#listen I hold awakening near and dear to my heart

[rubywolf0201]

I know it’s late for me to celebrate this but happy 11th anniversary to the one FE game that fully got me into the FE franchise, Fire Emblem Awakening!

Here are the chibi pics of my fav 1st gen characters* taken from the Meet The Heroes website.

*: Vaike isn’t here in FEH yet as of this posting. Pls come to FEH Vaike!

[nolongerapileofashprobably]

I just want to say that BOTW/TOTK's Zelda is the first version of the character I've ever loved, and I've been a LoZ fan since OoT. It just frustrates me the way some fans lambast her for being angry at Link in BOTW and also claim she was wasted/fridged/sidelined/reduced to "pure sacrificial maiden" and had her adorable nerd personality stripped away in TOTK (also claiming her sacrifice in TOTK is an attempt to validate Rhoam's treatment of her in BOTW). I thought her arc in TOTK was a wonderful continuation of the one she had in BOTW and showed how much stronger she had grown. Poor gal can't catch a break. What are your thoughts?

….I do not know how long of an answer you expected, but I have so many thoughts. So. Many. Thoughts. And boy do I go on tangents when I should be sleeping. Anyway. Here you go :)

For the most part, I hold a lot of the Zelda’s near and dear to my heart! Though, admittedly, it comes from the fandom’s exploration of these characters rather than just purely canonical content.

But Botw/Totk Zelda…. I don’t need any ‘additional’ content or exploration beyond what we see in the games to make me absolutely love and adore her. She is the most developed Zelda and she has an amazing arc— her complex feelings regarding her own magic, the complicated relationship she had with her father, the realistic exploration of her feelings regarding Link and how they went from jealousy and dislike to acceptance and adoration.

I always find that many complex and well developed characters are nearly always wasted on those who cannot look past mistakes (especially ones that set up future developments and start plot lines). Sometimes, people fixate on the moments writers use to cement that yes, this character is in a very low point of their life and the way they cope is not the ‘good’ way to.

The first memory in botw tells us that Zelda is none too thrilled to have Link as her knight attendant and the Hylian Champion. That she’s using him to project her own frustrations regarding her own failures. Which is the very introduction used to draw us in, make us curious about her history and how Link is tied into any of it.

So many just… can’t see past the reason we are shown this memory, nor why her frustrations led her to yell at Link. Because she was absolutely powerless and unlike Link who has had the Master Sword since he was 12, she had nothing to show. And her character is constantly forced to listen to her father, to heed the teachings she was vaguely given through one-off comments her mother and grandmother said. She was forbidden to pursue her hobbies and give it all up for the sake of the prophecy.

And then, to find out that Zelda awakened her powers through love, love for Link who she initially misjudged and mistreated, is so so powerful. Because she had grown to resent the spirits and herself. But Link. She grew to not only care for Link but to fall in love with him. And that instinct, that belief, that faith, that love. That is what sparked the power within her.

Zelda finally heard the spirit in the sword. She understood her part in this fight. For so long she had struggled to find her power, and she awakened it just in time to save Link, but at the cost of everyone else she held dear.

Something I don’t think a lot of people who criticize and hate Zelda understand is that Zelda’s pure and unwavering faith in Link is her drive to make these sacrifices. She knows it will be worth it. Because she believes in Link. And she supports him in whatever way she can. The reason they don’t understand this is because they can’t see past Zelda’s initial emotions regarding Link. They can’t see how she never believed in herself but she always had unflinching faith in him once she got to know him.

Then to see her accept that her magic has been sapped from its constant, draining use for the last 100 years at the end of botw…. It is a powerful moment. She fought so long to have those powers, ones her father berated her for not having access to, but she can finally accept that she can’t hear the spirit in the sword anymore. That’s development.

And for those who think Zelda’s cute adorable nerdiness was wiped from totk obviously don’t have the greatest history of understanding context clues. Zelda legitimately geeks out in the very first opening sequence of totk.

*totk Spoilers ahead*

She goes on and on about the Imprisoning War and the Zonai, taking pictures and obviously ecstatic about the discovery. She finds the Master Sword’s ability to heal itself fascinating. She founded research teams and build a school to further education in Hyrule. She wasn’t just a nerd. She was the Princess of Nerds.

Her sacrifice in ToTK is at surface level the action of a sacrificial maiden. Those who can’t read beyond that won’t understand it any other way. They won’t see how important it is that Fi sought Zelda thousands of years into the past, when in the beginning of botw she couldn’t even hear the spirits. They won’t understand how Zelda’s unflinching faith in Link parallels Link’s unflinching loyalty to Zelda. ToTK is a zelink centered game. Yep. I said it. We all know it’s true.

The entire plot revolves around, get this, Finding Princess Zelda.

Link’s entire motivation behind this game is to find Zelda. That is quite literally all he truly wants to do. He wants to find her. He isn’t there for duty. He just simply wants to find her.

And she is in the past, ensuring Link has every possible thing to help him secure a future for Hyrule. She went from detesting her place in the prophecy, from being forced to comply to her father’s choices, to embracing her role as the Princess of Hyrule and choosing her own way of aiding Link.

Totk gave Zelda the supportive father figure and guiding mother figure she sorely lack in botw. It showed us and Zelda that despite having the things she didn’t have, they still failed. Sonia was killed. Rauru had to sacrifice himself.

Zelda had to sacrifice herself. She was known for being stubborn, perceptive, analytical, and independent. Now she is known for her kindness, her intelligence, her empathy, and her compassion. And she sacrificed it all just to give Link the Master Sword. Because she had unwavering faith he could defeat Ganondorf.

Zelda is a RIDICULOUSLY complex character who has been through so much. But complexity is lost on those who only look for the simple, easy to understand things. So she is bound to have haters.

But for those who can understand and admire that development, we see Zelda for who she is. And if it’s any consolation, so does Link. While this game didn’t officially make zelink canon, they did make it canon that Link stayed by Zelda’s side after the Calamity. Once she was gone, they again made it canon that he would not stop until she was back with him. His Zelda. The one that rambles and excitedly tells Link that so much has happened.

Botw/totk Zelda is so so complex. And for that reason alone, she will have haters. But they don’t know or understand her. Not in any way that truly matters. Because those who do understand her and love her, well, it’s pretty clear that’s the way to go if Link’s main purpose and the entirety of totk tells us.

[a-scummy-hybrid]

Some... self-reflection i guess (2023)

its funny to think about how far i've come when it comes to art this year? I mean… i did doodle art beforehand but i feel like most of it ranged from "ehhh…" to "this feels like a fluke"

Then with this year, i got my self a drawing tablet and pretty much started to properly grow in April, of course, with the help of someone that is near-and-dear to me in my heart.

Started with doodling some sketches for Fredrik Knudsen, then... sorta started my try at doodling my own arts, then like... I feel like i suddenly evolved.

Hell, even then, there are times i look at the art i draw for others or for myself and I just sorta go "Holy fuck... did I draw this? It looks fucking insane."

Its just... something, iunno, i love it. I love art, I love to look at something and then begin to imagine scenarios or possible doodle layouts to the best of my abilities. A passion inside of my mind sorta sparks, like a brainworm being awakened and taking hold of my thought process, YEARNING for me to unleash the idea upon an empty CSP canvas.

But the real enjoyment, is when I share said drawing with someone or to the person i wanted to doodle it for and they go "Oh my god... this is incredible!" Or even when i share it with my close one, they just become astonished and are proud of me... it really lights up a dark spot in my day.

Sorry for the sappy bullshit or whatever, just been... thinking about it anytime i just stare at my art. It's really a "Wow... I've come so far so quickly haven't I?"

If I had to thank some people, it'd definitely be @starry-feathers for existing and helping me with my art, teaching me things and the like, and being there all the time <3, and also MorninChai, who mentioned an idea about "drawing like shit on purpose and then sorta going from there" which is what i had done when it came to my first few art pages, and it had realized that overtime, i began improving with my doodles, so I'm very glad i also listened to that advice as well.

Also most importantly, i have to thank the inanimate symmetry tool of CSP, because the moment i learned or figured out how to activate it, i became inseparable from it.

Anyways, thats about it. Happy New Years, everypony. As a treat, have something i drew back in Jan 13, 2022.

[scaraven-archive]

asked by @flamechasr !! thank you for asking, answers under the cut!! love love

19. a memory of something funny that makes you still laugh (venti)

THE FUCKING. at the lantern rite me going "my new friend zhongli :) who i have never met before :) definitely don't know him! :)" and aether sitting here like 😐 and xiao being like (nervous as shit). oh that was priceless. unsure if ANYONE bought it at all but it was SO funny.

36. favorite moment from source (venti)

the ballads and brews event/cutscene STILL makes me want to bawl. like it's not so much a Me moment as it is a Mondstadt moment but it's so near and dear to my heart. 10/10 would hold back tears everytime

27. your partner(s) and something you loved about them (current shift: zenitsu)

SMILES SO WIDE. inotanzen + zennezu always and forever.

inosuke - HE'S SO. like he's so eccentric it's endearing, if a little embarrassing to be seen with sometimes because we have to have him act Normal...ish around people. but he's genuinely got a heart of gold and he's funny and pretty and he was my bisexual awakening in canon. love and light forever and ever

tanjiro - the kindest hearted person ever. his patience knows no bounds. he's so. shakes him like a maraca. also why are you so pretty. it should be illegal to be so perfect. wtf. he solidified my bisexual awakening. he's everything

nezuko - SHE'S SOOOOO. yes she called me inosuke at first (i genuinely thought i hallucinated that memory but no it's canon) it's ok i forgive her because she's a cutie patootie. shes so cutesits and kind and post canon she was a little bit of a trickster which is SO endearing. love love

35. How do you get memories? (ex. dreams, fanfiction, consuming source content, etc.)

usually by consuming source content + listening to music that makes me feel like home/reminds me of the source, sometimes dreams, and on rare occasions meditation!! memjams also help!

[everybodywantssomething]

oooh yes!! those musicals are ALL so good, at least what i’ve heard from them!! which reminds me, i should probably listen to groundhog day all the way through…

les mis will always hold a very… interesting place in my heart. saw is also very special to me (it helped start me on the path i’m currently on in school! which sounds a lot more ominous than it is) and i love spring awakening (enough to hitch a whole concept to its post). i’ll listen to anything as long as it’s fun, usually! and nancy drew/sherlock holmes have both been with me since i was a little child, so they’ll always have a very special place for me (even when i’m not actively into them). but generally speaking, i tend to like a little of everything so long as it’s done right!! — 🎭

I’m so sorry for my late response! I never saw a notification for a new message.

Spring Awakening is very good and near and dear to my heart. I really love a lot of the OBC cast especially Lilli Cooper and John Gallagher Jr.

Nancy Drew is lovely! Did you ever play any of the computer games by chance? Those were most of childhood.

[aminiatureworld]

Leaden Dreams

Characters: Albedo, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 1,908

Warnings: Vague depictions of sleep paralysis

Premise: In which the reader experiences sleep paralysis

Author’s Note: First time writing Kazuha! I just finished his story quest today, so I hope that I have an okay grasp on him. Still working on his talking style a bit but I adore his personality.

Also though I experience the part of sleep paralysis where you’re awake but can’t move (can’t recommend the experience) it’s usually during the day so I don’t really experience dreams. As of such if this is inaccurate in any ways I’m very sorry.

Albedo

Albedo knew about sleep paralysis on a theoretically level, knew that it was a phenomenon that caused one’s brain to awaken when the body was still fast asleep. He’d never given the concept much thought, not any more than he might any other bit of science that remained shelved in his mind.

Now that was certainly not the case.

