down, but Sunrise was still conscious. Her head was spinning and her ears were ringing, but ensuring Conrad's safety was her top priority. But before Sunrise could unfasten her seatbelt, a group of men surrounded them, guns drawn.

"Give us the briefcase, and we won't hurt you." The leader of the attackers demanded. She removed her mask to reveal that she was a woman. Sunrise immediately recognized her as Kobra, one of the top assassins from the black market.

Sunrise shuffled off the car and covered Conrad's unconscious body to protect him from the gunmen.

Kobra wasted no time, she began kicking the wounded Sunrise with a look of deadly determination on her face.

"You must be Sunrise," the woman said with a smirk. "I've heard a lot about you. You're legendary, rumored to be the best bodyguard in the market. If it were open."

Sunrise didn't reply. Instead, she grit her teeth and stood up with whatever strength she had left. With a scream, she charged at Kobra head-on. Sunrise was so fast that the gunners didn't have time to react and by then, she was too close to Kobra that they couldn't risk accidentally shooting her.

The two women exchanged blows, each one of their powerful attacks landing with a resounding impact.

Kobra was faster, but Sunrise was resilient. Despite the beating she was taking, Sunrise refused to give up.

Then, sirens blared from the distance. "The cops..." Kobra hissed. She knew her time was running out. "I don't have time to look for the briefcase, but beating the formula out from Mr. Grayson will be more than enough to get me what I need."

Kobra quickly pulled out a knife and stabbed Sunrise on the chest. Kobra then mercilessly pulled the blade out to leave Sunrise to bleed out.

Sunrise stumbled, giving the woman an opening to grab Conrad and drive off with him on her bike. Her henchmen scattered to escape the cops now that their ride was totalled after ramming against Sunrise' car.

But Sunrise wasn't about to let Kobra kidnap and torture her beloved. She slowly rose with sheer willpower despite the gaping wound on her chest. Her vision was darkening and her breathing became labored. Kobra's knife must have been poisoned as well to ensure her demise.

She stumbled around the car wreckage and searched for anything that could help her. That's when she found it - the briefcase Conrad was holding is now cracked open within and inside was an experimental drug developed by his company.

Without hesitation, Sunrise winced in pain as she injected herself with the drug. She felt the purple liquid flow into her veins causing them to bulge.

She then collapsed on the road, waiting for it to take effect or for her to pass away in agony.

At first, nothing happened, and her vision darkened... but then she began to feel better, Healthier than ever. Suddenly, her body grew - and fast.

Her muscles swole faster and faster, tearing her thick jacket sleeves apart. Her chest bulged larger and larger, ripping through her blouse buttons. Her thighs packed muscle over muscle until her pants were bursting at the seams.

The police arrived at the scene of the accident and surrounded Sunrise. They all deployed from their cars, and aimed their handguns and shotguns at the hulking woman.

"FREEZE! Hands in the air!" They blared through their squad car radios, hoping to get the situation under control.

Sunrise didn't have time for this. Kobra was getting away with Conrad and that made her even more furious.

"Get..."

Her pecs bulged up beneath her blouse, popping what remaining buttons was trying to hold it together.

"Out..."

Her pants burst at every seam and her muscular thighs spilled through the openings.

"Of..."

Her entire body was bulking up and rising higher and higher, the policemen had to slowly back away from her as she became gigantic.

"MY WAY!"

The blast shockwave of her voice was enough to send the cops and their cars flying. The nearby windows shattered, and cars from distant blocks set off their alarms.

Feeling powerful and more energized that ever, Sunrise flexed her bicep and looked at her mountainous arms. Then, she clenches her fist and charges through the now narrow roads in pursuit of Kobra.

Meanwhile, Kobra was speeding through the highway when a quake caused her bike to slightly off balance. In addition to Conrad trying to wiggle free of his bindings, she had to stop for a moment to avoid losing her balance when a second quake occurred.

That was when she saw it.

Sunrise, now a walking mountain of female muscle emerging from the corner from behind one of the buildings.

Kobra's eyes widened, but now is not the time to get distracted. She lowered her helmet visor and sped off.

Sunrise' keen vision was not impaired with her newfound vantage point and immediately saw the speeding assassin down the road.

With fury in her eyes and determination welling within her, she stomped her way towards the escaping assassin to rescue her beloved.

Kobra knew her bike won't be able to outrun the 9-storey tall woman, but didn't give up. She used all her techniques to lose her.

When she tried to maneuver through busy streets, weaving between tight traffic, Sunrise simply kicked the cars in her way.

When she tried to lose the massive woman by driving through a narrow passageway. Sunrise just passed through the buildings as is they were made of paper mache.

She was unstoppable!

In a last ditch effort, Kobra gripped her bike handles and drove into a mall. Unwitting shoppers panicked and jumped out of the manic motorcycle's way to avoid getting run over.

However, from behind them, they heard a BOOM... And another. Plaster rained down from the ceiling.

And thats when it happened.

Sunrise forced her way through the mall to try and catch Kobra. She crawled through the tight halls of the megaplex. Demolishing walls and the upper floors that were in her way.

To Kobra's horror, Sunrise was faster than she thought, and before she could escape the mall through the other exit, the giantess had swatted her bike from behind.

The force was powerful enough to completely tear off the entire rear tire of her bike. Kobra's first instinct was to follow her orders to keep Conrad alive for interrogation. She held onto the bound Conrad and leapt off the bike through the exit.

The two were sent rolling through the pavement and they found themselves relatively unscathed in a construction site just across the mall.

Kobra removed her helmet and saw Sunrise smashing through the wall of the mall where they just came out from. She knew that she will have to resort to fighting.

Kobra brought out her handguns and held them akimbo. She then shot at Sunrise. The bullets ricocheted off the giant woman's skin as if it were made of steel. Each bullet causing her body to recoil slightly against every impact.

Sunrise took her time to appear intimidating. She deliberately walked slower, each step cracking the pavement below her and echoing throughout the city.

As soon as Kobra's handguns were spent, she pulled out some sticky bombs and ran towards the looming giantess.

Kobra ran with such agility that even the huge Sunrise couldn't keep up. She was able to evade Sunrise' every attack while attaching explosives on her knees.

As soon as they were all set, Kobra ran into the building under construction and detonated the charges.

The bombs simultaneously stopped beeping and exploded, causing Sunrise to trip and try to lean on the constructed building for support, but it was unable to hold up her weight for long and she crushed an entire portion of it upon her collapse.

Shortly, Sunrise opened her eyes to look for her enemy, and she found her atop the upper floors holding her knife. The blade was coated with a powerful neurotoxin that looks concentrated enough to kill or permanently debilitate the giantess.

With a nod of triumph, Kobra leapt off to stab Sunrise with her poison-laced blade. But before she could land, Sunrise was able swat if her off to a nearby wall inside the building, knocking her broken and unconscious.

Sunrise tried to stand up and held the construction building by its sides then tugged it down to kill Kobra.

With the woman defeated, Sunrise went to check up on Conrad. She lifted him up in her massive hand and held him close to her face. His leg was broken from the crash but he was otherwise fine.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry..." she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I wasn't able to protect you."

Conrad smiled and put his hand over at her gigantic cheek. It was like touching the face of a model on a billboard. "You did everything you could, Sunrise. I'm just glad you're alive and with me right now."

Sunrise felt her heart swell with love for Conrad. "I love you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Conrad's eyes widened in surprise, but then he leaned in and kissed her on the lips. "I love you too, Sunrise, you know I always have." he whispered back.

With their love finally revealed, they walked home together, with Sunrise holding Conrad close to her massive chest, protecting him with every step.

[akabane-yum]

you and all of your new perspective

now wish i could shut it in a closet and drag you back down

“they’ve found him.” he wished they never did. it would be easier to deal with the pain of losing a friend than selfishly mourning your lives together 3 weeks ago. but that too was selfish in its own way.

not that damian cared, he prided himself in his resilience, his strength. so when jon asked if he missed him and nudged his shoulder (a little to hard for his liking), he made sure to omit the nights he spent sweating from his eyes.

“it’s good to have you back.” damian wasn’t stupid. he had been briefed, he was told that jon didn’t look the same and that if he needed more time, time would be given to him. his father had grown soft, giving him time to recuperate, that was the only explanation he had.

he looks different now

he’s still the same little boy!

he’s been through a lot damian, so have you

we’re just happy he’s back home

“so, three weeks eh? i was afraid i missed much.” he stretched and yawned. damian felt his face twitch. he mentally kicked himself for thinking no hug? when did he get so soft.

“no, not much.”

“i’m hoping to start back where we left off,” jon said seriously, “they told me not to pressure you, but you can take it. i know you.” he smiled.

“tt, they don’t need to patronize me. we can start again whenever you’re ready.”

“oh i’m ready, if you can keep up.” he laughed, hitting damian’s shoulder a second time.

when did he get all witty? god, damian was going to hate this.

i haven’t TOUCHED dc content since 2018, i just heard that jon was aged up so forgive me for inconsistencies - i just need a creative outlet :/

[ladycatofwinterfell]

Father’s gentle hands

Summary: When Ned comes home to Winterfell he gets to feel a child of his kick for the first time.

I realised Ned never felt a baby kick in the womb until Sansa since he was away while Cat was pregnant with Robb and we all know what happened with Jon. So here’s early marriage nedcat fluff and Ned with his kids <33

Ned didn’t know why he felt a slight disappointment at that his wife didn’t meet him in the yard as he returned from Karhold. A moon’s turn he had been gone and though the weather had been unusually stable for that time of year in winter the trip had been no pleasure. Though why he had got through the journey home by imagining Catelyn meeting him as he rode through the gate he didn’t know.