Albedo knew the telltale signs, the small spasms that revealed the battle between your mind and your body. Knowing that you were fighting to move your limbs, open your eyes, relax your jaw, he would always speak first, knowing that you might not immediately respond.

“It’s alright my dear, I’m here. I know it’s frightening, but I promise you’ll be able to move soon. Just focus on one thing, alright? Maybe your eyes this time, since last time you tried moving your tongue. That’s it, just one thing first. It’s always better to start small.”

He wouldn’t move from his sleeping position until you regained control of your body, afraid that a sudden touch might cause you even more distress. Keeping himself carefully pressed into the mattress he didn’t fare lift his head, for fear his face might melt into something frightening. Since he knew he was helpless, his goal became to stop things from getting worse.

The moment you began to move however the alchemist would jump into action. Turning lights on he would pick up the glass of water from his nightstand before gathering you up into his arms, positioning himself so you could listen to his heartbeat as you drank. The first time it had happened he had left the room to get the glass to soon, and the memory of you curled up desperately into the covers still tugged at him.

Albedo would then go through what you had half-dreamed with you, thoroughly debunking all the distortions of your normal life. That shadowed human outside the window was a combination of the balcony and the half opened curtains. The voices were partially his own, partially your brain trying to process your own breathing. The figure hiding behind the door of the hallway was because of the boxed piled along the other side of the wall. The people dancing on the ceiling could be fixed with a repaint. Over and over he would remind you of the fact that you were safe, that your amygdala was simply going into overdrive. Over and over he would thoroughly debunk your nightmares until once more things settled into place, piles of clothing becoming one more fabric, dressers no longer dancing as if possessed.

He would tell you to wake him up if he began falling back to sleep, determined that he should be watching over you to make sure an episode didn’t happen as you were falling back asleep.

In reality though you didn’t mind if he drifted off a little before you. His breathing was a soothing melody, his slow, steady heartbeat a rhythm with which you could anchor yourself. He was staid and sure, and that was something you grasped onto desperately, something you would never stop appreciating.

Soon enough his reasons would soothe your mind, and you’d fall once more asleep.

 Kazuha

The first thing Kazuha always did was pull the blankets over you. If the outside world was threatening you, then he’d simply block it out.

Making a cocoon around the two of you he would begin to tell stories. Fairy tales, things that had happened to him during his travels, anything that you brain might latch onto. The stories were always very short and self-contained, easy to understand, and through your panic addled brain you always seemed to find them.

Sometimes when things were particularly bad he’d softly cradled your hands, careful not to move to quickly or too suddenly in case the sensation caused you to panic even more.

“Our hands fit together so well, don’t you think? I could write a poem about them, or maybe about yours. Maybe you’ll help me with it after this is over? It will be soon dearest, I know it will.”

Sometimes he would sing little songs that he’d picked up. Usually sea shanties, their rhythm helped you, less complex than poetry, more lyrical than the jagged fear that screamed at you.

Kazuha wouldn’t ask you to share immediately. When you finally moved he would first squeeze your hands gently, kissing them before your forehead, asking if it was too hot beneath the blankets, then making sure a light was on if you needed a little fresh air.

He never acknowledged what had happened before you did, but he wouldn’t pretend like it didn’t happen either. Instead he would ask if you wanted to listen to a story or tell one. Whichever you chose he would keep holding your hands, making sure that even when he gave you space there was still something that grounded you.

Sometimes when you cried he would tell a very specific story.

“There once was a warrior, brave of heart. So brave were they that shadows tried to chase them. Someone this noble cannot exist! They cried out. The warrior must be false. We will find their weakness. However no matter how hard they tried this weakness was never found. For the warrior was truly brave in heart and soul.”

Normally you might consider such a story overdone, but in those liminal moments between fear and sleep the story format helped. This was simply a harrowing part of a story, but there would surely be a better end.

 Scaramouche

Scaramouche never thought that he’d ever sleep next to you.

Humans were loud and irritating, and that only became more true when the Harbinger was trying to get a few precious hours of sleep.

However after a particularly bad week he decided that the only solution to your terrible lack of attention was to deal with the matter himself.

He wasn’t necessarily nice about it, grumbling about your poor sleeping habits, saying that this was an awful waste of time. However the moment that panic consumed you, the moment that things started to twist around you, you felt a sudden hand on your arm.

“These idiotic phantoms are nothing. Come on, I know you’re strong enough. How could you ever let something so puny win against you.”

Though you certainly didn’t agree with him about that you had to admit it helped somewhat. Though your initial panic never disappeared, it became easier to climb out of your dreams, to see a light at the end of the endless tunnel of fear.

Every time you jerked once more awake Scaramouche let himself admit some sort of relieved satisfaction.

“You’ve done it again. As you always have. I don’t know why I bother sleeping here when you’re competent enough on your own.”

Nevertheless Scaramouche would always let you embrace him, not commenting on the tears that often accompanied you. Loosely resting his arms on your back he let out exaggerated breaths.

“Will you sleep now?”

It didn’t matter if you said no. Scaramouche would simply mutter something about bad sleep habits, but he would nevertheless stay awake.

He would always fall asleep last, even when his eyes burned slightly and his body called out for rest.

If he was going through all this trouble after all, he might as well see it through to the end.

 Xiao

Xiao saw dreams as extensions of human karma, of human wants and needs and wishes.

If a human dreamt a good wish, it was a revelation of their hearts desire. If they tossed and turned with nightmares it was their fears and shames manifesting. A dream was never just a dream, a shuffle of random events and names and faces. Dreams were alive; dreams had their own wills, all connected to the will of the human they were attached too.

Xiao loathed to see you haunted by your dreams. How could someone so wonderful as your be chased by something so awful? The little that you told your partner caused a distant sort of dread. He could never understand your fear of falling asleep, but he surely felt the dread of whether or not you might be allowed peace.

The threads that surrounded you, that surrounded all humans, always tensed when you were entering an episode. Careful not to leave your side too much Xiao would light a few candles, not too much to be jarring to your eyes, not too little to add to your nightmares. If you could only open your eyes then Xiao would pay even more attention, making sure that the dim lighting didn’t add to your distress, shifting the candles or blowing them out if need be.

Xiao didn’t talk much normally, but he would keep up a steady stream of questions in these moments, even if you couldn’t answer them. Whether you were aware of his presence, whether the window being open was a problem or not, whether you needed more light or less. He would keep these questions in the back of his mind for you to answer once you could again, not only so he could do better next time, but in case the nightmares we too close to be spoken about.

Usually Xiao would ask about them again in the morning, and sometimes you would discuss it then. Though the yaksha knew that nightmares were often the fears that humans accumulated, the curses that attached themselves to unsuspecting victims, he never talked about that aspect with you, indeed when he talked about it at all. Most of the time he would just listen, tracing soft circles along your back and down your arms.

Right after an episode Xiao would make his way over to you. Most of the time he would stay in one place while the episode was happening, near the candles or by the window, making sure he didn’t startle you anymore. Now though he might move every once in a while, or turn your head softly towards him if your eyes became fixated on one spot in the room. Always he’d go to open the window, and the familiarity of the routine became something that lulled you back into a sense of piece.

Not sleeping himself Xiao never told you that you need more rest, that you should go back to sleep. If you needed to stay up the rest of the night so be it, he would be there with you. If you were too tired and found yourself drifting off to sleep he would promise to protect you, to fight off any demons that might be lurking.

Sometimes Xiao feared that his burden of curses exacerbated your sleep paralysis. Those evenings he would wait for you to sleep before slipping away. Always he would leave his sleeve and his mask, making sure that if you woke up you would still have something of his presence to comfort or protect yourself with. Those nights he would stare out into Liyue and think about all the things that he carried with him, all the things that you did too.

Regardless of those nights he would be there in the morning.

“Did you sleep well afterwards?” He would always ask. Regardless of your answer, which he would surely pay attention to after his second question, he would stare into your eyes.

“Do you think things would be easier without my presence?”

Always you said no.

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

For the ask game, this snippet but really this whole scene:

Aang’s voice filtered in through a haze, so close and yet so far out of her reach. Katara did the only thing she could think of - she extended her reach, pulling Aang’s hand from her shoulder and clutching it between her own. He was there, his pulse was beating, he -

“He killed you, Aang!” She was sobbing and she didn’t care, everything just hurt - “He stood there and watched as Azula shot you down! If I had used the spirit water on him - if I had gotten to you a second later, Aang, then you’d be - you’d be -”

Her voice cracked, and she couldn’t finish the thought.

It was Zuko’s fault. He had betrayed them, stood listlessly by while she could only -

Another sob heaved through Katara’s chest. No. No, it was no one’s fault but her own. She had made the mistake of trusting Zuko. She had considered sacrificing the spirit water. It was her, only her, who had been too slow to save - to save -

Black snow rained down, stinging Katara’s skin and mixing with her tears. How was the pain so real when the past was so long gone? Why hadn’t she run faster -

“Katara, I need you to listen to me. You are going to get through this moment. The first thing we’re going to do is synchronize our breathing, okay? I know you can do this.”

Katara looked up, and for a moment she saw her mother smiling down at her.

You can do this, sweetie.

She blinked, and her mother vanished, replaced by a worried Aang sitting before her, his hand still caught between her own.

ahhhhh broken pieces still belong, a fic i hold near and dear to my heart even as i look back and cringe at my old writing with its stilted dialogue

that scene, which takes place during the tsr portion of the fic, was one of the breaking points of the story, and by that i mean it was one of the moments where we really see katara break (into pieces, as it were) and try to reckon with the guilt, anger, and grief she holds inside. one of katara's most significant traits is her passion, and that passion can be all-consuming, especially when it manifests toward herself. not only do we know katara's grief for her mother is incredibly intense (there's a reason it's a through-line within the show), but from tsr, i think we can tell her grief is tied up in personal guilt. she feels like she abandoned her mother to die, and that coinciding of guilt and grief is only compounded by numerous other questions: what if she'd been a better waterbender (could she have protected her mother), what if she had stayed with her mother instead of running (could she have saved her mother, could they have lived or died together), etc. that mixture is one of the reasons the entire point of tsr isn't whether katara must forgive yon rha, but how she can learn to forgive herself, and that she isn't betraying her mother's memory by trying to move on and trying to see good in the fire nation (in this case, in zuko, hence her also taking the first steps to forgive zuko at the end of tsr and my fic) despite all the fire nation has taken from her, her family, and her friends.

furthermore, throughout atla, aang's presence and his relationship with katara in many ways resonates with her connection with the southern water tribe, including her mother.* aang letting zuko take him away in chains parallels hama being taken from the swt for a reason. the implicit guilt katara feels about aang's death, which we mostly see in the awakening (their healing sessions, katara's outburst towards hakoda [an outburst that is as much about her father as it is about aang, i don't want to disregard that]), is eerily similar to the guilt and grief surrounding her mother's death, the only difference is that the what if? manifests slightly differently (because aang ultimately lived, while her mother did not; the reason katara reaches for aang at the beginning of this snippet is to remind herself that he is there, he is alive, he is present). katara is angry at the fire nation soldier (yon rha, as she soon learns in my fic) for killing her mother, but above all she is angry at herself for not stopping him. katara is angry at zuko for doing nothing to stop azula from killing aang (with elements of displacement because zuko is there for her to be angry at while azula is not... mwah), but above all she is angry at herself for not stopping either of them. my extrapolation, of course, includes contemplation on the brutal reality that katara used the spirit water on aang and he barely survived. like, he was in a coma for several weeks. in my opinion, it is only logical that katara would at some point have realized how close aang came to never waking up, because she almost used the spirit water on zuko, which thus only adds to her turmoil over her guilt and grief and her anger towards zuko (who had attacked her and her friends for all of book 1, then seemingly showed a semblance of humanity toward katara at the end of book 2 before immediately pulling a 180 to help his sister kill aang, i mean the internal conflict katara must have toward zuko is unbelievably nuanced -- especially with him once again doing a 180 near the end of book 3 to try to join the gaang -- which was one of the reasons i wrote broken pieces still belong in the first place).

so, because of the ways i see katara's grief and guilt toward her mother's and aang's deaths overlapping, as well as the role of the fire nation in those deaths respectively, it was only logical to me that in this moment, in this breaking point where katara shatters, all of those emotions would begin bleeding together, hence why katara's thoughts race from aang's death to zuko's betrayal to her mother's death, all while she grapples with her own role in each. did her mother die because she wasn't fast enough? did zuko betray her because she wasn't convincing enough? did aang die because she showed kindness to the wrong person? and we know the blame doesn't actually fall on katara's shoulders, but grief and guilt are far more complex than simple 'knowing,' hence why i sought to interweave all of these concepts into this scene (and why we flit between kya and aang caring for/looking after katara at the end of this snippet).

basically, this scene is important because it's the first moment everything comes to a head for katara, and it breaks her. but, because katara finally begins the gradual process of confrontation in this scene, it is also cathartic. it is relieving. as much as katara knows she is hurting, this scene is also when she realizes that healing is not some unachievable goal for her. she's tired of being angry, she's tired of feeling guilty, and she wants to find peace. that's why katara decides to begin patching things up with zuko, because she knows she's only hurting herself by allowing her pent-up hurt to consume her.

and because i am evil, this scene then ends with zuko proceeding to tell katara that he's found the man who killed her mother, which sends her right into another destructive spiral >:)

*broke: katara is like aang's mother / woke: aang is like katara's mother im sorry but im not

[samissosexyyy]

Tumblr thought it would be hilarious to delete all my work and not let me answer requests :').

YES I SHALL WRITE THE PLATONIC ANGRY PARENTS-

And thank you-I woke up and was talking to my friend in the morning and my brain just: jojo villain yandere dads. Mudad mudad mudad mudad anger.

Anyways, here they are- Do these even count as headcanons???? I dunno-

Dio, Part 1

Vampire form of course.

First thing first, We all know he'd be a great dad. Protective already, But make him a yandere platonic father? Oh boy, Trust me, You'd be spoiled and treated like royalty.

Now, I'm gonna say in this scenario you were on of his victims child. I'll say you'll be around 5 to eight.

Somehow you managed to catch his eye, Is it because your parent was just as bad as his? You reminded him of his mother? Or maybe you resemble him, and have three moles on your ear. Or, perhaps, A younger joestar? Either way, You somehow had him feeling like a father, and, according to one of my friends, Araki had said DIO would treat his children like they were royalty, And they would be so spoiled.

So, Mudad would end up taking you in, kidnapping, whichever honestly. He'd be holding you like a loving pet owner would, if you got scared, he'd probably be confused. Honestly he'd have you turned into a vampire quickly, as he knew he wouldn't be able to have children as a Vampire.

Truthfully, I think you'd end up never noticing how he'd occasionally pull you closer, or how he'd glare at anyone your age or older going near you. Or how he'd give you some strict rules, Like no dating anyone. E v e r. And why would you ever want to hurt your papa like that?! You wouldn't want to do that, right?! Of course you wouldn't! Dio knew you'd never betray him like that!!

Truth be told, he'd guilt you if you tried to go against his words. But punishments? No no, He'd never actually purposefully hurt you, Unlike his love interest, he'd NEVER want to cause you pain ever. He'd hate himself and wouldn't forgive himself for years. Centuries. Infact, he'd beg for your forgiveness.

The Pillarmen

And satannnaaaaa

First of all, You aren't a pillarchild. You'd most likely be some kind of god, vampire, or a young hamon learner. Or even related to the Joestars or Ceasar.

So, Let's say you're immortal who can walk in the sun. We all know you'd be the joestar side, Right? So, That means you'd end up hating or feeling pity for the pillarmen. First, You'd probably end up trying to make Santana hally when he awakens. Unlike with Joseph, He'd probably know not to attempt to attack you. Let's say you have symbols like Dio Over heaven, We all know how that would work.

You'd end up as a being worshipped by them, probably kidnapped after they destroy the Joestars.

Let's say they defeated Joseph and the others, and you were still a deity, You'd most likely be weaker then them in this scenario. They'd probably treat you like a kitten at first, like a baby before they all felt a connection. As if you were a child of their own, so they'd give you rules. And we all know how rules go with yanderes.

Let's say uh- you fell for a mortal.

"No. No."

[Crush name has fallen from a high place.]

"DADS WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUU-"

"NO CUSSING IN THIS CHRISTIAN MINECRAFT SERVER!"

or something like that :')

Honestly, You'd have bird dad, and a bunch of other dads. Santana would honestly be like the cool big brother honestly. You'd probably want horns too so-

They would totally buy you halloween horns to put on your head so you'd be happy baby

Now, Hamon user? They'd probably find you like a cute animal at first, probably going easy on you like it was a game of tag. Soon, they'd realize how weak and fragile you are, After all, You are just starting hamon. They'd probably kidnap you to spite Joseph and his side at first, before... Well, You didn't expect to become a vampire and treated like royalty when all you've been treated like is uh... Considering Lisalisa is your coach, I'd say you'd be happy if it was someone else doing this for you.

Josephs sibling? WOAH Joseph, When did you get a cute sibling? Pfft, Not your sibling anymore, They just adopted your ex sibling nerd.

But, All jokes aside, They'd probably be surprised that you were more mature then your brother, and...you sorta resemble a certain Coach... Oh, Humans all look the same, haha.

They'd probably kidnap you infront of Joseph just to make him feel guilt and rage, After all, Why not get their prized treasure and make Joseph angry? They'd give you more rules, until Joseph was gone, of course.

And, sadly, Not even you crying would stop them from making you into a vampire infront of your big brother, breaking both of your hearts.

Don't worry you got ice cream later smh.

Ceasars sibling? Mini pancake? Haha, They'd kidnap you as soon as they felt parent like tendencies. No denying them, infact, they'd make sure you saw ceasar get defeated by the ro ck. But don't worry! You have new parents and a brother-! Haha, Poor you.

Part 3 DIO AKA mudad!

Honest to god you'd probably have to be a stand user with a weak or strong stand, or, you were one of his kids he had with a lucky woman who survived and got a naked polaroid of him as a 'wow you lived! Congrats, now go have my kid lmao' gift. Or, Maybe you were a normal kid who was kind to him, even if he,,,,  did some questionable murder infront of you. And maybe you were a young

Now, Let's say you were a strong stand user. He'd end up wanting to use a flesh bud until he realized... He never had a kid, that he knows of, and decided to raise you! At first he'd be upset you had a strong stand like your mudad, but realized you could protect yourself from those dreadful joestars! Congrats, You became a Brando! :) How unlucky, Considering this DIO would probably force vampire masks onto you, or even using fleshbuds as a threat. Either way, You'll always be papas baby!

Yoshikage kira.

Like I said in my first post of this, He'd want to have a nice average life. You having a stand wouldn't be a problem, Since he'd probably convince you Josuke and the others are awful and rude.

Josukes sibling? Well, He'd end up telling you he can help your brother with his murder issue if you come with him. You don't exactly have a choice since Killer queen would easily overpower you if you had disagreed. You'd end up being a normal and peaceful child before long, Infact, He'd have to pretend he had adopted you behind his 'wifes' back.

Hayotos friend he never talks about? Congrats, You are now stuck with a crazy and loving father! And a mother, I suppose. And you get your best friend as a brother! You'd never be able to leave, how sad. But, You'd have your new mom and your dad to talk to-! And killer queen cuddle time.

Now, Let's say you were his own kid. Wowzers! You think its normal for your father to bring women hands home, after all, You are pretty young and your father told you most adults do this. Ah. How enjoyable.

Doppio/Diavolo

Oh dear. You poor child.

Either you were related to trish, and he somehow felt like you wouldn't be a problem before they felt more of a father love towards you, Most likely somehow getting rif of the traitors and your big sister.

"Where's big sister?"

"Don't worry about her, She's spending time with your mother."

Smh quit LIEING you jERK!

But seriously, Doppio would be like the fun mom asking you if you'd like bake cupcakes in his spare time! Read you bed time stories and whatnot! Diavolo would be awkward and "wanna play baseball or whatever kids like to do these days?" Awkward dad alert.

"My kid is fine!"

The kid they kidnapped/raised:

Casually trying to beat another kid with a baseball.❤💚💛

Honestly they'd insult everyone elses kids while here their kid is, casually scared of baseball.

Pucci

Papa priest! We all know he'd adopt you! I head canon him as gay, considering DIO and him were totally a thing.

So, He'd probably have you study Lord DIO bibles, and casually have you hate Jolyne. Probably even give you a stand, And even show you that DIO is the best! Worship! Protect yourself and all that!

Jotaro would probably scare you,  so I can see you holding onto Pucci while Jotaro appears anytime, so pucci would infact love it when you snuggle onto him lime a cute kitten. Hell, you even Sneeze like a kitten!

Honestly You'd be kept under watch 24/7, but you'd think it was normal, after all, Your father would mever do something so awful like Those Joestars claim...right?

Diego

Oh wow- dino dad :)

Let's say you were a big fan of his, Then, Well,You wouldn't mind having him as a dad, Now would you? He is your idol, Right? Yeah. Yeah!

He'd probably carry you around upside down, Hot pants just questioning his sanity as he drops you a million times. Hot pants would probably end up carrying you most of the time.

Mama hot pants and father Diego. Y es.

And, Let's say you were traveling with Johnny. Congrats. You've put yourself in a even worse situation considering Diego would become worried and paranoid over those two idiots hurting you! And he hates the idea of his baby boy/girl/child being hurt by barbarians!!!

Even though he'd probably hurt you on accident if I'm gonna be honest.

Kidnapping isn't a very easy job, so of course he had to knock you out! What was he supposed to do?! Ask you to come stay with him forever?! No! Maybe! HuawhuKaia-

Honestly not too many rules, just don't leave his side ever! Except when going to the bathroom. You'll be tied to his horse. No whining >:(.

Funny Valentine

Honestly what did you think he was going to do? Pick some random child? No no, He'd choose the PERFECT child! You were so lucky! Wow! The daughter of the mos powerful man ever! Lucky you, Right?

No. You don't get alone time unless it's you sleeping or bathing. You wear what he wants, and no.

Dating not allowed. Bad. No no no no no.

"No. No dating. Your lips will fall off."

"but mommys lips didn't-"

"Your face will melt off."

Basically you'd be bossed around and treated like royalty, as long as you listen to you dad!

Honestly I don't know if this is headcanons, if if it isn't feel free to scream at me in the comments-

AND I AM SO SORRY ABOUT NOT BEING ABLE TO ACTUALLY ANSWER, SO I HOPE YOU SEE THIS AND ARE ABLE TO ENJOY IT??? I GUESS???

[namelesswolffreak]

"Boyfriends"

I've been working on this story concept for....3-4 years now and I've finally managed to work everything out to the point I'm confident in posting this little blurb of the main characters. So, I hope you enjoy and feel free to ask questions about them and their world.

Context: This takes place in a world of super powered people heavily inspired by MHA / Marvel / Miraculous. Waker (Way-kur) Atlas is Dare City's main hero who is put through quite a lot on a daily to weekly basis trying to beat the baddies and Cyrus Fauthrin is his infamous thief arch nemesis turned lover and best friend who causes trouble around the city just to get the Hero's attention.