Maybe because she was carrying his child. He had discovered so much happened in a moon’s turn when a woman was with child, surely he had missed something while he was away and he wanted to know what it was. It was the first time he paid so close attention to an unborn child, there seemed to be a lot he didn’t know.

He didn’t remember when his mother had carried his sister and younger brother, he hadn’t been there when Catelyn carried Robb. And Jon… well, he had come after it was all said and done.

“You wouldn’t know where Lady Catelyn is?” he asked the stable boy that took his horse as soon as he had his feet on the ground.

The boy shook his head.

“No, m’lord.”

Before Ned could say anything else a delighted yell could be heard and he turned to find his son running towards him. His absence hadn’t been as long as it felt like, but had Robb still not grown a little taller since Ned last saw him?

With a smile he scooped the boy up in his arms and held him up in the air.

“Father!” Robb squealed.

His little laugh was lovely. How Ned despised being away from home, how he despised not hearing Robb’s laugh for so long. His boy had the sunshine from the south and the north’s resilience.

“Robb!”

“You’re home!”

“Yes, I’m home.”

He put Robb back on the ground again, ruffled his mop of auburn hair with one hand.

“Did you do as I told you and kept the castle safe while I was away?” he asked.

Robb nodded, beaming. The pride would have been obvious from miles away.

“Me too!”

Only then did Jon make his presence known and Ned had to embrace him, as well. Ever the careful one, always a step behind his brother.

“My brave sons” he said as he ruffled Jon’s hair.

When he looked at them both there was a slight sting of sadness over that they could never truly be brothers. Not equal the way trueborn brothers were. Though as long as they were friends and there was no ill will between them he would be happy.

“Robb, do you know where your mother is?” he asked.

Now he had seen two of his children, he wanted to see the third. And he wanted to see Catelyn.

“The sept” Robb told him.

Idyn, the woman who most often attended to the boys, lengthened the answer a little.

“Lady Stark told me to bring your son to meet you as you arrived” she said. “She was busy.”

Ever since she found out she was with child Catelyn had prayed several times every day, and wouldn’t sway from that. It was most important to turn to the gods to keep the babe healthy, she had told him when he asked her.

“I’ll take the boys if you want to go to her, m’lord” Idyn then continued.

“That would be good, Idyn. Thank you.”

He would rather not set foot inside the sept though he could meet her outside.

Robb protested and wouldn’t agree to go with Idyn and Jon before Ned promised he would come to them afterwards. It was time for supper soon, he wanted nothing but to sup with his family after so long away from them.

So he made his way towards the sept. He was very rarely there, only when he needed Catelyn for something and she was there. He had been in there no more than twice since it was finished. That was her place, as the godswood was his. He needed not invade.

He felt like a fool when he stood there outside and did nothing but wait. People passed him, some looked like they wanted to ask what he was doing, but no one did. They just nodded towards him, said a polite greeting. Even though it wasn’t long he had to wait there it felt like an eternity.

Though all that was forgotten when the doors opened and Lady Catelyn stepped outside. The smile that lit up her face when she saw him made it all worth it.

“My lord” she said. “Do forgive me for not coming to you immediately, I was in the middle of my prayers.”

Just as he had suspected she had grown rounder since last he saw her, it was obvious even with all the clothing she wore to keep the cold off. It happened so quickly.

“There is nothing to forgive, my lady.”

She came to him and he got to lean down and kiss her cheek. The scent of her, of sweet flowers. He dared not embrace her, didn’t know if she wanted it, but as he straightened up again she took his hand, weaved their fingers together.

It made his heart flutter and he saw how a slight blush covered her cheeks.

“I’m happy to see you home” she said softly.

The sound of her voice was as lovely as she was.

“I’m happy to be home” he said to her.

If he had any luck there would be at least some time before he had to leave again.

“I believe our babe agrees.”

He didn’t have time to ask what she meant by that before she had moved his hand to rest against her stomach, putting her hand on top of it. And he felt a slight pressure against his palm from below it.

“It’s kicking” he said.

He heard himself how stupid it sounded when he said it with such wonder, but it was hard to care when he felt his child moving beneath his hand.

Never before had he felt a child of his moving before it was born. The world seemed to slow, he held his breath and his heart beat hard against his ribcage. When he thought of what he would return to during his travel he hadn’t even considered that. Yet it was as exciting, if not even more, as the rest of it. It was as if he had not truly realised he would have another child until then and there. He would once again be a father, his child was alive. It was there, kicking.

“It happened for the first time just a few days after you left, it’s stronger now” Catelyn told him.

The look on her face was as proud as Robb’s had been earlier.

Once again she weaved their fingers together, that time while his hand was splayed across her stomach. The kicking ceased and came to a stop, but the feeling in Ned’s chest didn’t do the same.

“Our child is strong” he said.

The feeling made his voice sound weird.

“It is” she agreed.

She looked at him and she looked so happy, her eyes sparkling. He must have been smiling back at her, it felt like he did.

When he kissed her she kissed him in return, raised a hand to his cheek. She was so soft, the mother of his children. Several children, two of them.

Her cheeks had turned even redder when they parted and she turned her face downwards. But she didn’t seem unhappy in any way, and her hand remained on his even as the child didn’t kick anymore.

“Every time I have felt it kick I have longed for when I would get to share it with you” she mumbled.

“Is that so?”

Catelyn had longed for him, longed to let him feel their child moving.

She glanced up at him, her eyes still gleaming.

“When I carried Robb you weren’t with me, now you are. I want to share what I can with you.”

“Now I’ll be here.”

He knew he couldn’t promise to always be there, that he wouldn’t have to leave again, but he also knew he wanted what she could share. He wanted to be there. With her and Robb and Jon and the child.

“I was going to eat a small something, would you keep me company?” she asked.

“That I would gladly do, I’m feeling a little hungry myself.”

[sharonrb]

Okoye x Attuma: For the Love of You pt 5

No warnings here

Chapter Nine

Namor stood on the beach; watching as Shuri flew the jet low over his head deliberately, going back to Wakanda. Their meeting had gone bad, with him being who he is, Namlr. ‘Bye Namor, we will not ever speak this way again,’ resonated in his mind. He knew exactly what she meant. Never again, will she ever come to him, for anything anymore. His dealings will be with the King of Wakanda, M'Baku, from this day forth.

It could have been different, also ring loud in his head. What did he expect; how this would play out? After he deliberately came to Wakanda, to kill the Queen. Did he really believe; Shuri would eventually forgive him, for drowning her mother? And right in front her; showing no empathy, as she screamed for her mother.

His biggest mistake was underestimating Shuri. He felt she was naïve, and innocent; easily manipulated, that her being Queen, she could be intimidated. But he now realizes; her brilliant mind would be his downfall. Two sayings he quoted to her, when he held her in Talokan; he ignored in this quest, to rule over to powerful nations.

First, his ancestors would often say, only the most broken people, can be great leaders. He broke her, and she led a few; into battle, and won. Secondly, without the Black Panther, Wakanda would fall. He didn’t understand the resilience of the Wakandans; nor the ability of Shuri. She tried to recreate the heart shaped herb, to save her brother. And unknown to him, he gave her the missing ingredient, she needed inside his mother’s bracelet. Once again, the Black Panther lived. The Black Panther is the symbol of Wakanda, and not one person.

Shuri had confided in him, about how she felt; losing her brother. He stomped on that information and took the last of her family. The one who carried her for nine months; and gave her life, nurtured her and protected her, knew her better than she knew herself. No, there is no going back from such a betrayal. He let out a huge breath, knowing whatever hope he had; was dash there on the beach. The very one he met with her mother, as she pleaded for the return of her daughter. And all along, she had the upper hand, sending a rescue for Shuri and RiRi, while he laughed in her face, making her feel helpless. He gazed up into the sky, taking in the quiet of the night.

Shuri flew the jet back to Wakanda; she could have kicked herself and spared herself, the humiliation of asking that creep for anything. But Okoye’s life was more important; then her pride. M'Baku was right, it was a waste of time, and energy. Why didn’t she see this, when he talked of burning down the surface world, and suggested they do it together? Because, he overheard her say something in grief. And then demanding Wakanda help Talokan, or her would destroy it. Not to mention, one of his guards try to kill her when Nakia came for the rescue.

“Hmmph,” she expressed. “Who gave them that order, Namor?” Everything he does, is about what he wants or needs; not the benefit of others. He's smooth and his words or manipulative; he says the right things, but in his heart is another. She meant it, he can deal with M'Baku; she has other things to think about.

Meanwhile.

The Talokan prison was unique. It sat upon an underwater hill, overlooking the Capitol city. Its structure was unusually designed; long beams made up of granite rock, sand, and seaweed, that was one row after another. The cells were enormous spheres, and their material; were almost the same, as the water balls and grenades, used to attack Wakanda, but sturdier.

The cells hung from the beams, by seaweed and sand, twisted into reinforced ropes. The doors were four long bars made of vibrainum, and a small window with three small bars. Though the prison had been there forever, it hadn’t been in use for years. The Talokanils, pretty much followed the laws put in place, by their K'uk'ulkan.

So therefore, Attuma was the only prisoner these days. Now, a young dolphin happened to be swimming by, and Attuma in one of the cells; and found it strange, since no one has been placed in there for years. It swam back to its group, communicating what it saw, and curious to why?