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

The melancholy of the day was waning on Waker as he patrolled the quiet streets of one of Dare’s many neighborhoods which was quite unusual considering every seven seconds a villain was after his head. The sun was barely above the clouds, no one was really awake yet and the only thing that accompanied him was his footsteps as he jumped, hopped and skipped to the next platform he summoned under his feet. He happened to be bounding over Lay Wind Park, the foxes fast asleep in their dens to his disappointment, but the Hero Monuments were still a sight to behold in the early sunrise as they shone with brilliance in what little light was filtering over the surrounding hillsides.

The wind blew past his frizzed locks as he stood above the park near a tree in the shade, expression steeled and focused as he watched for signs of trouble as he waited for a certain someone to arrive. Today was uneventful and rather slow, the kind of day Waker preferred if he were being honest. Heaven knew being bored all day was ten times better than returning home to the countless kitchen sink surgeries he’d have to do with worn needles and his mother’s thread pinching into his skin as he sewed up bloodied wounds full of shrapnel and debris. Much better. The birds were chirping a happy, lazy song as they flew by on the breeze and the distant hum of an awakening city filled the natural ambiance of cicadas and crickets quite nicely as he watched and waited. He dare let out a sigh as the scene took hold of him fully, a warmth washing over him that he hadn’t felt in the recent weeks.

Which wouldn’t be for long as the rustling of tree leaves and a “Boo!” have him falling off of his platforms and hurtling towards the ground with an embarrassingly shrill scream.

“Waker!” A concerned voice follows as a blue blur dives after him.

Ground spiraling as he falls, Waker braces for impact, too late to conjure any platforms beneath him to break the fall so, he readies himself, waiting for the hurt and pain that would surely follow with some scrapes and bruises…………...But it never comes. He unscrunches his eyes and removes his arms from his head to see a blue, sparkling light surrounding him.

Irritation and embarrassment take over him immediately.

His face turns a copious amount of red as he’s carefully scooped up in pale arms that hold him close and, humiliatingly enough, in bridal style. Oh god no, he curses mentally, murmuring a soft “No…” into his shield of arms. This was so not how he wanted to show up in front of his partner after their long and grueling few weeks of not being able to see each other outside of villain fights and breaks in between their testing week.

The sudden warmth of a chest presses against his side and the delicate rhythm of a frantic heart race beneath his one hand as the other quickly grabs for his cape to hide his strawberry cheeks. There was no way in hell he was letting ‘he knew who’ see him in such a state, there was no possible way he could let the witch-like thief catch him like this. A brave hero didn’t get scared or spooked by rustling leaves and the word boo! Absolutely absurd! Though a voice in the back of his mind said he already had.

“You are such a fucking clutz, I swear.” And a huge scaredy cat, the blue-clad ravenette doesn’t say aloud, but his tone implies anyways. “I should take you to my ballet classes sometime, maybe then you’d actually learn some balance.” The comment only makes him clutch the soft fabric tighter around himself.

He’s loathing the thought of unveiling himself now, but he knows he’s been caught, his normally stoic or serious persona now broken and practically burned away as he knows his cape isn’t doing much to hide his warm face or the tenseness of his grip. Plans to forever sink himself into a hole where nobody could possibly ever find him again after this mess are shortly abandoned for now and gaining courage Waker swallows the huge lump in his throat and tries to cleverly reply. “H-hey, what’s a-....What’s up, Witch Boy?” And he knows the intended playfulness doesn’t go through as he’s met with a narrowed glare.

The other isn’t amused. “Witch boy, really? Did I actually scare you that badly that you lost a couple of brain cells?”

“Shu-shut up, Cyrus!” He defends as this “Cyrus” just sighs at him, though his stare more sly than pointed now.

“Get out of that stupid thing so I can see your face.” He says with a tremble in his voice that Waker can definitely tell is laughter, the prick. “Or I’ll totally drop you again.” And like hell he will, Waker knows, but he takes the threat seriously nonetheless and loosens his grip on the cape just enough to see the Ravenette’s brilliant and ever playful smile.

For a moment Waker just stares and admires him, those brilliant blues sparkling, no, literally sparkling as he says something Waker doesn’t catch. The sun is framing his face so perfectly in the light, highlighting those perfectly red cheeks he would love to kiss every morning, and the slight upturn of his lips as he smiles down in reverence at him, and the slow flutter of his lashes that compliment his features nicely. Though braided off to the side Cyru’s hair never fails to make him look so ethereal as the gentle morning breeze brushes back his loose strands. Waker swears it looks like its made up of space itself when he lets it go during the night time, convincing himself he can see stars within the strands when he stands beneath the moonlight. It doesn’t take much to make the hero swoon regarding his partner nowadays. Daydreams of peaceful nights alone on the couch watching movies together after his nightmares keep him awake and alert run through his mind, or the times Cyrus has saved him from getting beaten to a pulp and they spent hours talking over stitching him back together about nothing at all, and every single time Cyrus has stuck up for him at school, reminding him of the warmth this person carries with them and all the love and affection he’s constantly showered in when they’re together. It’s strange how much Cyrus has changed over the past few months from raging emo to ride or die friend, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. He doesn’t even try to stop the lofty sigh that escapes his lips as more dear memories cross his mind.

And Cyrus is all too quick to recognize that dumb look on his face.

“Oh, hell no!” Is the only warning he gets before being promptly dropped, this time no blue aura to save him from hitting the dirt below, landing with a thud. “Not this early in the morning!” Though Waker could have sworn Cyrus was sharing the same look with him not minutes prior.

“Ow! Why’d you drop me, asshole!?”

Cyrus cocks his hips as he floats there, his wide brimmed conical now covering his eyes in an intimidating manner, making him way more menacing than he should considering his current attire. “Oh please, don’t even act like you’re hiding that stupid look on your face, Idiot! I ain’t dealing with your whole sappy dappy act this early in the morning.”

By “sappy dappy” Waker knows exactly what he’s referring to and scowls accordingly. Apparently, holding hands and having morning cuddles while complimenting everything about Cyrus is considered sappy and lovingly disgusting. Well at least to some people, it’s called affection and admiration!

“It’s a look that means I like you, asswipe!” Waker shoots back, malice nowhere to be found in his tone though, barring more on playfulness.

“Do you think I’m in love with you or something!?”

And they then stand there -well float there- in silence, both looking each other in the eyes, narrowed brows testing the other to make the next move or say the next snappy comment. And for a moment it looks as if the words really have cut too deep, but Waker isn’t one to remain serious for long as his shoulders begin to shake, prompting the other to clutch his stomach and stifle a grin as their eyes water over with laughter.

“Oh, no, not me, I could never.” Waker quips, leaning back and hugging both his arms, not caring for the dirt now caking his suit. Cyrus is quick to come back with his own natural snark.

“Pfft, as if! Absolutely not. Me and you, the orange haired frizz ball who kicks my ass more than twice a week over that one time I stole a candy bar? You gotta be fucking with me!” He bellows, Waker taking note of the boy flipping upside down where he floats in the air, his face a contortion of joy and happiness as his ripped dress flows with the wind.

He finds the display rather adorable, recalling that such a thing only occurred by accident when the thief was getting emotional. His inept ability to control his powers never failed to amuse the Hero. The little wrinkle of his nose didn’t quiet his thoughtful admiration either as he blushed in between bouts of giggles.

"I wouldn't have time to be your lover anyways!"

“It’s only 6am, when can I admire my boyfriend so it fits within your busy schedule?”

And the laughter is immediately quieted, a heavy silence filling the air, even the crickets and cicadas falling victim to it. The world is waiting in bated breath as if listening to the drama unfold.

Waker holds in a breath. Oh shit, oh fuck, he really fucked it up this time! Way to go, Atlas, you really did a number on today!

…………

………….

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I just did-”

“It’s ok……” Cyrus breaths out, taking a long drag of air before finally finishing. “It’s….ok.” He manages to lower himself to the ground, dress falling at his sides, and crosses his arms in doing so. “We’re-I’m going to have to get used to it eventually.” He shrugs. “Right?”

There’s a weight to his words as Cyrus steps closer to the redhead that Waker recognizes near immediately. They’ve had this talk before, a talk that has led to a misunderstanding or two between them in the past and a verbal fight at that. The term “Boyfriend.” It was a touchy subject to say the least and while it had been a challenge for even Waker himself to start using it, it also seemed Cyrus was struggling to accept the lofty title. A long time ago before the two even met, the word had a different meaning to it for them both, but Waker had long since come to terms with it himself, but understood Cyrus’ hesitation in saying the word freely. He considered his next words carefully.

“I know you don’t exactly like the ter-”

“It’s not that I don’t like it Waker…..”

“I know, Cy, but.” Failing to put his thoughts into words Waker scrambles forward to catch Cyrus’ hands in his own, pecking each delicately, square on the knuckles, gauging his reaction whilst he does so. When Waker is met with a soft smile, he returns it, though his much softer and kinder in Cyrus’ eyes. “I shouldn’t have said it when you’re not ready. Just because I moved past it doesn’t mean you have.” Noticing his smile slipping he clumsily adds in, “And that’s ok! Really, it’s ok and I mean, and I love you and-uh, I get it and I mean I just say boyfriend because that’s what everyone else says, expects- wait no- I didn’t mean to phrase it like that uh-I don’t really get the need for a title for what we have anyways, like so dumb right!?”

Followed by more ridiculous rambling that has Cyrus covering his mouth trying not to giggle. It’s a nervous habit that has come to amuse the thief to no end. “And-it not like it means anything to us, its just there for other people so they know that um, we, us, you and I are an um item I guess wow that was cheesy and dumb and I am so sorry that you have to put up with me oh god I’m rambling and no, don’t look at me like that. I’m doing the thing again aren’t I-” Shaking with laughter again Cyrus has to put a hand on his shoulder to get him to shut up because he knows if he doesn’t Waker could go on well into the night and has before. It didn’t help that he could feel the tremble of the others fingers, realizing Waker was going to throw himself into an anxiety attack if he didn’t.

“Waker!” And Waker promptly closes his mouth, panic clear in his eyes that Cyrus quickly combats by brushing strands of orange out of his face and behind his ear. “Just take a deep breath.” And Waker does, following the instruction intently. “And let it out, slowly.” And Waker follows that too, looking that much calmer as Cyrus pulls him closer. “Slowly.” He rubs his thumbs over Waker’s hands. The trembling is still present, but less so. “There you go.” And doesn’t stop telling him to breath calmly until he feels Waker’s grip relax in his own.

Delicately and softly, each flyaway is combed back into place only to immediately pop out again, but Waker appreciates the sentiment anyways and Cyrus has no problem being given an excuse to keep combing through such lovely soft tufts. He loves the soft mane of fluff on his partner’s head that even since their first meeting has remained as untamed and wild as ever. -Such a shame he always ties it back when he’s on duty though- It just adds to the contrast between his actual self and hero persona, the sweet and endearing ball of anxiety vs the serious and battle ready hero of Dare city who couldn’t catch a break. And he wouldn’t be ashamed to admit to which one he preferred.

“You don’t need to tell me-er.” Waker quickly corrects, trying not to sound patronizing. “I don’t need you to explain yourself Cy. You-we don’t need to have a name if that’s what you want, that’s what I’m trying to say. Official or unofficial or whatever, I won’t treat you any different.”

“I know Waker. I…..I really want to call you that, just I-.......I just like what we have right now and-”

Waker just pecks him on the cheek quickly and pulls away to pat at a spot on the ground, looking longingly back up at him. A soundless “You don’t want to lose me.” goes unsaid as Cyrus complies, Waker taking the shorter one in his arms once more.