The word spread, as all the sea creature affiliated with the Talokanils; found this an abnormally. Word got back to a herd of whales Tmay and Attuma’s pet was in. He heard the commotion, and went to explore for himself; passing over, and saw it was his master, then called out to him.

Attuma was laying down meditating. This was the only thing he could do; without going stir crazy. He thought he heard Tmay, but wasn’t sure; until he called again. He swam to the door, looking out and seeing the giant pass over. Tmay came up to the door, his huge eye staring at him.

Attuma reached out and touched him, sensing him stressing, Tmay swam away. Attuma floated there gripping the bars for a few moments; then went back to lay down. Just as he got comfortable, he felt this shaking, like an underwater quake, and explosions, as the apparatus being torn apart. Everything went into chaos; the prison came crashing down. He felt his cell, being pulled away through the water, as it moved away from Talokan.

Attuma took this time to bust out, something he hadvbeen contemplating since his imprisonment. He kicked the door loose with one blow. He the saw the guards chasing, but some of the orcas, and whales were running interference. The guards finally gave up, as the herd of Tmay formed a shield as Attuma and Tmay made their getaway. Attuma grabbed hold of Tmay's flipper, as they sped on towards Wakanda.

Namor returned to find the guards, and Namora in a uproar. She swam to him, to inform him of Attuma’s escape; and how it was done. He told them to mount up, that they were going after him. They called to the Orcas, whales and dolphins, for their rides, but none responded. That’s when they knew, the creatures were aiding in the escape. Namor grew angry, but knew it wasn’t much he could do for now. He would use this as a way to break the alliance; if M'Baku did not return Attuma to them.

“What do we do about the animals?” Namora asked.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“They refused to perform their duties,” she said.

“What do you think we should do, Namora?” he asked. “Something that will not, bring every sea creature down upon us, with a wrath; even I could not defend against.” Namora stared blankly at him, pondering the chaos Talokan would be thrown in.

“Right,” she said, then left.

Okoye isn’t doing well; Attuma will get to her, but will he be in time? Once she is gone, he will be left with no purpose, but to return broken hearted, and beg for his forgiveness. He will, but there will be some conditions, he will have to abide by. Yes, this may work in his favor after all, Namor thought to himself.

Attuma hung on as Tmay sped towards Wakanda and Okoye. All he could think about; is finally, he can hold her in his arms, feel her lips on his, their bodies touching each other, completing the bond between them, and becoming one in mind, body and soul. He will never leave her side again.

He grew dark, thinking about what Namor will attempt, once he knows he has escaped. He will use this to break the alliance, and try to start a war between the two kingdoms. Namor had this perception of Attuma; that he was intellectually challenged. And the fact, Attuma allowed him to continue with this thought. But in reality, Attuma truly was highly intelligent; and little did Namor know, he has been studying their bylaws. So, when the time comes, and Namor chooses to force the Wakandans into a war; Attuma will invoke one of those laws against Namor, and he will not be able to refuse.

Shuri made it back into Wakanda and landed on the platform near the lab. She told Ayo and Aneka to go home, and get some rest. There was nothing more, any of them can do right now. M’Baku had already left, with instructions to call him if anything develops. Shuri went into her lab, trying trying, what she could do to free Okoye from this hold.

“Griot run that sequence once again,” she ordered her AI.

“If I may say, Princess,” he said.

“Yes, speak,” she told him.

“If Attuma will come, as M’omee Zasanda says; shouldn’t we prepare for his arrival?” Griot asked.

“What do you mean?” Shuri asked.

“He is a sea person am I correct?” He asks.

“Yeah, so what are you saying?” She was confused.

“He will have to escape to get here, and that will mean; no preparation. He will have none of his equipment to assure his survival, nor supplies, he will need to sustain himself on land. He will soon perish after assisting Okoye, if not before.” Shuri realized, what Griot was saying is true. Attuma will not have anything to keep him a live; due to his expedient getaway.

“Griot, tell me. What are the chances, he will escape, and make it?” She asked.

“I calculate it is ninety-nine-point ninety-nine percent; he is on his way now.” He informed her.

“What? Griot, are you sure he escaped, and coming? She asked.

“I detected a disturbance from the area of the Talokan sea, whales and other sea mammals were on the rampage, I am receiving. The new alert warnings; you set up on the land near Talokan tonight, are working.” She wasn’t sure they would, since they hadn’t been tested until now. She went about making plans, for Attuma's appearance.

“You summon me?” Namora enter the room; Namor sat at the table.

“Yes, I did. I need you to prepare our army, we’re going to Wakanda to get Attuma,” he ordered. “If there is any resistance; we will attack.” Namora stood for a moment; a grim expression donned her face. Namor had been looking down, while he told her what to do; but looked up at her, realizing she wasn’t moving, and saw her face. “Is there something wrong, my child?”

“Yes, K'uk'ulkan,” she answered. “Much of this is wrong.” Namor has always had a softness with her, even when she has over stepped the boundaries. But this, is a touch of questioning him, something she has done one time too many. He rose to his feet, and approached her; she stood her ground, having enough of all of this.

“And tell me Namora, what is wrong with so much of this?” He asked. She could hear the anger in his voice, though his face didn’t reveal it.

“We have an alliance with Wakanda, coming to them with an army; will present an act of aggression,” she said. “When I came to you; angry you had bowed before the Black Panther, and yield. Remember what you told me?” His eyes brows furrowed.

“I told you; the Black Panther had a right to kill me, but she did not,” he said.

“Her right; because we attacked Wakanda, and you killed her mother.” She reminded him. “But she did not, and why is that K'uk'ulkan?” What was it you told me, and convince me; your decision to yield was the right thing to do?”

“Her empathy for our people, and that the surface world will come after Wakanda,” he said to her.

“And when they do, what did we promise Wakanda?” She asked. “The ones we caused, so much pain and death?” His eyes narrowed more than they had, as the conversation progress. Namora regurgitated the things he told her, after the battle with the Black Panther; which remains a sore spot in his existence.

“I am not sure why all of a sudden, you are defending these surface dwellers?” He snapped at her.

“Because, you told me to trust you on this, and I did. I realized, it was best for Talokan, to have Wakandan; not only protecting our waters from above; but our very presence. Something, we really do not deserve.”

“They killed two of your sisters, remember how angry you were?” He says to her.

“Yes, I was very angry, and afraid; if they could find us, they could send their whole army, and attack Talokan. But they did not, even after what we did to them. I was wrong about them.” She told him.

“So, what is it you suggest we do?” He asked of her.

“Not this, not this again,” she said. “We have no idea their true power; but they know ours. And then there is Attuma, he will not come without a fight, K'uk'ulkan. Are you prepared to battle him?” Namor came closer to her, lowering his head; until he looked her in the eyes.

“No one disobeys orders and a decree, then escapes the trial,” he said. His voice calm, but ominous.” She stared him in the eyes, and saw something she didn’t like; this alarmed her. “So, to answer your question. Yes, I am ready to battle; even Attuma, if I must. I have to let all of Talokan know; I am not to be withstood; if so, there are dire consequences.”

“You,” she said. “It’s all about you. Attuma was right, you give the pretense you are doing what is best for us. But it is your needs, your wants that drive you. We are the excuse you use to pull it off.” Namor was on her before she could breathe, his hand raised to back hand her.

Tears filled her eyes, as he lowered it; and turned away. Without another word, she fled into the water, and swam away. He turned, lowering his head; never had he lifted his hand, to harm any of his people. Why now? What was fueling this insanity? Then the answer came to him, like a light bulb brightening a room.

If he allowed Attuma to get away with his defiance of the law and order in place. What would stop another Talokanil feel its alright to challenge his authority? Look what just happened with Namora, her refusing to carry out his order. No, they all, Wakandans and Talokanils; have to know who he is, K'uk'ulkan, the Feather Serpent God.

Shuri checked in on Okoye, after preparing for Attuma arrival if Griot is correct. They haven’t been able to pick up on his whereabouts, since the estimated time of his escape from Talokan. They will have to be patient until her gets there, and assist him then. She stared up and one of her display and newest creation.

“This will work well, if everything goes as planned,” she whispered to herself.

“Princess,” Griot interrupted her thoughts.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Okoye’s heart rate has dropped,” he told her. She turned to look at the monitor, and saw a significant decrease. She rushed in and saw she was barely breathing, even with the oxygen mask. She felt that hopelessness resurfaced.

“Attuma, where are you?” She said to herself.

Okoye could hear the pain in Shuri’s voice and wished she could fight her way out of this, but she felt, this was something weapons of war would not defeat. She could feel being pulled into a mist rising up and encircling her. This was not good, she sensed.

Attuma felt this huge dread wash over him. He knew it had something to do with Okoye’s condition. She was sinking into the darkness, the one where there is no returned. He moved to the back of Tmay and hopped onto his tail, then commanded him to toss him as high and far, as possibly. He did.

Attuma flew into the air, and a great distance from where he once had been. He pressed his arms close to his body, making himself a human missile, cutting through the air. He had not tried this before; but understood how Namor felt flying. It was exuberating. He could have done this forever, but without his rebreather; he was going into distress. He guided his body back into the water, and swam with great intensity to get to his destination, Okoye.

“Didn’t Namora pass on my orders?” He asked, one of the warriors, seeing no one was assembled in the meeting hall for his speech.

“No K'uk'ulkan, I have not seen her,” he was told. He looked around, to see if he could find her. “Look for her, and let her know; I want to speak with her. One of the warriors overheard him, and came to him.