It wasn’t a matter of Cyrus being afraid to commit, though maybe it was, not even he was sure of what was going with himself anymore, but a fear that the wonderful friendship he’d built up with the hero would end or change or just not be the way it is now because they suddenly started calling each other boyfriends. He’s had it happen one too many times at this point, every one of his previous “boyfriends” changing everything once they started dating, acting as if kissing and romantic outings were supposed to be their only interactions from now on. They were no longer interested in the random silly things he found on the internet or just hanging out doing whatever, but were interested in using him, his body, parading him around and rubbing it in peoples faces, being denied having fun if it wasn’t their idea of “fun” and more. Cyrus' stomach curls remembering being ignored for weeks to months at a time because he wasn’t feeling up to being in bed with them or awkwardly sitting off to the side while his one boyfriend at the time showed him off to his friends and bragged. It was the same guy who he used to play videogames and eat cookies with on the weekends, talking about anything and everything…...It hurts him to realise there probably was never a friendship there to begin with. Just an elaborate ruse to get him into bed at some point.

And that was one thing Cyrus feared when they had held hands for the first time after awkwardly admitting to harboring feelings for each other after the high of a fight they were forced to join sides on. Never had the thief felt more relieved that his feelings were reciprocated, but also more scared that he had just ruined the one healthy relationship he managed to make in those many months spent together.

Cyrus removes his hat and huddles under Waker’s chin, placing his head right on his heart that gives out a steady, comforting rhythm and brightens when the taller of the two puts his head on him in return. No, Cyrus thinks, this is different.

A long silence falls between them as they cuddle in each other's arms, just watching the sun come up. Basking in each other’s presence, taking in the warmth of their bodies pressed together in this nice early morning, and relishing in the calm which was far and few in between with their double lives and they were thankful. There’s no need to exchange words now as a quiet understanding befalls them both.

It’s only after the sun seems to peak at the crest of the hillsides does Waker make himself heard again.

“Is that why you dropped me?” And Cyrus blinks for a quick second, processing the question before understanding and then playfulness cross his expression.

“No it’s because you’re a dunce.” He huffs. “And fucking heavy as hell.”

Waker chooses to ignore that last bit. “But I’m your dunce.” He boops his nose.

“Damn, straight you are.” And Cyrus retaliates with a kiss on his.

Boyfriend or just “friend who I like to kiss and hold hands with sometimes”, Waker loves him and Cyrus doesn’t doubt that for a second.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Eye of the Storm 15

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, fingering, oral, squirting.

This is dark!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a new servant at the palace of Asgard but the job isn’t so easy as you thought.

Note: It’s a Loki chapter and I think we’re all ready for some tricks.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

It was your first night alone. You didn’t sleep in the bed. It felt eerie just to be in the king’s chambers on your own. So you curled up on the sofa, a window open to let in the cool breeze, and you floated in an uneasy and shallow slumber.

You woke with a start, your hand shot to your thigh. You swore someone had been touching you. Just there. But your skirts were in place, tangled around your legs, and the blankets were woven around you. You sat up and looked around at the empty chamber.

You rose and drank some water before you searched through the silk and satins Thor named as yours. Each was a varying shade of red. You washed yourself from the basin in the bath chamber and pulled on the absently selected dress. 

You were restless. Anxious for the unspoken promise Loki had given you. Perhaps Thor would return but what solace was that when you already knew what he would do. Same as his brother intended, undoubtedly. 

You recognized the servant who brought your morning meal. She didn’t acknowledge you as she set the tray down. She stopped to feel the velvet drapes before she left. You sat and nibbled the toast without a stomach for anything else. You covered up the plate and went to the window.

A sudden epiphany came upon you. You knew you were being watched. The king was not so foolish as to leave you unguarded but if you stayed within the bounds of your confinement, how could you be remiss. So, you slipped into your sandals and stepped out into the corridor. Waiting, just at the end of the hall was a man in armour; your appointed guardian.

He followed as you strode past him. You led him down the stairs and out into the courtyard. You could smell the lavender that grew beneath the queen’s chambers, that wafted up to the very top floors. You sat on a bench as the guard remained in the archway. You watched the butterflies around the bright flowers and birds in the bath. You smiled at the rare moment of serenity.

“Pardon me,” The voice cut through your bliss and your face fell. 

You looked up as Loki waved away the guard. You watched him near and sit beside you on the bench. His black hair was combed precisely and the straight shoulders of his jacket broadened his stature. His hand rested on the stone between you.

“He’s my man, not Thor’s,” He nodded to the now vacant archway. “But I let my brother believe otherwise.”

“Others watch. Those who have no loyalty to you.” You kept your eyes on the red-winged bird pecking at the grass. 

“And they will report me… conversing with you. And what shall they surmise from this scene?” He pondered. “That I did come to bid you back to the royal chambers. To make certain you did not try anything foolish in my brother’s absence. And how could anyone prove otherwise?”

“I would think him angered if you should speak with me at all. We have both seen his manner.” You rubbed your skirt between your fingers. “And who will face his wrath but me? I have no familial blood to protect me. I have nothing and yet I have been dragged lower than even the dirt I was born into.”

“Concubines are honoured under the legacy act. A vessel for a rightful prince.” He offered.

“A whore and the mother of bastards,” You countered. “I know what I am. I know my use.” You turned to look at him. “And, your highness, I know your tricks.” You stood and smoothed your skirts. “And I know I cannot stop them, so let’s not play at niceties. I haven’t the heart for it.”

You left him as he was. You passed through the archway and the guard appeared shortly after to escort you back to the royal chambers. You sat and stared at the portrait of Thor. You felt as if he could see you through the paint. Could he know what his brother was up to?

🌩️

You waited. And waited. And waited.

Loki did not come. Not before or after lunch. Or dinner. And so you took your place on the sofa and tossed and turned until you drifted into another unsettled sleep. In your new life, there was no true rest.

You didn’t slumber long. You were roused by a flash of green on the other side of your eyelids. You blinked away the phantom in your vision and pushed yourself up as you found a shadow standing in the room. The lamps brightened upon their own volition and limned the figure of the prince as he watched you.

“My work did keep me late,” He smirked. “While I am attuned to doing my brother’s work for him, his absence does enmesh me entirely.”

You watched him, almost stunned from your sudden awakening. You drew your legs up and the blanket fell away as you hugged your knees.

“A whole bed to yourself and you would sleep here?” He neared and reached to tickle your cheek. “You continue to… endear me to you, darling.”

“You know he will hurt me if he discovers you were here,” You turned to drop your legs over the edge. “I suppose you don’t care.”

“How should he discover that? I certainly won’t tell him,” He sat and spread his arm over the back of the sofa. “Will you?”

You looked at your hands, turned them over to trace the lines of your palms with your eyes. You shook your head.

“He is...has always been a brute,” Loki shifted closer. “I can see how he has been so with you. In your demeanour, in your step…” He slipped his arm down over your shoulders. “Was I ever so rough with you? Ever demanding?”

You kept your eyes down. He stroked your chin as he angled himself towards you.

“Answer me, my dear,” His long nose touched your temple. “I do like to hear that sweet voice.”

“Not in the same way,” You quavered. “No.”

“I remember how you trembled. How you moaned for me,” His hand slipped down your neck and his fingertips brushed your bodice. “I know you do too.”

A sudden glimpse flashed in your mind. Him holding you against him in the forest, his hand between your legs. Just as suddenly, you were returned to the king’s chambers as his hand now nudged your legs apart. You looked down and the satin disappeared in an instant. You were naked to Loki’s touch.

His fingers dipped lower as he pressed himself against you. You peeked over at him and found him just as bare. His pale skin flickered in the lamp light and his taut muscles rippled with every move. He snaked his hand around your legs and pulled them up as he laid out across the couch. He drew you close to him as he eased you down onto the cushion.

“L--Your highness,” You gasped.

“Say it,” He whispered. “Say my name, darling.”

You pressed your lips together as his hand crawled along your leg once more. You shook as he pushed two fingers along your folds.

“Loki,” You breathed.

“Oh, yes, darling, I love to hear it like that,” He flicked his finger across your clit and you twitched. “Again.”

“Loki…” You grabbed his upper arm as his finger sent another spark along your spine. “Please…”

“More?” He pressed another finger to your bud and twirled.

“N-n-n-” You stuttered. “Loki.”

You gripped his arm as you pushed your head back into the couch. He nuzzled your neck as he swirled his fingers faster.

“Isn’t this so much better?” He purred. “Mmm, darling, you are so delightful.”

You mewled as his fingers slid lower and he replaced them with his thumb. He poked his index inside you then added his middle finger. Your walls welcomed him as he curled his fingers. His lips grazed your throat, little kisses as he began to rock his hand. A sudden wave of warmth began to radiate from his touch.

“Listen to you.” He snarled against your flesh.

Your thighs squeezed his hand and your breath picked up. You arched your back into him and the pressure built in your core. A sensation bloomed within you unlike any you’d felt before. His hand sped up and you felt your arousal as it slicked his hand and dripped out along your cunt. 

Your hand trailed up to his head and your fingers knotted in his hair. The coil wound tighter, tighter, tighter. You gritted your teeth as you tried to resist the swell of pleasure as it mounted higher than ever before. You cried out in shock at the suddenness of your release, at the flood of pleasure that spilled out around his fingers and onto the couch.

He drew his fingers from inside you and roughly rubbed your clit as you spasmed. Your orgasm gushed onto the sofa and a sweet smell filled the air. You struggled to catch your breath as the waves finally stopped crashing over you, your legs twitching as Loki slowed his fingers.

“Loki,” You uttered as he lifted his head, his hand lingered on your thigh.

“What a mess you are,” He grinned. “I’ve hardly even begun.”

He put his wet fingers to his lips and sucked them. He pulled his hand from his mouth and dragged it over your stomach. He gripped your hip and guided you onto your side. You faced him on the narrow sofa and he hooked your leg over him. He felt around between your legs as his cock prodded along your cunt. 

He slid himself between his fingers as he spread your lips. You groaned as he entered you, stretching you around him. He eased himself to his limit and you slung your arm around his neck.

“Oh, darling, you are rather… pliable,” He growled as he began to rock against you. “And…” He hissed between his teeth. “Tight. Deliciously so.”

You writhed against him, desperate for more. Not thinking, only feeling. That indescribable tickle turned to a tugging and you clung to him tighter. You moved with him, forcing him deeper and deeper. Your hips bucked as you came and you threw your head, your body almost hanging off the couch. He snarled and nipped at your neck.

He rolled you beneath him suddenly, lifting himself over you. He grabbed your chin and forced your head straight as he crashed his mouth against yours. His tongue prodded between your lips and he forced his way inside. He devoured you as his motion picked up. 

He groaned into your mouth and lifted his head suddenly as his arm came up beneath yours. His deliberate pace turned to an impatient pounding. The couch shook as he lost all control and you ached around him; from pain, from pleasure. He pushed himself up and watched himself as he rutted into you, biting his lip at the sight.

“Gods, darling,” He growled. “Darling….” 

His breath caught in his throat and he tensed. His lips curled and his motion turned erratic, desperate. He jerked into you several times and stilled completely as he came. He emptied himself in you and hung his head, his dark hair dangling in sweaty waves.

“Say it again,” He tilted his hips until you keened. “Say my name.”

“Loki,” You wiped your damp forehead with a trembling hand. “Loki.”

🌩️

You awoke in the king’s bed. You didn’t recall how you’d got there. You could barely think at the tickle between your legs. At the nibbles along your thighs and the cool tongue that parted your folds. You looked down, the blankets tented over the figure beneath.

You shuddered as Loki’s fingers followed his mouth and lingered on your thigh. He kneaded the flesh there and stroked the crease between your leg and pelvis. He lapped noisily and you moaned as your legs bent on either side of him. His hands snaked around your legs and he hugged himself closer, his face buried there. 

You panted as you clawed at the blankets. You could barely handle it for the remnants of the night before. You were overworked and oversensitive. He suckled on your clit and your thighs pressed against his hand. You whined and his tongue flicked around your bud.

You came in a torrent of ecstasy and he kept you from writhing as he flurried your nerves to a storm. He parted and you quivered as he crawled up from beneath the blankets. The fabric brushed against your cunt as he fell down beside you. 

He laid on his stomach as he pulled the blanket away from your chest and traced your nipples with his fingernail. He bent to take one in his mouth and then the next, his eyes watching you as he did.

As he drew away, his hand crept up and down your stomach and he nestled against your side. You could feel his hard cock against you.

“Good morning, darling,” He slithered. “You just looked so precious, I couldn’t resist.”

You let out a long breath as his hand inched toward your pelvis. Your lashes fluttered and he played with the tuft of hair. He leaned in and his lips brushed your ear as he spoke.

“I need you around me again,” He wiggled his hips. “It’s unbearable.”

He got to his knees and the blanket fell away to bear his throbbing member. He pulled on your arm until you rose and he turned you around. He grabbed your shoulders and pushed you to rest on your elbows, your ass in the air. His hands ran along your back and he gripped your hips, rubbing his cock against your ass.

“Gods, you’re delectable.” 

He cupped your ass and spread it. He growled and pushed his cock between your cheeks. He drew his hand away and guided his tip down to your entrance. He poked inside and held himself there as he let out a hum. He impaled you all at once, jerking your body so that you nearly crashed into the headboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He kept himself at his limit. “You don’t even know how good you are.”

He took a breath and startled you as he began to fuck you. Hard. He hammered your walls as you put a hand out to keep yourself from hitting the headboard. You gripped the top of it as you kept your other elbow planted and the bed tremored beneath you.

He grunted as his flesh clapped against yours. The noise echoed around the chamber and you could hear how wet your were. You wheezed as another climax washed over you and your legs quaked, threatening to collapse as he forced you back against him, over and over.

He exclaimed as he came. He didn’t stop as he poured into you but when he did, he sank down over you until you were flat on your stomach. He rested atop you, his cock twitching inside you still, and his hot breath seeped into your scalp. 

He slowly caught his breath and pulled out of you. His seed leaked out of you as you rolled over. He stood and stretched shamelessly. He lumbered towards the bath chamber and disappeared through the door without a word.

You sat up, carefully as your sticky thighs brushed together and made you wince. You stood and waddled across the room, peering back at the bath chamber to listen. You carried on to the receiving chamber, your veins still buzzing and boiling.

You went to the mantle and took the pot from behind the statue of the mighty oak. Your heart dropped, it was rather light. You took the lid off and found it empty. You snapped the lid back on and put it back. You searched through the ornaments but did not find the pouch. You rushed to the sofa and pulled the cushions off. You hadn’t moved it, you would’ve remembered.

You raced into the bedchamber and stopped short as Loki stood by the four poster with a wry smirk.

“What ever is the matter, darling?” He tilted his head.

Your lips opened then closed. You frowned.

“I…” You glanced around. “The… the powder. It is gone.”

“A pity,” He remarked. “But not to worry.”

“Not to worry? I could-- you--”

“It has fulfilled its purpose. It’s kept you from carrying my brother’s bastard.” He smirked. 

“You--” You recoiled. “You’re not serious. Loki--”

“Your highness,” He corrected.

“Your highness, you must return it. It is not a very funny trick you’ve pulled.” You pouted.

“Trick? The only trick here is you thinking you can order me around,” He sneered. “It is, my dear, rather the reverse.”

“Please, I can’t-- I don’t want--”

“Get on the bed,” He demanded. “Just as you were before. I do like to watch your ass when I fuck you.”

[wickedapollo]

This is going to become a Saint-14 blog you watch. Everything is going to be become Saint. Everything. Oh my God, I love that man. I can't. I can't even.

Anyways, this is a Dawning gift for my friends [@lady-efriyeet @galexion @nyllius ]! It may come out before then, I have no idea currently, as I write this. I am very motivated for this one, unlike my promised Shiro oneshot... Oops. I'll get to that one in due time I swear.

Saint-14 x Hunter! Reader

Warnings : angst and [reads smudged writing on hand] flurf

The wind nips at your unarmed arms, snaking up your biceps and brushing against your throat. Your fingertips are numb with the chill, you flex them but it is all for not. They aren't frozen just cold. You sigh, closing your eyes and hanging your head.

You can't remember the last time you had a day off, it seems all you do is move about the system, killing things, saving people, and then you move on. Move on as though a leaf upon the wind who's only motive is to please such that hurries you. It is a sad existence, you think to yourself, that I am only something used to fight the battles that everyday people cannot. The mere idea that you are useless makes your heart sink in your chest. Perhaps if it sinks lower it may fall through you and hit the floor, shattering with all your prizes, all you hold dear.

Your eyes wander back to the silent bazaar. It is, after all, only two A.M. and most sane people are asleep. Your thoughts and insomnia keep you awake, brushing at the fingertips of sleep while your body falls more and more awakened. You hate nights like these, when sleep is scarce and there is no one to talk to.

If only your prayers could talk back.

You wrap your arms around your ribs as you straighten to look up at the traveler. The pristine machine god offers you no solution. No end to your sleepless night. Only the same silence as it has always treated you.

"Голубь?" It is a small, almost whisper-like voice. Scratchy and groggy from sleep. Like what you had once imagined dark chocolate would sound, not that you had imagined voices for the food you ate, that was preposterous, but it was a way to describe it. "What are you doing awake?"

"I can't sleep." You murmur, more to yourself than to him. You watch him rise groggily onto his metal forearms and squint into the darkness of your bedroom. His optics adjust in brightness, much like eyes adjusting to the dark. He sits there for less time than you expect before he pushes himself up and looks around slowly.

"It's twenty-five til three." He states, and for a moment he seems amazed by the time. Perhaps the fact that it is so late and you are still up? Who knows. He pulls the blankets off of his lap to stand, boards creaking under his feet as he does so. He easily towers over you, optics blinking as he adjusts to the lighting.

You can’t help but shrink further into the linen curtains. You know Saint means well, he always does, you don’t feel like being berated for not sleeping. Not that Saint would do that, but you know he’s going to ask questions. It’s his way of looking after you, you know. You appreciate it sometimes.

However, he doesn’t, instead he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. You would expect, like most metal things, Saint would be cold to the touch. He never is, and no matter how many times you’ve touched him, you are always surprised at how warm he really is. You hope all exos are this way, though you could never truly be sure, and are too afraid to test your new theory.

“Perhaps I can help?” He offers, in the soft tone that only he can have. It reverberates throughout his chest as his hands gently smooth over your back. Truthfully they don’t have to go far, Saint’s hands are huge. You barely have enough room for one, let alone both of them. You don’t complain though, only pressing your face into his chest with a nod.

You’re moving before you can truly process it. Being pulled towards the bed with little protest, in no hurry to leave your titan’s embrace. He seems in even less a hurry to let you go. Though that is Saint, always has been, always doting and encouraging.

Strong hands lift you up, and though he doesn't say it, what he wants is as clear to you as the night sky. You sluggishly wrap your legs around his waist and wrap your arms around his neck. He moves his hands under your thighs and sets his chin on your shoulder as he walks. There's something soothing about it, perhaps it is why babies are rocked to sleep.

His warmth is intoxicating, like sitting by an open fire and reading. Like being curled in a fuzzy blanket while the wind and rain howl outside the window, something so natural and peaceful that it may have lulled you to sleep right there- If you were not so keen on staying awake to avoid the nightmares. Though your eyes droop and your limbs are heavy, you force yourself to stay awake.

If you wait long enough, Saint will let you load up on caffeine and give you disappointing looks. You could handle that, you hope. It's just that you are so tired, it's almost criminal. It's to the point you feel like crying- for no reason- at anything.

Soon enough your ambition falters, you close your eyes. They were just so heavy, you argue to yourself, not even Atlas could have held them open.

Soon your arms relax around Saint, hands falling limply from his shoulders to hang lifelessly. Your fingers rest against the warm metal of his arms, twitching as he moves. It's only then you notice, somehow, he's humming.

You try to count his tune, as a last resort of staying awake. You lose it at six, arguing over what number you had missed to not get an eight count- and you pass out then and there. Slipping into the dark, like a warm blanket.

Saint, in all honesty, isn’t ready to put you down. He’s afraid you’ll wake up if he stops moving, it’s happened before. Though that was about a year ago, and he had unceremoniously tossed you on the bed, thinking nothing of the fact that you were human and very, very fragile.

He sighs, looking over at the clock on the bedside table. You really didn't use it, never had need for an alarm, that's what you had your Ghost for. But he used it periodically, like now, seeing that it read three a.m even. The titan finally lays you down, pulling the covers over your chilled body and up to your chin. When he's satisfied he kisses your forehead, metal lips lingering along your warm brow. You could be coming down with a cold, he thinks, one more thing to worry about…

You resituate to hug a pillow close to your chest, burying your face into it's softness. It makes Saint smile. You may be Saladin's Young Wolf, who fights with honor and Valor. A god killer. However, you are also his. His guardian, his love, and his inspiration. And he is soft for you.

The large titan moves to the window, glancing out into the empty street with contempt. There is a light on across the street, with shadows moving to and from in front of the window. He smiles, someone's wrapping presents for the Dawning still. He watches them move back and forth until the light goes out.

He leans back into the apartment and shuts the open window without question. It's late, he should sleep, too. He draws the curtains and pads back to his side of the bed. You've already stolen most of the blankets, but he can't find it in him to take them from you.

Instead he lays there, quiet as he listens to you breathe and snore softly. What a beautiful way to spend tonight, he thinks, when the room is warm.

However, now it is his turn not to find sleep. He tosses and turns for nearly twenty minutes. He sighs tiredly at the white ceiling. Perhaps if he counts the popcorn bits he can sleep. So he starts, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…

No dice.

An arm snakes around his waist sleepily and you pull him close. You're nowhere near fully conscious, just awake enough to be a sleepy, cuddly mess. He turns his head to look at you in surprise as you nestle into his side and nose along his jugular vein, or coolant tube… either way.

"Did I wake you, Love?"

"Mmm?" You reply, eyes falling closed as you wrap a leg around his thigh. You still as you have found comfort in the position. Saint can't hide his smile, accepting the exchange and wrapping his arms around you. You're warm, and rightfully so, you're swaddled in blankets like a fluff tortilla.

His fingers sneak into your fluffy, messy hair. Carding through it and watching it fall back into place again and again. He lets out sigh, sounding more like a purr than an actual breath. His optics dim in the lighting, and he yawns.

"Sleep tight, Моя любовь."

[skiller0dani]

Briefly Lovers | Timothee Chalamet

M A S T E R L I S T

smut | vampire au part 1 requested requests info wanna be on my Timmy taglist? click here sorry if it takes me a hot second to write your request, I’m kinda being flooded with them rn xx thanks for all the love and support guys!

It was harder than he was expecting, almost ten times harder than the last time he’d had to do this. Timothee had settled into his new life easily enough, it was always easy for him to assimilate, he’d sure done it enough times. This time he’d picked a house on the countryside of a small city he’d forgotten the name of. It reminded him of his own childhood home, though he could barely remember anymore. Those memories were locked somewhere deep in his mind, stored away in a lifetime from over 250 years ago. He was no longer that carefree child, throwing seed to the chickens. It doesn’t feel like him anymore, now he spent every waking hour resisting his blood lust and now trying to push you from his mind. His chest constricted just at the mere thought of you, and his heart seized if he heard your name fall off a strangers lips. Why did you have to have a name so commonly used? He heard it everywhere. On mens lips that didn’t deserve to say it. You awakened something from deep within his heart he had not yet mustered up the courage to face. It was raw, it was wild, it was passion, it was so painfully human. Something he had not been for longer than he could remember. 