“K'uk'ulkan, may I approach?” He asked.

“Yes, you may,” he was curious to what he wanted. “I heard you were asking about Namora?”

“Yes, you know anything about her whereabouts?” He asked.

“I heard a group of warriors talking about her saying, she was leaving forever,” he told him. “And then she swam away on one of the orcas.” Namor’s whole body shook, his heart nearly pausing. He remembered the day she was born, and her excitement to be picked for his training; when she became of age. Now, she’s gone to parts unknown.

“What was that?” He asked, surly he heard wrong.

“They said she told them, she was leaving; and never coming back,” he repeated. “Something about done with this, and not wanting to see the two people she loved the most, killing each other.” Namor thought through what was told him. Then looked at the person, and fanned them away; he looked at the newly elected second in command.

“You are my General now,” he told him. The two he had given the most to; have been his biggest disappointment; and betrayers. “Send out a search party, and bring her back. You will come with me to Wakanda, get your army prepared. We leave very soon.”

“Yes, K’uk’ulkan,” he gave the Talokanil salute, and sped away to carry out his orders. Namor went to her dwelling, just in case; what was told to him was a falsehood. And she was there sulking from their earlier encounter. She was not there, but evidence of her departure showed. She had indeed, gone from Talokan. He would make the both of them a public example; no one rebels against him, and not pay the price in doing so. He went back to his quarters to prepare for their journey; focusing on the easier one, Attuma.

Chapter 10

Okoye sunk lower into obscurity; and the idea was, nothing could be done on their part to help her. Ayo, Aneka, Nakia, lingered at her side; while Shuri continued trying various sequences, that may break, or reverse, what was going on. But all were a failure, she was witnessing the same occurrence as her fight to save her brother.

“Griot, is there any other variation we can try?” She asked, but knew they had tried everything.

“No, Princess, all have been run. Okoye’s heart rate is slowing down to forty.” Griot revealed. Shuri left the lab without a word, and hoped it was true, Attuma is on his way. He was their only hope now.

Attuma raced towards Wakanda and to Okoye; as fast as Tmay could carry him. Now, Attuma was never one of patience, and not one at the time of desperation. He swam to the back of Tmay again and got on his tail, and by instinct the whale swung him out of the water as far as possible.

Again, Attuma tighten his arms close to his body, giving himself that better propulsion. This cut down the distance between Wakanda and himself. When he felt the distress from lack of breath, he lowered his head and cut through the water with enormous speed. He was a man on a mission, and sparing none of his abilities; time was of the essence.

M'bandi laid by the banks of Okoye’s first interaction with Attuma. She had been there all night, waiting for some reason. But somehow, she sensed him coming; and called out to him. Tmay heard her in the distance, and rushed under Attuma, flipped him one more time into the air, and towards the banks. Attuma could see Mbandi waiting for him. He landed inches from her, mounted her, and guided her along the banks. He needed to get where the warriors of the river tribe were, and seek their help to get to Okoye.

Okoye felt herself being pulled into darkness, it was quiet and cold; she could hardly see inches in front of her. There was a small speck of light before her; she had the urge to follow it. The closer she got, the larger it grew; until she walked through it, and unto another place.

“No,” Shuri put her kimoyo beads on her chest, trying to revive her dear friend. Ayo called M'Baku, informing him of Okoye’s change of condition. He rushed over to be there for the women, if things went bad.

Attuma made it to the where the warriors guarded the border. He slid off M'bandi, weaken from not having his mask. One came to him, as he was on his knees trying to tell them that he needed to get to Okoye, but none spoke his language. One called the Palace informing them of his arrival, and him trying to tell them something.

“Attuma is at the river tribe, and he is not looking good,” M'Baku informed Shuri. She rushed from Okoye’s side, and into her lab. There was nothing more she could do for Okoye, and hoped Attuma could.

“Go to the platform, when the jet arrives, place this mask on him immediately,” she instructed, her two lab assistants. Then went to the jet simulator, and sent one to get Attuma. He laid on the ground barely alive, when the aircraft came and hovered over him. The beam lifted him aboard and whisked him away, and landed on the platform near the lab. The lab assistants rushed aboard and immediately placed the mask on him. Soon he had regained some of his strength, and gestured he needed to get to Okoye. They didn’t understand him what he was saying, but only went by what Shuri had instructed. To bring him directly to her.

Okoye looked around and knew she was somewhere, but not sure where. The coloring were shades of blues and purples. In the distance she could see her home. She slowly made her way there, looking for her dear pet rhino, Mbandi; to come running anytime, to meet her with that long-wet tongue against her face.

Attuma was brought to Shuri's laboratory, she was happy to see him. She grabbed his arm, and raced to where Okoye’s laid, expired as far as they knew; but hoped he could work some type of miracle to revive her. He entered to room, and looked upon her lifeless body. His heart breaking at the sight, but waste no time gathering her into his arms. He cradled her head with one hand, looking at her beautiful face.

“You all may want to leave,” he said. But gestured with his hand.

“What is he saying?” M'Baku asked.

“Griot,” Shuri called out to her AI, but when Attuma pressed his mouth to Okoye’s but, and begin to hum, everyone exited quickly, not wanting to feel the siren effect. It first started off low, then crescendo into a song more than a hum. A song that told a tale of them, and the life ahead; for just the two of them.

“Okoye,” his voice flowed through the air, caressing her ear. She was in front of her house, walking towards it, and getting ready to go on the porch. But she turned, to see him running to her; after hearing him calling her.

“Attuma?” She questioned him being there. Was this another out of body experience she has been going through, since the merging. Or was it just a dream.

“Okoye,” he was just a few feet from her, but wasn’t allowed to go any further. She would have to choose to come to him, and back to her life. “You need to come to me, if you go into your house; you will never see any of us again.” She looked at her house, then back to him.

“What are you saying?” She asked, bewildered. So much stranger than life occurrences. “Why would I not ever see anyone again, if I go into my house?”

“Because, this is the place you all go for the tonality of your existence,” he explained. She gasped.

“The Ancestral Plane?” She asked. “I am dead?”

“Not yet, but if you go inside your house, you will be,” he told her. Now, she understood why M’bandi wasn’t present. She looked about her knowing, but needed confirmation. “Is this a dream?”

“No, my dear warrior, this is real. I am here to bring you back to us, and complete our bond,” he told her. “But it has to be your choice.” Okoye stared at her house, as it beckoned to her, then looked to Attuma with his outstretched hand. Finally, a chance to feel him, she walked into his arms; hearing the beautiful song he was singing to her, and just for her.

She opened her eyes and focus them, as his face became clearer. He had this beautiful smile, that lit up once their eyes met. He lowered his head, removing his mask, and kissed her for the first time in reality. She moaned from the passion that exuberated from him.

The energy that coursed between them was powerful. He raised his head, parting their lips, and placed the mask back on; his eyes never left hers. Slowly, the others entered the room, hearing the song had ceased; they were elated to see Okoye alive and well.

“She will need to regain her strength, but she is alright, and we are now mates,” he told them. Okoye translated what he said.

“Tell him I made something for him, when he can spare the time,” Shuri told her. Okoye told him.

“Alright everyone,” M'Baku said. “Let’s give them their privacy. There will be plenty of time to play catch up later.” Reluctantly, they did as what was told, but understood what he was saying. Attuma was too into Okoye to noticed they had left, his eyes continued gazing into hers. He sighed a huge relief, having her there in his arms, the vibe completed.

“How did you get out of prison?” She asked.

“You remembered coming to see me?” He asked, surprised. He knows the ritual of the vibe, but never actually experienced it. Some things, that may happen; could be new to him as well.

“Yes, I remember everything,” she told him. “I remember your kiss each time.” Attuma smiled. Of all that happened, she mentions their kiss.

“Nothing more?” He asked. She went solemn, trying to recall her everything.

“Each time I came was for a reason, but you would always warn me to go back. That’s when you would kiss me, and I wound up back here,” she told him.

“As you become stronger, you will remember more,” he said. “Now rest my warrior.” He laid her head down on the pillow.

“I am not a warrior anymore,” she told him, he could hear the sadness. “I was stripped of my positioned, by the Queen when you took the Princess. I promised her I would protect Shuri, but I failed.”

“But we fought on the ship,” he was confused.

“Something Shuri had created before I was demoted,” she explained.

“Maybe something you might want to explore?” he suggested. She thought about it, they already have a name. Maybe even recruit more to form another branch of their military. “Once a warrior always a warrior,” he told her. “Let me go see what the Princess has for me. Rest, I will return.”

Shuri was having Griot to analyze, and monitor Okoye’s progress when Attuma entered. She went to one of her glass displays, and showed him her latest creation. A suit made just for him, to be out of water for periods of time. It had the similar covering over their gills, which held water. But instead of the mask, it had the nose spectum, and tubes extending from them to the suit; circulating water through the nose.

“Try it on,” Shuri told him. “I need to make sure it fits, how comfortable you are in it, and most of all; if it works properly.” Griot set the translator for each of them. Attuma begin to strip down which shocked Shuri.

“No, no, hold on.” She stopped him. “In here,” she took him to a private room. She forgot how wild and free the Talokanils are, unlike the Wakandans. Well, some other tribes outside the five main ones; do have their rituals. Attuma reappeared in his suit, looking quite different from what he had looked before. Full body suit with the added apparatus to breath on land. “Nice,” she gave him the thumbs up.

“How will I mate with my warrior, with this clothing covering my body?” He asked. Shuri's eyes darted about, not quite sure how to address this question.