He thought about returning to the man he used to be, to the prowling monster clinging to the darkness that loomed as the sun set. There certainly wasn’t a compelling reason to try to reclaim the man he used to be. Timothee never asked for this, he never asked to be turned. He would have rather been left to die in that hospital bed. Timothee knew she thought she was helping him, but dear Susanna was subjecting him to a lifetime of loneliness. All of that melted away when he was in your embrace, and he hated that he could still feel your nails dragging down his back. Your lips against his neck, your arms around him, the warmth you helped blossom in his chest. This sort of emotion was dangerous, it means that Timothee could start to care. The more he cared, the more he lost. Better to have nothing to lose, leaving your enemies with nothing to take away. So Timothee stayed holed up in his new home, far from other people. Far from you. 

If Timothee thought you’d let him go without a fight then he was sorely mistaken. While it was true that you didn’t know exactly how to find him, you were certain you could find a way to bring him to you. Now the plan you were beginning to concoct in your head was 7 flavors of crazy, but you’d fallen in love with a vampire. A vampire. You thought crazy was exactly you needed right now. If keeping you safe is what drove him away, then keeping you safe would also bring him back to you. Right? You chose not to question yourself or talk yourself out of what you were about to do. You couldn’t go another second without him, every time you close your eyes you see him. His messy chocolate curls that he managed to tame, those eyes that shined like emeralds, his smooth voice he could use to coax you to orgasm. A shudder ran down your spin upon remembering that wild night you shared, no barriers between your bodies. No hesitation, no sadness, just you and him. Your body craved for that again, and what scared you more was that your heart craved it too. 

This was crazy, it was beyond crazy. Mainly because of the fact that since Timothee up and left, your Dad has been borderline unhinged in his desperate search for him. He hadn’t even attempted to hide the truth of the situation from you or your sister, practically saying it plain. You had no idea how he was going to react to what you were about to say as you descended the stairs. All you knew was that you needed to draw Timothee out, you needed him. When you rounded the corner into the kitchen you saw your Dad where he usually was. Hunched over the counter, with maps and books sprawled out in front of him. “Still looking for the runaway neighbor?” You ask as you move to stand next to him. He groaned, his eyes looking tired but his expression tight and he could do nothing more but nod curtly. You nibbled on your lower lip, the anxiety in your gut beginning to take over as your blood practically curdled in your veins at the level your anxiety had risen to. You straightened your back and reached for the sleeve of your shirt, you’d been practicing this for quite sometime. You wanted it to look perfect, and more than that you wanted it to look convincing. 

“Dad I have something to tell you.” You began, effectively drawing his attention as you rolled up your sleeve. You had sculpted a convincing enough bite on your forearm, using the powers of horror movie makeup and a bottle of fake blood. Your Dad immediately grabbed your arm and yanked it over towards him, a rekindled flame of rage in his eyes. “Was it him?” He asks and your body trembles from the sheer intensity of his voice. You nod, your palms beginning to shake- this might not have been a very good idea. “He bit you?” Your Dad asks for further clarification, and by now it was unspoken between the two of you that you were aware of vampires. And that you were also aware that your neighbor is one. “Yes he bit me, he said he wanted me to be his forever...” You lied, turning your eyes to the tiles of your kitchen floor. Your Dad releases you before turning to a kitchen drawer, yanking it open and searching for something inside it. When he turns around, he’s jamming a needle into your neck. 

“Sorry sweetheart but when the blood lust takes over I won’t be able to trust you. Don’t worry- I’ll fix this.” He whispers as the world around you begins to blur. You reach out to grab him, but your movements are sluggish. His arms wrap around you to prevent you from falling as blackness spots at the corners of your eyes. He holds you to his chest when your body has slumped fully against him, and he lifts you into his arms before swiftly carrying you out to his van. He knew leaving the monster across the street unattended to would bite him in the ass, and it did. Except it bit his daughter, in the goddamn arm. Thankfully, as long as you haven’t drank human blood- there was still a way to fix this. The bite on your  arm looked pretty fresh, and your eyes hadn’t turned quite yet so he knows you haven’t had your first drink yet. As long as he can get a hold of Timothee, this can still be fixed. He just needs the blood of the vampire who bit you, and then this will all be over. If he couldn’t cure you, then he’ll do what needs to be done. By then, you won’t be his daughter anymore. Just another monster walking the Earth wearing his daughters face. 

The contacts your Dad knew spread their ivy vines, probing for information regarding the young handsome vampire who’d bitten his daughter. The drive to the warehouse just outside town was a longer drive then he’d anticipated but you couldn’t be around people. He should have driven a stake through Timothee’s chest when he first had the chance, it’s time to end this once and for all. Why did you never listen to him? He told you to stay away from Timothee and you disobeyed him, and now this is the position you’re in. His eyes flashed to you through the rear view mirror. Your arms are strapped to the wall of the van, and your ankles are held to the floor. Your head is slumped low and he can only hope you won’t wake before you arrive. When you arrived at the warehouse, you were still- thankfully, asleep. Your Dad lifted you into his arms and brought you to the warehouse, strapping you up inside it and placing a leather strap over your mouth. “We found him.” A man says approaching your Dad’s right side. Your Dad pulls out a Polaroid camera and snaps a photo of you, handing it to the man. “Give him this, and the address.” He instructs and the other man nods before taking the photo and heading for the exit of the warehouse.

Timothee sat near his fireplace, his stubborn mind once again drifting to you. For the first few weeks his thoughts were purely animalistic, thinking of bending you over the back of his couch. Or on your knees in front of him, dick in your mouth and tears down your cheeks. But now, he thinks of nothing but your smile, how radiant and full of life it is. He thinks of the way you say his name, so soft, so intense, it runs shivers down his back. He thinks of your fingertips trailing down his arms, holding him so tenderly that you almost convinced him that he deserves a happiness like that. Timothee understands a truth that you do not, he understands that monsters like him don’t deserve happiness like that. He didn’t want to sully your pure heart with the darkness looming in his soul. He leans back in his chair, beginning to be consumed by his thoughts when a pounding on his door draws his attention. Timothee is on his feet, slowly making his way towards his front door but when he swings it open there’s no one standing there. Out of the corner of his eye, something nailed to his door catches his attention. When he pulls the photo free, his entire world stops. It’s you, tied up and gagged but it’s what’s on your arm that constricts his heart the most. You were bit. At the bottom of the photo is an address written in sharpie, and he’s out the door. 

Your vision is bleary as you slowly open your eyes, flood lights pointed straight at you. The lights blind you, hurting your eyes as you struggle to adjust to it. Behind the lights you see a figure sitting in a chair and when you feel the leather binds holding you to the wall, and the one placed around your mouth you know you made a mistake. Your vision clear enough to see your Dad sitting and observing you carefully, a dangerously detached look in his eyes. “Soon this whole mess will be behind us sweetheart. Timothee is on his way, and as soon as he arrives I’m going to drive a stake through his heart and drain his body of every drop of blood in his veins.” He says smoothly and tears build in your eyes as panic rises in your chest. You begin to cry out against the leather strap, tears in your eyes as your desperate words come out muffled. You pull and yank your limbs against the restraints, your desperate cries ripping through your throat. Your Dad nods to someone to his left and soon the leather strap is removed from your mouth. You gasp for breath as you continue struggling against the straps. “Dad, please don’t hurt him! You don’t have to hurt him!” You beg, tears staining your cheeks. 

“I know he’s infected your heart, you think you care for him but it’s not real Y/N. He’s bitten you, all you feel is loyalty because his blood runs through your veins.” Your Dad explains in an even voice and you pull harder, the straps cutting into your wrists. “I love him! I’ve loved him since the first second I saw him. Please don’t hurt him please!” You plead, your eyes begging him as he stands and takes a few careful steps towards you. Your Dad kneels in front of you and brushes tears off your cheeks, “I’ll never see him again I promise. I’ll do whatever you ask but please don’t hurt him.” You cry, your voice hoarse as you look up at your Dad. He smiles, but the emotion doesn’t reach his eyes as he looks down at you. “This is not love, this is infatuation. Forced blood loyalty. That’s all it is, and once he’s dead you will be cured of the weakness in your heart.” He says softly, pressing a kiss to your head before securing the strap around your mouth again. You scream and try to bite at the leather strap as he turns and walks away. A flash of lights flood the room and a smile slides onto your Dad’s face as he reaches for a wooden stake. “He’s here.” Another man says and your panic sky rockets. You sob, pulling as hard as you can even though you know you’re breaking skin. 

Everything moves in slow motion as the door to the warehouse open and you’re trying to cry warnings to him through your muffled gag. When Timothee walks in, his eyes are on you before you see a stake driving through the middle of his chest. You scream, your eyes locked on him as you slump against your restrains- sobbing. Blood runs down the stake and wets his shirt as he looks at your father, and you can see the life leaving his eyes. Your Dad walks over to him, grabbing him by the neck before cutting his neck open and draining his blood into a bucket. You feel hollow as your eyes stay fixed on the cement floors of the warehouse, and you just feel numb. You close your eyes to will the tears to stop but they just keep coming. This isn’t real, this isn’t happening. Your Dad didn’t just kill Timothee right in front of you because you pretended to be bit. Oh God this whole thing is your fault, and you choke through your sobs. Suddenly you feel your arm and leg restrains being torn and when you look over, your heart stops. 

Timothee is crouched beside you, his eyes glancing towards your Father and the other men surrounding what you thought was him. When he pulls your mouth restraint off his palm is over your mouth, “shh.” He says and helps you silently stand. Your eyes stay trained on him, tears steadily flowing down your cheeks as you follow him through the building. You stay in the shadows, following his every step as his hand stays securely wrapped around yours. His eyes flicker to the bite on your arm and his heart breaks in his chest, he didn’t want this life for you. Your other hand holds his arm, still not fully believing that this is real, that he’s stood in front of you. Eventually you make it to a side door and slip out into the night where you can breathe as you take a step away from him. “I- I just watched my Dad kill you, how are you..?” Your voice trails off, your heart hammering against your chest as you reach for him. Your hands smooth down his chest and his arms are around your waist. “It’s called astral projection. Something Vampires can do. Not very often, but it’s a useful distraction.” He says, his voice hurried as he grabs your arm- observing the bite. 

“Who was it? Baby who bit you?” Timothee asks, his hands cradling your face as he looks into your eyes. There is panic in his eyes, and an immeasurable amount of fear behind them as he studies your face. “Nobody Tim-” You start but he shakes his head as his hands gently wipe away the drying tears. “I will find whoever did this and I will kill them. Have you drank from anybody yet? I promise baby, I’ll fix this.” He stammers, holding you tightly. You reach your hand towards your arm and begin lifting the makeup, effectively pulling the ‘bite’ off your arm. Timothee falters, his eyes studying your arm- no bite anywhere to be seen. “It’s make up Timothee. I just- I needed to see you badly and I didn’t know how else to draw you out...” You trail off and he releases you, taking a few steps away from you. There is an unreadable expression on his face as he looks at you, “are you insane? You could have gotten yourself killed! Jesus you could have gotten yourself killed Y/N.” Timothee gasps, running a hand through his curls. Your throat closes in embarrassment as you avoid his gaze. “What the hell were you thinking? Have you ever considered that maybe it’s better for you, if I’m not around? Look at what’s happened to your life since you met me!” Timothee says, his voice strained as he watches you. 