“I think maybe you should work that out with your mate,” is the best answer she could give him. He left her to deal with her embarrassment. Boy, is he got it for Okoye, she thought.

Okoye had drifted off to sleep; her body finally shutting down, to recover from the trauma it went through. Attuma came in and sat beside her, gazing upon the one he fought so hard to save. He leaned in and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

“Sleep my warrior, we have plenty of time now,” he told her. The suit was already regenerating his diminished strength; used to get there, and bring her back from the brink of death. It was not an easy task, so much could have gone wrong.

Namor swam into the Capitol city of Talokan, descending on the throne. He announced they will be going to Wakanda; only to retrieve Attuma, and bring him back to stand trial for treason. And if the Wakandans stand in the way; they will have his wrath rain down on them. They will suffer worst than the previous attack.

“Liik’iK Talokan,” he repeated three times with his people repeating back. Then he grabbed his spear, and swam out, heading for Wakanda; he warriors flanking him, and others following him. Once they had passed. A cloaked Wakandan warship, that sat above Talokan; may its appearance, then another, and thereafter a third.

“This is Captain Wabungobo, Sir, he spoke into the ship’s radio. “It’s as you predicted; our sonars picked up a massive number of figures heading towards Wakanda.”

“Wait for my orders,” M'Baku told him.

“Yes, My King,” he replied. M’Baku went to the window, their Queen had been water bombed, and killed. It will not go unanswered this time, if they choose to attack. Namor has no idea, what is in stored for his people, and him. Never again; will Wakanda suffer as before, and not answer in like manner.

Links:

Okoye x Attuma: For the Love of You pt 1

Okoye x Attuma: For the Love of You PT 2

Okoye x Attuma: For the Love of You pt 3

Okoye x Attuma: For the Love of You pt 4

Taglist

@Pixieyosi

@skysynclair1919

@misslackey

@dillie600

@pikapuff-31616

@christina831

[astrxlfinale]

So, Mr. Trailblazer, is it true that you can not jump? We are writing a piece for the Penacony Times!

"I--- What, can't jump!? How the hell do you think people even get around!? My own two feet are good for jumping as they are for running! And any other thing just about that's feet related!"

Kicking, stomping, you name it! That said. Caelus sure as hell feels odd being this damn prideful about his own feet. Considering there's countless tales, metaphors and saying that make mentions of resilience, of being on your own two feet, maybe it's his thought that social spaces like the internet made him think too hard on such deals.

Fixing that once shocked expression, it'd meld down to a sudden bout of determination as a swift, idle hope is drawn back. "Now see. If this was a game, especially the 3D ones now days, maybe so. In platformers had a helluva lot of jumping in them, and where do you think this inspiration comes from?"

With a rapt tap of the foot upon the earth, he'd immediately be sent bouncing with a sudden rush of momentum. Caelus would contently embrace the swirl of surroundings, scenery and people as it all whipped back in a rapid blur. This is one of the many (albeit sometimes dizzying) joys of performing a backflip!

Without missing a beat, he's soon safely back on his own two feet after a moment of air time. Arms extended for a dash of showmanship, he gives a wink towards the reporter.

"So! How's that as a crash course of crushing rumors firsthand?"

[otter1962crystalball]

Experiencing Narcissism 101 - Part 3

June 24th, 2024

Here we are nearing the end of Pride Month. I’ve challenged myself to write everyday and I’ve found it very useful in examining my past and realizing that I am actually very resilient. Yesterday I wrote about events leading up to the point of coming back from a trip with John. Today, the story continues.

I put my plan into action and began taking steroids above and beyond what I needed for Testosterone Replacement Therapy. I was taking injections because my testosterone was low due to my HIV medications. I supplemented with street testosterone as did John. In the course of my doing so, I put on more than 25 pounds and ended up at 250 pounds at my maximum. I continued abusing them up until 2013 when I moved to Nova Scotia with John.

John convinced me that I should be reducing the amount of time that I worked. At that time, I was a full-time teacher, a group fitness leader at a community centre and also a mentor for a master’s program at a university. The only real solution he suggested was to move from British Columbia to Nova Scotia. The reason was due to other cities didn’t seem inviting for either of us. I did suggest Montreal, but John didn’t speak French and thought it wasn’t a good idea. That summer, we jumped on a plane and took a quick trip to Nova Scotia. We explored a place called Annapolis Valley, which is fertile area of the province. We even looked at homes, but didn’t find anything that we liked. We returned home and made our decision.

We decided we would move to Windsor, Nova Scotia in October 2013. We also got married as it seemed the right thing to do. I resigned from the school board and put the house up for sale. It sold while we were enroute. We climbed into my truck with two dogs and a cat, travelling across Canada to Nova Scotia. During the trip, we argued a lot. The shouting continued and I decided that it was just part of my new life and bit my tongue. John did berate me for being quiet, which in my mind was better than screaming back at him. We found an apartment - literally on the fly - as we went across Canada. The hardest part was finding a rental unit that accepted dogs.

We lucked out and stayed in a place in Windsor until early 2015 when we found a house on the South Shore - which later became known as Otter Cottage. During the time in Nova Scotia, John had problems finding a job. I was accepted as a substitute and started working. He didn’t and that left him open to do other things. In fact, I caught him cheating on me several times. So, we negotiated an open relationship where we would explore together to fulfill everyone’s needs.

During our time there in Windsor, I got a phone call from my doctor. She told me to go to the hospital immediately because my bloodwork indicated that I had had a heart attack. We went to emergency immediately and I discovered that I had an enlarged heart due to the large amount of steroids. I spent four days in the hospital while they did tests. John visited everyday, but complained constantly about having to drive into the city. With supervision, I weaned myself off the steroids and reduced my testosterone to the appropriate level and quit the street steroids. It was clear that I had almost killed myself. I began kicking myself for having been so stupid to abuse steroids that much to satisfy the wishes of another person.

Once into Otter Cottage, I got a job in the Halifax and ended up with a permanent position teaching French Immersion. John then decided to become a real estate agent. So, I paid for his education. During the time of moving to the South Shore, our relationship was really strained. John was constantly getting angry at just about everyone - of course, including me. He constantly seemed frustrated and I did everything I could including buying antiques for him and giving him a room to decorate. That didn’t help and we argued constantly. Several times, I told him that I had had enough. Suddenly, John would turn back to a charmer and everything was great - for a few short weeks or month.

John finished his real estate school and managed to sell at least three properties, using a car that I had bought for him. At the same time, I discovered that he was still cheating on me. In late 2016, John mentioned that his former employer in Montreal had suggested offering him a job. I had had enough of all the nonsense. When I heard that, I told John that I wanted him to take the job and be out of the house by next week. So, he packed the car with everything he could and then moved everything he thought belonged to him into the antique room he had decorated. He went to Montreal and suddenly I felt a real relief - until the divorce proceedings started.

In the six years we were together, John paid rent three months in the time we were in my house in Vancouver. He bought groceries maybe twice. In Nova Scotia, he paid for nothing. I didn’t see any of the profits from the sales of the properties he had sold. I got a lawyer and proceeded with the divorce. We had to live apart for at least a year before we could legally divorce. That year was a year from hell for me.

John, now in Montreal, would contact me and screamed at me for not moving the stuff he wanted to Montreal. I told him that the lawyer told me to do that until we had settled the divorce.  His request was half of everything. I provided all my receipts for everything, showing that John had paid little. He never paid for heating, mortgage payments, gym fees, and much more. During that time, John began a classic narcissistic pattern - he tried to show me how he was a victim. He sent me pictures of him in the hospital. He sent me pictures of his empty fridge. He called me constantly asking for money. I had to continue to say no. He turned several local friends against me saying I was withholding his belongings. I told those local friends that they didn’t know what was really going on. Needless to say, I didn’t continue those friendships.

The calls continued along with emails, texts until I had to block him. He even called my school during a lesson and interrupted. He called me at the gym as well, asking an attendant to find me. I put a stop to all of that. At the end of the year apart, I made him an offer and let him know that he would get nothing more. He begrudgingly accepted it and immediately demanded his things sent. I had packed them into a pod as I was sick of seeing the pile of things in the living room. In typical fashion, he demanded that I allow one of his friends to sit and watch the pod be repacked so that his belongings would be safe. Ironically, the movers told me that I had done an amazing job and that repacking wasn’t necessary! At this point, I didn’t care; he had to pay for the moving costs.

Even after the papers were signed and we were officially divorced he continued to harass me with phone calls and texts on anonymous lines. I was so tired of it that I went to the local RCMP and lodged a complaint and asked the calls, texts and emails stop. The Sûreté du Québec (the provincial police in Quebec) paid him a visit and told him that if he contacted me again, he would be arrested. That was the last time I ever heard from him. In that year and a half, he contacted me more than 668 times by various methods.

In 2018 I was officially free of John. Otter Cottage was in my name, the car payments for John’s car were now his responsibility and I began my new life as a divorced gay man. As a side note, that fall as I was cleaning the gardens, I found a pile of broken mugs, coasters and John’s medication all thrown into the bushes. It seemed that whenever he was angry, he would throw things off the verandah - just like when he used to go out and scream at the top of his lungs at the people he hated.

So what was it like to live with a narcissist? Looking at the 9 points of Special Me, I saw countless examples of all 9 points and more from him. He always though he was the most important person at all times. He felt entitled to everything without having to work for it. He was exploitative, arrogant, lacked empathy and always showed off so that others could admire him. He also was easily able to play the victim and everything that he did was turned back on my so that it was all my fault. Anyone who didn’t agree with him immediately became the enemy - me included.

I saw a counsellor and learned to deal with the aftermath of living six years with John. The counsellor suggested I buy a book called “Stop Walking on Eggshells: Taking Your Life Back When Someone You Care About Has Borderline Personality Disorder.” All what was discussed in the book, I found in John. The only thing the book didn’t help me with was getting along with him and thankfully I never wanted to do so. In the end, I believe he was also obsessive compulsive as well.

During my counselling time, I came to acknowledge my part in those six years. I had been codependent and allowed him to do all of those things. I also discovered that I had to learn to love myself, always take care of myself first before helping others and learning how a narcissist latches onto a caregiver such as myself. I forgave myself for almost killing myself on steroids to please John. I watched my health and have not abused them since.

At that point, I was really sure that I knew what the signs were and vowed to never get involved with a narcissist. Did I succeed? I’ll leave that to tomorrow’s blog… For Pride, I am celebrating my inner self and my self love. Now that I have worked on myself, someone like John would never be able to pry their way into my life. 

Carpe diem, everyone.

[peacespun]

the cold was familiar to him. it settled deep in his bones like a comforting ache of home, flushing his cheeks and nose red from the blistering winds that gust over the walls and through the gates. he remembers much of his march south in his state of vengeance, or rather more to do with his duty to protect his family in the absence of their father. it was never conquest that drove him and many knew that, despite what the southerners said of him, what they tried to speak to upheave the honor in his name after the betrayal of house bolton and frey, what they called the red wedding. the south never quite fit him. too warm for his liking, too volatile. the north he knew was brutal in its nature, cold and unforgiving, but their hospitality was warm and their vows held far more resiliently.

it was almost bittersweet coming home. knowing now what he left behind and what he could never bring home, who he could never bring back. his father and his mother, his wife. those who were slain in the fight under his name and stark banner, who vowed their allegiance and died for it. and worse of all, those who had become a victim to the boltons before the starks took back their home. everything to him is all at once familiar and different. the halls were quieter, the grounds of the castle were almost bare. there were days when he was a child he would have longed for this, peace and quiet, silence enough to hear the soft snow fall to the ground, but the years have changed him and now all he wished was for his mother to turn a corner and warm any hall she gracefully walked through, to look at him and smile with her eyes. for his father to walk with pride through his home, to see his children and all they had accomplished, the feats they survived. robb the arrows through his chest, jon the knife through his heart, sansa the lannisters and boltons alike. and arya... there were rumors of whether they survived or not, just as there had been rumors that they had brought winter to house frey.

some part of him felt a little jealous. the part that wished to enact revenge himself, to spill the blood of walder frey over the floor of his home for his part in the death of their mother and his wife. he dreamed of running the sword through the old man, woke in a cold sweat and burned with rage all over again. but winter came regardless of who held its sword, with lithe hands and a steady knife, poison in every mans cup. he'll admit it was a far less bloody plot than what he imagined, but they were all dead. every single one. but how it was done, the rumors that were whispered carefully as if winter would turn its shoulder to them ... he could only imagine...

a ice cold wind kicks at his heavy fur coat and buries itself deep into old wounds, igniting again an ache within him. he wraps the coat around him more, and as he turns to finally go inside, there at the gate -- @devilsnare. it takes only a moment for him to realize who stares back at him. " arya? " he can't tell if its disbelief or shock in his voice, perhaps it was both. but nothing kept him from running to them, wrapping his arms around the other and hoisting them from the ground, so quickly that he has to stop them from tumbling to the frozen mud. suddenly the ache left by the cold was gone and light filled his eyes. " gods, look at you! ... you were smaller when i last saw you. "

[maggicktouched]

@graunblida

I don't even really know what to call this but I wrote it a while back and thought I'd post it. My feelings on it are kinda eh, but I have Many Feelings about Dvalinn so, here it is.

Sweet pink juice poured from the cut in the meat and seeped out across his plate. It surrounded his potatoes before they readily soaked it up, and slithered into his sprouts. He could smell the spices and the unctuous scent of boar—and he could taste metal on his tongue. Without any of his usual respect for propriety, Dvalinn shoved away the plate and stood. The Boudalankru leader, as well as his mothers, paused their conversation to look at him. He could not form a lie, so he left without uttering a single word.

Hopefully his nomon could smooth things over. He didn’t want this to be hard for her. He didn’t want any of this… but he just couldn’t bear it. Not when every time he closed his eyes he could hear the strangled gasps of the bandit king, and see his blade slicing him apart piece by piece. 

“You wish to be heda.” His nomon had said when he balked at the sight of the knife extended to him. “This is what it means. His crimes demand justice.”

He took the knife, he made the cuts where his nomon said, how she said, and with each one he fell a bit further inside himself. If he hadn’t, he might not have survived the ordeal.

He hadn’t been himself since.

They rode back for Polis the next day, and he watched his mothers riding at the front of the procession, talking to one another quietly. Now and again they’d look back at him, and he would pretend not to notice. When they made camp that evening, he watched his mom venture past the safety of the guards and the fires—alone. His nomon remained with her warriors, and no one else seemed concerned that heda’s wife had just waltzed out of camp without protection. What if she was attacked by rebels or highwaymen? What if she got carried away with her own magic and lost herself out there like his uncle Fen said she would?

Dvalinn shifted his skin and sniffed the air until he locked in on his mother’s scent. He loped up the moonlit path and into the brush of the forest where she left no footprints. It was cold outside, and the leaves were rotting. The smell was so overpowering it nearly made him lose the scent. He might not have found her at all if the forest had not been so barren. 

She was sitting on the side of a cliff, her feet dangling precariously over the edge. Her eyes were closed and her head was tilted upward to soak in the light of the full moon. When he shifted back and sat beside her, she smiled sadly.

“You’ll understand if you have children someday.” She told him, putting a hand on his knee. Cloaked in shadows, in the solitude of the evening, he could accept this gentleness. Especially from his mom, who was always gentle. It didn’t feel like a threat.

“Understand what?”

“I love you. I love you so much it aches down in my bones. Your nomon does too. It was only natural to want to protect you.” She sighed, deep and weary in a way that made him want to protect her. “It made you soft.”

He recoiled at the word, scooting back abruptly where she could not reach him. Heat crept up to his cheeks and his chest puffed out with pride and anger to mask his pain. “Soft?”

“I don’t regret it.” She was still giving him that look of wonder–as if he hung the moon up in the sky–only now it was tinged with sorrow. “But I knew the day would come where no one could protect you anymore. Not even me or Lexa.”

His heart was pounding so hard in his chest it was throbbing in his throat, kicking against his uvula, threatening to gag him. She thought he was weak? How could she possibly say that? After all his hard work. After what he’d done to the bandit king.

“I have proven my strength.” He reminded her through gritted teeth. His fingers clenched into fists in his lap.

His mom nodded. “You’re strong. I always knew you’d be strong… but it isn’t strength you need now. It’s resilience. I learned it too young. Your nomon did too. We didn’t want that for you.”

“Mom… what’s happening? What are you talking about?” His mother never talked like this. Was something wrong with her? With nomon? His palms turned wet with sweat. 

Her voice was shaky, and there were tears in her eyes that she didn’t let fall. “Now I can’t protect you anymore.”

He pulled his hand away and tilted his head. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I’d wager you’ve lost ten pounds in the two weeks since you aided in the execution of Staunt kom Ouskejonkru. You barely eat. You wander the Tower all hours of the night because you cannot sleep. You lie to your nomon–to me–and you won’t speak a word to us about it either.” She wiped away a tear that escaped. “You are miserable. I see it, your nomon sees it, I know you see it, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it. It frightens me.”

His jaw clenched. Caught between the pain of so openly hurting his mother, and his stubborn pride, he wasn’t sure what to say. She was giving him a chance, here and now, away from prying eyes, to be weak, and still he couldn’t allow it. He feared that if he did, if even one chip in his armor showed, then it would all crash down around him.

`“You–you and nomon have to trust me.” He scooted a bit closer, trying to catch her eye. “I can do this. Just like she can.”

“I know you can… but do you want to?” She asked quietly—speaking aloud the question he asked himself every day.

“I’ve never wanted anything else.” Was all he could say. It wasn’t a lie. Even if he didn’t want to be commander anymore, he also didn’t really know what he wanted. 

He didn’t have any exceptional aptitude for spellcraft. He wasn’t interested in the military or in being a scholar. He’d only ever wanted to lead and to help people like his nomon. If he wasn’t going to be heda, he feared he wouldn’t be anything. He’d be purposeless. A waste. Either way he’d be miserable, but at least this way he’d be worth something.

“I see.” Her lips pursed into a thin line. She plucked tufts of grass out of the ground absentmindedly as she looked up at the moon, and he didn’t know what to say. The truth—how he really felt—would wound her too much.

“You know I almost got married before your nomon?”

The news shocked him so much it wrestled a laugh from his throat. “No?”

She smiled thinly. “I did. You remember Harper Byrns?”

“No way! The Fox Clan general?!” He sat up a bit straighter. “The one everyone’s terrified of?”

His mom snorted. “Yes well, not everyone. I loved her very much.”

He frowned. He’d never had much time for crushes or dating. They were fickle and a waste of the future commander’s time. If love was meant to find him, it would. Just like it had found nomon.

“So, why didn’t you? Marry her?”

“I was frightened.” She let out a wistful sigh. “I’d spent my whole life running away. My mother hadn’t wanted me, my people were afraid of me, and even though my brother wanted me, he couldn’t stop hurting me. So my whole life all I did was run away to the wilderness, convinced I could never fit anywhere or with anyone. Even if it was brutal at times, it understood me. And I understood it. Being in the wild, running free, only worried about myself, it wasn’t always easy, but it was simple, and it made me happy. It was where I thought I belonged.”

 She shut her eyes again and shook her head. “Then I had Harper. And Harper, oh she’d have done anything for me. If I asked her for the moon she’d have sent an army out to pull it down from the sky. Harper was never afraid of me, and never once cruel to me. She didn’t want me to be anything or change in any way. She was—impossible. She defied everything I thought I knew about people, and about myself too.”

It was silly, but he felt a little defensive on his nomon’s behalf. His mom had never so much as given anyone else the time of day. Hearing her talk like this—it felt wrong. But he was painfully curious.

“But you didn’t marry her.”

His mom made a noise that sounded a bit like a laugh and a bit like a heavy, weary sigh. “No. No I didn’t. I ran away. Three months before we were meant to get married.”

Dvalinn winced, “...Why?”

“I was terrified. I thought that I knew who I was. I thought I knew how the world worked and what my place in it was. I didn’t belong with other people. I couldn’t be a wife. I was frightened of what I would become if I let myself stay and be changed by her love. I thought a lot of silly things until they all piled up into a mountain between us, and instead of facing it together, I ran.”

Dvalinn stared down at his hands. Now he knew what she meant by it all. 

“But you met nomon.” He said, trying to shift away from her point.

“I did. Years later. After a lot of heartache and a lot of tears and loneliness. Somehow, impossibly, I was given another chance, and I took the risk. I stayed. I let myself be loved—and changed. And what a beautiful life it has been… I never dreamed I could be this happy.”

His mom put her hand overtop of his and squeezed it.

“I understand what it feels like to be where you are. To be standing at a fork in the road and on one side is nothing but an unknowable darkness, and on the other is everything that makes sense, but won’t make you happy anymore.” She turned and reached out to take his face in her hands, and he let her. “I also know that your nomon took my hand and walked with me into the unknown. She stayed by my side and when I didn’t have any strength of my own, she gave me hers.”

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and then put her forehead against his. “And I know she’ll do the same for you. We both will. It won’t be easy, and you’ll have to be tough—but we can do this together. You just have to let us.”

Dvalinn squeezed her hands tightly, drawing in a shaking breath. His mother stood up and walked back toward the treeline, giving him one last look before disappearing into the woods. He considered following after her, but then stopped himself. He needed some time to think.

He had a choice to make.

[kenpxchi]

{ miracles. }

Never before in his life has the Valkyrie asked so many questions. Rather, he has never asked one question so many times.

There have been occasions when he has had to ask many questions, when his curiosity about the world beyond the Silbern grew too great to contain. He would greet one of the younger Soldat, or perhaps one of his fellows in the Sternritter, and ask them question after question about how much the world had changed, how far humankind had come in the nine centuries that he had been standing guard over the form of His Majesty. He listened with awe and pride, his hope in humankind rising like a flooding river. They had come so far, and done so much, despite their short lives. The Quincy are a testament to their resilience, their drive, their passion. Within His Majesty, he sees the urge of man to tear the divine from the heavens, to uproot the order of cruelty and usher in an age of paradise. And so, when His Majesty awakened, he was happy to mark himself with the Miracle, to embed that hope into his very soul, and use it as a weapon. A heart is made to hope, to dream, after all.

And yet he keeps finding himself asking the same question over and over again: “How?”

The Seireitei and Soul Palace lie in ruins. The Gōtei Thirteen were decimated, the Zero Division have failed, the Soul King is dead, and His Majesty has taken the throne that rightfully belongs to him. The war is over and the Quincy have won, finally taking their righteous vengeance upon the afterlife itself. So how can they still be fighting? How do they still find the strength to stand, when the embodiment of hope opposes them? How do they fight on? This is not the way the story is supposed to go. He swore that he would never fail His Majesty again, never leave a task undone, never leave a foe alive. And the Miracle has carried him through each bout. So how is this battle so different?

It’s certainly grander in scale, for one.

The shadow of his form falls over the very Soul Palace itself, remade in His Majesty’s image. Allies and enemies are indistinguishable specks, of comparable size to ants. And yet, he does not fall, though each of his feet would crush one of the five platforms linked to the central structure if he were to alight on them. Four wings sprout from his back, shining with the splendor of a midday sun, bathing the once-decrepit prison in blinding brilliance. He is a mountain range, an ocean, his scale nigh-continental. The Valkyrie had never imagined that Aschetonig would carry him to these heights. No one had been able to inflict this much damage to him, not even Lille. With this colossal stature comes an ocean of might, his body’s reserves magnified to an impossible level. Golden, glowing eyes momentarily flash towards a blast from the main palace. He perceives it in slow motion, his eyes able to track each individual fragment of rock as they begin their long, tumbling journey downwards into the Seireitei’s ruins. He moves with equal rapidity, Hirenkyaku transforming his already massive strides into swift, unseen steps, moving with such rapidity that it’s as if he simply appeared. Whenever he unleashes one of his arrows, he watches it rocket off into the distance, before it explodes with enough force to blast the very stars from the firmament above, another sunrise to complement the quartet of his wings. He is a testament to his people, their magnificence, their glory, their unparalleled might.

And somehow... In the face of all of it, somehow, some way, his opponent is still there.

He can see the thing running up his arm. Those legs carry him at a feverish pace, that wicked, demonic leer still on that blood-red face. It waves the weapon in its hand like a feral maniac, no stance, no guard, no sapience behind those feral, blank eyes. A hand the breadth of a skyscraper rises to swat the incoming beast like a gnat, the force of the swing enough to shatter the air in its wake, the sonic boom kicking up a gust that can be felt even at the edge of this realm, every pane of glass shattering, nearby buildings crumbling, pulverized from the force of the movement. Far below, Soldat and Shinigami alike gaze into the sky. Some fear that the Visionary has drawn another body from the heavens, to send it toppling down upon everyone again. Others fear the wrath of His Majesty, taking the form of a mighty thunderstorm. None know the truth, none could comprehend the sheer scope of the conflict taking place. The arm alone could reduce their entire world into rubble with a single punch, and--

When the arm moves back, it somehow ends at the wrist, the severed hand tumbling into the distance. How did it get cut? How is this fiend still getting closer? He can see them forming across his arm, despite the pain being eclipsed by the loss of his hand, which is already starting to reform. Bruises. Ugly purple marks upon his divine skin, left in the wake of this monster’s path. Just his footfalls are enough to bruise him. How? Hoffnung already lies shattered, the twin halves of its mountainous blade held aloft by conjured ice. How did the demon not lie dead, after shattering the blade of hope? This is an impossibility. The Miracle alters chance, twists fate, and chokes the life out of certainty. It grants him the might to overcome any foe, any threat to His Majesty. So how is it that this thing, this wretched beast drawn from the fell pits of this hellish afterlife, remains in the face of all this miraculous power?

The blade falls again, and somehow, impossibly, the arm is severed at the bicep, a sea’s worth of blood spilling from the wound, and the horned menace is already at his shoulder. He can see into those eyes. Hollow, bone-white, blank, contrasting the golden glory of his own. Was this what Gremmy felt when facing this beast? The sheer incomprehensibility of it all is like a hammer through the immaculate stained-glass window of Gerard’s faith. No. The paladin slays the demon, the knight beheads the dragon, the noble warrior crushes the monster, for his heart is pure and his quest is just and good. The tales his people told of him, how he carved creation from the casques of monsters, how he gave the world form and chased the remnants of the primordial beasts into the skies, how he had given them hope and light and a being to aspire towards. They could not be failed again.

Teeth the size of houses part, and the roar that rises from behind the divine helm rumbles throughout all of creation. Even those in the World of the Living, the humans that Gerard so loves, look to the skies as the earth rumbles. They pray for salvation, they hope for a better world, they are counting on him. The wings unfurl to their full length, stretching to the edge of the horizon, chunks of the palace tearing free to be broken down. Reishi coalesces into spheres of searing light, each of them a newborn star, focused and directed towards the sprinting monstrosity, to wipe him from existence, even if such devastation rends apart the Miracle himself in the process. This is his all, this is his determination, this is his cry of defiance in the face of an uncaring and cold universe.

And it is all for naught.

Blood-red fingers curl about the weapon’s haft. Black strands dance in a tempest behind twin protrusions of bone. White eyes widen at the spectacle of this nascent constellation. Within the nexus of the oncoming ruin, over the birth-scream of nebulae and the howl of its divine parent, a voice can be heard, only audible to the beast.

“see, ken-chan? i told you.           if we fight together, we can cut down everything.”

It lacks the capacity to put its reply into words, but the demon doesn’t mind. She understands. She’s the one who understands him most of all. He feels her little hand guiding his, and both hands hold on tight. His legs tense, and in the instant before the coalescing galaxy’s wrath is released, Kenpachi takes a leap, the force of the jump shattering the bones of Gerard’s shoulder, sending him rushing towards that helmed head. For the first time, there’s something more than ragged breath and feral roars coming from that mouth. Though the maelstrom overshadows the sound, eclipsing it, the laughter comes all the same.

In the space between seconds, the weapon falls. And the blade... cuts.

Time. Space. Relativistic velocity. Hope. Purity. Darkness and light. The forge of galaxies. Gravity. Fate. Destiny. Past, present, and future. All that is, all that was, all that will be, and all that never could be. Imagination. Perseverance. The beginning and the end. The void between.

All of it, carved apart.

For a moment, the brilliance magnifies tenfold, enveloping the entirety of the Soul King’s realm in a searing, immaculate sea... and then it is gone. The sea of blood, the severed limbs, the seething might of cosmic nativity. All of it gone in an instant. Cut from the tapestry of reality and unreality, by a blade that can cut through everything.

The careening beast crashes into one of the five cities, the impact visible for miles, another crater to add to the growing tally. Like a falling star, Kenpachi tumbles from the firmament, the only remaining trace of their battle the sound of his laughter. And as the blood-red star descends, though no one else can  hear, his daughter laughs with him.

[freethebook]

I want to add my 2 cents on the topic.

Lists like these are an excellent starting point but, I think, also miss the depth that characterization can reach. Good Trait/Bad Trait is itself a framing device; it's a conceit that allows for a writer to quickly generate characters based on a handful of personality traits. But "Good" traits can be used in bad ways, and "Bad" traits can be used in good ways.

The generosity of a good friend who cannot stop spending his way into crippling debt. The stubbornness of a janitor who wants his floors to shine when he mops them. The adventurousness of a protagonist who cares nothing for the consequences of her adventure. The arrogance of a master of her craft, who knows for certain that she is more learned than her facetious colleague.

These are framed as good traits and bad traits, a shorthand for traits of good personalities and bad personalities. Which is itself a shorthand for Good People and Bad People. When somebody prides themselves on their best work and refuses to accept anything less, that's not stubbornness; that's industry. When somebody gives and gives until they themselves are in dire straits, that's not generosity; that's extravagance. A little moving of the goalposts, a little No True Scotsman, and the same trait is suddenly two different people.

Now, all that said, combining traits to make characters is not inherently a bad thing. It's excellent exercise for the brain. It's just important to keep different perspectives in mind as you work. So, here's my contribution:

Brave - Blunt: Someone whose idea of bravery revolves around not avoiding challenges or discomfort. "Mincing your words is the coward's way. Speak plainly or not at all."

Compassionate - Ruthless: Someone who chooses kindness, rather than it coming naturally to them. "Oh, let me be perfectly clear. Please do not confuse my mercy for weakness."

Intelligent - Passive: Someone who is moved to inaction because they have thought out everything. "The only winning move is not to play."

Loyal - Naive: Someone who is too blinded by admiration to see the scope of what their pedestaled subject is doing. "X could never do something like that! I wouldn't support a monster!"

Empathetic - Manipulative: Someone who feels the same way others do, and uses that to control their behaviour. "Of course you're angry! That's only natural. No one would blame you if you got them back for it."

Charismatic - Cynical: Someone who is extremely skilled in winning people over, and therefore thinks that the people they win over are shallow. "People are all the same. You trot out a little line, let them feel seen, and suddenly they're falling over themselves trying to make you happy. It's boring."

Optimistic - Overconfident: Someone happy-go-lucky who refuses to entertain negative outcomes. "It'll work out. It has to! There's no way I can fail."

Generous - Opportunistic: Someone who selectively gives to people in need in order to forge connections with those people and advance their own agenda. "Aw hey, don't worry about it. I'm sure you'd do the same for me. No, really, I don't need payment. Just think of it as a favour between friends."

Confident - Rigid: Someone who makes choices and sticks by them, no matter what advice they're given to the contrary. "This is not a democracy. If you don't like it, you can leave."

Self-Disciplined - Arrogant: Someone who is in complete control of themselves, and lords it over others at any opportunity. "Is this all there is? The limit of your will? Are you truly so weak?"

Resilient - Impulsive: Someone who has learned that there are no second chances in life, and to get when the getting's good. "I say we just cut our losses and leave!"

Patient - Detached: Someone who is calm and unruffled to an unsettling degree. "Oh I know you're not a betting man. If you were one, your sense of self-preservation would've kicked in by now."

Ambitious - Calculated: Someone who can reduce human casualties to simple arithmetic. "What's a couple dead workers? They were insured."

Honest - Blindly Obedient: Someone who believes that keeping no secrets will protect them. "The rules CLEARLY state that there is a 9 o' clock curfew, and YOU are three minutes late! Sorry, no admittance. I don't make the rules."

Strategic - Overwhelmed: Someone who overthinks and is paralyzed by choice. "Five exits. Front doors? Too crowded, likely monitored. Fire escape? Sets off an alarm. Loading bay? Mm, maybe. Could be risky. Rooftop access? No way down." (By the time they get to bathroom window, they're already caught.)

Adventurous - Lack of Boundaries: Someone who pulls their friends and family into every situation they fall into, for better or worse. "C'MON, it'll be fun! Ugh, don't be a spoilsport, you need to learn how to RELAX once in a while. What's the worst that could happen?"

Wise - Denialist: Someone so secure in their knowledge and experience that they refuse to acknowledge reality. "Please, be realistic. If some disaster were happening, I'd know about it. And I don't, so there isn't."

Resourceful - Inappropriate: Someone who can think of a solution to any problem, but often at the expense of anyone nearby. "I did not STEAL ANYTHING; I BORROWED it. I will happily give it back now that I'm done wi-- Ah. Hm. I, can replace it?"

Determined - Reckless: Someone who makes ill-advised choices, but doubles down on them anyway. "How do you know it won't work? It's the best option and I'm sticking with it."

Humorous - Stubborn: Someone who will turn anything into a joke, and refuses to change if they're challenged on it. "What's wrong with me? Babe, everything."

You could honestly get a lot of mileage from any one of these, and you could even change the interpretation of these trait pairs to make a completely different character from the ones that I or the previous reblogs chose to describe. A lot of these words are treated as a kind of monolithic Platonic Ideal, when they're actually far more flexible than that. So, food for thought!

20 Compelling Positive-Negative Trait Pairs

Here are 20 positive and negative trait pairs that can create compelling character dynamics in storytelling:

1. Bravery - Recklessness: A character is courageous in the face of danger but often takes unnecessary risks.

2. Intelligence - Arrogance: A character is exceptionally smart but looks down on others.

3. Compassion - Naivety: A character is deeply caring but easily deceived due to their trusting nature.

4. Determination - Stubbornness: A character is persistent in their goals but unwilling to adapt or compromise.

5. Charisma - Manipulativeness: A character is charming and persuasive but often uses these traits to exploit others.

6. Resourcefulness - Opportunism: A character is adept at finding solutions but is also quick to exploit situations for personal gain.

7. Loyalty - Blind Obedience: A character is fiercely loyal but follows orders without question, even when they're wrong.

8. Optimism - Denial: A character remains hopeful in difficult times but often ignores harsh realities.

9. Humor - Inappropriateness: A character lightens the mood with jokes but often crosses the line with their humor.

10. Generosity - Lack of Boundaries: A character is giving and selfless but often neglects their own needs and well-being.

11. Patience - Passivity: A character is calm and tolerant but sometimes fails to take action when needed.

12. Wisdom - Cynicism: A character has deep understanding and insight but is often pessimistic about the world.

13. Confidence - Overconfidence: A character believes in their abilities but sometimes underestimates challenges.

14. Honesty - Bluntness: A character is truthful and straightforward but often insensitive in their delivery.

15. Self-discipline - Rigidity: A character maintains strong control over their actions but is inflexible and resistant to change.

16. Adventurousness - Impulsiveness: A character loves exploring and trying new things but often acts without thinking.

17. Empathy - Overwhelm: A character deeply understands and feels others' emotions but can become overwhelmed by them.

18. Ambition - Ruthlessness: A character is driven to achieve great things but willing to do anything, even unethical, to succeed.

19. Resilience - Emotional Detachment: A character can endure hardships without breaking but often seems emotionally distant.

20. Strategic - Calculative: A character excels at planning and foresight but can be cold and overly pragmatic in their decisions.

These pairs create complex, multi-dimensional characters that can drive rich, dynamic storytelling.

[ulfhrafnx]

" everything looks so much more peaceful now, doesn't it? " ( from joseph )

𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄

shrouded by her mask she takes in the scenery around them , grateful that the weariness , so deeply rooted within her now , is hidden away from view. somehow , she senses , joseph knows, it’s taken root within him as well. the past seventeen years had taken more than she suspects , even he was prepared to give — still it demanded more.  a gluttonous wheel that never stopped spinning. no matter how hard she fought to break it. inadvertently perpetuating the cycle. 

damned if you do and damned if you don’t.

there’s an eerie stillness to the world as they know it now , in that he is correct , but there is also great beauty. much to be admired in nature’s resilience , her ability to bounce back no matter how ravaged. humanity was a plague she couldn’t shake , of her yet determined to poison the well they drank from , the earth they would all one day return to. it was this very disregard for life that’d kick started their reckoning – but there’d been no lesson learned , greed and wrath still as rampant as it ever was, more so now that food and fuel was scarce.

joseph seed had promised eden but delivered his flock to purgatory , and now , that desperation brings her to his front door, she wonders if his regrets were as numerous as her own. the product of unshakable wrath and pride.

attention shifts to the judge , never far from the father , and she feels a heaviness in her chest return. she’d failed her , maesena … her heart , her light , consumed in the flames that had engulfed their previous life. a failure she would never be able to rectify. she stands here now battered and as unrecognizable as lira. hollow. kept alive only by embers that refused to die. wrath was a sin they shared and it came at a terrible price.

            ‘ sin is a beast we cannot feed.’