“I don’t care! I love you.” You exclaim, catching both him and you by surprise. Tears are pushing at the corners of your eyes again as you look up to meet his gaze. “I love you Timothee, I don’t care about how dangerous it is I just want to be with you. Please take me with you,” You plead as you take a slow step towards him. He looks up at you, his hands coming up to gently cradle your face again as he presses his forehead to yours. “You’d choose a life on the run, a life like this...for me?” Timothee asks as your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders. You nod immediately, “yes. I want to be with you.” You whisper, your hands holding him tightly. Timothee pressed his lips against yours, salty tears mixing in as tears rush down both of your cheeks. “I love you, are you sure this is what you want?” Timothee asks, his eyes searching yours as he looks at you. You smile as your fingers tangle in his hair, “I want this- I want you.” You breathe and his hand wraps around yours before pulling you away from the warehouse. 

When you arrive at his house, your back is immediately pressed against the wall as soon as the door closes. He grinds his hardening cock against you and you gasp. “Baby, if we do this there’s one condition.” He whispers in your ear, and you nod desperately wanting him to just keep kissing and touching you. “I’ll let you come with me, but I will never bite you. Ever.” Timothee says, his voice tight as he looks down at you. Your heart drops, the thought of spending forever with him is far too tempting to pass up. If he won’t bite you, you’ll just have to find another Vampire who will. “Fine.” You huff, your lips moving to find his again. Timothee hums, satisfied by your answer as his lips press to yours again. Your mouths move together, languid and slow as his hands reach up to pull your lips for firmly against his. You grind your hips against him, needing to soothe the throbbing between your legs. Timothee takes the hint and slides his hand down your front, under your jeans. His fingers find your slick lips and he smiles against you, “soaked already baby? You’re so ready for me aren’t you?” He asks, his voice low and you nod frantically. His fingers gently toy with your clit, moving too slowly for your liking as he lazily rolls circles over your bundle of nerves. Your hips roll with his movements as you whine against his lips. 

“Please Timmy, more.” You plead and you hear him groan under his breath as he takes his hand from your jeans. Before you can protest he’s lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist as his hands hold you up by your ass. Timothee walks you through the house before gently laying you back against his bed. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you baby,” Timothee whispers as his fingers hook into the waistband of your jeans. He pulls your jeans down your legs, “couldn’t stop thinking about your perfect little pussy.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. Timothee slides his hands up your bare legs, another groan escaping his mouth when he sees the black thong you’re wearing. “Couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to be inside you, so warm and so goddamn wet.” He breathes, his voice husky as his pupils dilate as he looks at you. Timothee continues pressing kisses up your thigh, pressing one light kiss to your clit over the fabric of your thong before moving to kiss down your other leg. “Fuck,” You whine, your hips beginning to wriggle as the heat builds in your stomach. “But mostly, I couldn’t stop thinking about your smile, your laugh. Your beautiful eyes, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how fucking much I missed you.” Timothee admits, his eyes looking vulnerable as he looks up at you. 

Finally his fingers pull your thong down and he groans loudly seeing your pussy glistening for him. “God, I missed you so much baby.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. He presses his tongue into you then, his fingers rubbing at your clit. Your back arches off the bed as a strangled moan falls from your lips. “Fuck baby,” You moan loudly, your fingers winding into his hair to pull him against you more firmly. Timothee continues to push his tongue into you, moaning softly at your taste. Your cries come out more strangled as he continues to wind that coil tighter in your stomach. His cock is pressed against his pants so hard it’s beginning to hurt. No matter how much he jerked himself off, he could never cum. Only you can make him cum. He replaces his fingers with his mouth over your clit as he slides 2 fingers into you. Timothee changes the frantic desperate pace he just had for a much slower one. He very gently and sensually pushes his fingers into you and draws them out slowly, causing you to whine as the pressure in your pelvis builds. “Please don’t stop, please please,” You plead, your voice almost coming out as a cry. Timothee doesn’t stop, he keeps his slow languid pace as he gently builds you up until you’re squeezing around his fingers. You cry out as you throw your head to the side, feeling your cum gush around his fingers. 

Your heart races and your eyes are closed when you feel Timothee slide up your body, his nose brushing against yours. You open your eyes and your arms wrap around his shoulders, “please baby. Make love to me.” You whisper against his lips and you feel him smile. His hands reach down to push his pants down his legs and off his ankles before he’s lining himself up at your entrance. You spread your thighs wider for him as he presses the head of his cock into you. Your face buries in his neck as Timothee gently slides into you, the warmth and tightness of your pussy overwhelming him as he releases a shaky breath. One of his hands cups your cheek and the other slides under your back as he slowly pulls out of you so that only the tip was inside you before pushing back in. The pace was slow, long deep strokes that reached places inside you that you didn’t know existed. Your legs open further for him as he continues so slowly thrust into you, and you feel the heat spreading through your veins like fire. “I love you.” You whisper into his neck and you feel goosebumps spread over his skin as a shiver runs down his back. “Say it again baby,” Timothee groans, his pace increasing a little as your orgasms approach. You look into his eyes, “I love you Timothee,” You say again and he drops his head to your chest- taking a nipple in his mouth. In an instant that coil snaps and you cry out, squeezing around him and effectively sending him over the edge. He cums into you as you cum around his cock. 

Both of your hearts are racing as he pulls out of you and lays beside you. Your breaths are heaving as he reaches over and pulls you into his chest. “I love you too baby.” Timothee says, his eyes closed as he squeezes you against him. You nuzzle against him, peppering soft kisses across his chest. “You’re not gonna leave again are you?” You ask as your eyes begin to droop and he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Baby I promise I’ll still be right here when you wake up.” He promises and you relax completely against him, all anxiety leaving your body. You feel sleep beginning to take you as you cuddle into his side more. “I know you don’t want me to be turned, but I want to spend forever with you.” You breathe into the silence and you feel his body tense. Fear courses through him as he presses another soft kiss into your hair, “sleep my love. We can talk about this in the morning.” He says and you nod, finally letting sleep take you. 

***taglist*** @sflowervol6​ @90sthemedsunsets​ @newletas​

[littlemoonchildbear]

I’m Losing Him – Hvitserk X OC

Author’s note: If you find something Grammarly wrong or have any advice to help me improve my writing just tell me and I’ll do my best to make it better. I would be really happy if you leave a comment saying what you think is good and/or what I could change, cause I’m not very confident with this work. If someone likes it I intend to cointinue this work and make more 1 or 2 parts. Hope someone enjoys it. 😊

Summary: Revna has always been there for Ivar, but after he became crazy, she just tried to live her life with her lover Hvitserk and had to accept that she lost her little grumpy boy and that he now was a mad king playing God. When Ivar sends Hvitserk to make an alliance with Earl Olaf, and people in Kattegat start rebelling against him, Ivar assumes he can’t trust anyone and decide to get rid of his enemies starting with the person was one so close to him.

Words: 2194

Warnings: lightly insinuations of sex

Gif’s credits: @honestsycrets​

My name is Revna. My mother was a childhood friend of Aslaug, but I never met my father because my mom always said that he wasn’t worth our attention or love so, I’ve never wasted my time thinking about him.

My mother died in one of the raids she went with the king Ragnar and many other warriors, so Aslaug welcomed me in their home and made sure that I was treated as her own daughter. The boys could even consider me a sister.

In the war between Ivar and Lagertha, I stayed beside Ivar, my little grumpy boy, it was impossible to forgive her after killing the woman I considered my second mother in a so coward away.

Although I was on Ivar’s side and understood his anger toward Lagertha, now it looked like he forgot why he wanted her dead. It was like he forgot his mother’s death and decided to play God, and that I could never accept.

So, after Ivar became obsessed and crazy, I left him and tried to ignore his existence. After so many years, Hvitserk and I finally confessed our feelings for each other and now we were living together as husband and wife, even if we didn’t make a proper ceremony. However, Hvitserk and I didn’t care if we didn’t have one, we were finally together and it was enough.

Today he came home with a very interesting little statue of a smiley fat man. He was so excited about telling me the new things he learned with the owner of that statue that I couldn’t help but fix my eyes on his happy face and listen to his philosophical words.

“Everything is One, and only the One is. Life is a bridge, build no house upon it. It’s a river, but don’t cling to its banks. You’re on a journey.” he said with his eyes set of the smiley little man.

When he realized I was quiet he turned his head to me.

“So, this weird old man told you all that?” I asked

“And many other things I’ve already forgotten.”

I couldn’t hold the light laugh that escaped my mouth. I leaned my head on one of my hands and with the other I caressed his hair, face, and started playing with his little goatee.

“Perhaps it’s all a joke.” he said looking down “Floki would have said so.”

“Many people said he was a joke as well…yet he was one of the best and wisest men I’ve ever known.”

“Well, I don’t know about a man, but I know of a very special woman that is as much wise as him… maybe even more…” he said coming closer and closer to me

“Do I know this… so special woman that dazzles your mind?” I said trying to be seductive

“I think so. She is my wife, but much more than that she is the fiercest shieldmaiden Midgard has ever known.” he kissed my forehead “The most intelligent human being around the world.” he kissed my nose “She’s like a Goddess and I still don’t understand what she saw in a mere mortal like me…” he leaned his forehead against mine closing his eyes.

“Maybe because she doesn’t see herself like nothing more than just a woman that besides being aware of your very pretty face…” I said rubbing our noses “She knows you have a great heart… maybe the best among all the man…” I raised his head making him look in my eyes “I don’t care if you’re the king of all Norway, a farmer, a warrior, or a fisherman… I don’t care about your conquests Hvitserk, I love you for who you are, I care for what is in here.” I placed my hand on his naked chest right over his heart

He looked at my hand and then raised his head again with a smile on his mouth.

“You have no idea how good you make me feel… I love you so much…”

I just smiled even wider and turned again to the little statue before he could kiss me.

“What do you think that means?”

“What?”

“What that man told you. Do you think is a journey to where?”

He just shrugged his shoulders.

“He told me I can go talk to him again. That he would enlighten me.”

I just sighed and laid my head in my hands looking at the little Buddha before I started speaking again.

“Well… you can think about it tomorrow because for tonight I thought we could start trying for a baby…” I said like I wanted nothing

He turned his head to face me quickly.

“Are you serious?” he said disbelieved

“Of course.”

He didn’t waste any second and started kissing me, but before I could deepen it and get on top of him, he stopped and moved away from my lips. He turned the Buddha to face the wall. I couldn’t help but giggle. Couldn’t exist a more perfect man than him.

“Where were we again?”

Sorry Buddha, but no sex for you.

 The next night, Hvitserk and I were in the Great Hall. It was announced that the great God and King Ivar the Boneless had something very important to say to his people… could you feel the irony in my words? No? Well, now you know my opinion about this.

Ivar was definitely hallucinating. He wasn’t the innocent boy I knew… he clearly was so afraid of losing his throne that couldn’t trust anyone, not even his own family. And I was afraid of what he was capable of doing to make sure no one stayed on his way.

When people started shouting his and Odin’s names, I decided I had seen enough.

“Let’s get out of here.” I whispered in Hvitserk’s ear and holding his arm we left the room. I couldn’t ignore the sensation of a certain gaze burning on my nape.

   In the morning, I was awakened in a peculiar way. I felt something brushing on my calf. If it happened a little time ago, I would have just kick whoever was trying to take advantage of me and pull my dagger from under my pillow to kill them. But, considering my actual situation, I knew whose lips were those. I just waited for him to come closer. I felt him crawl above me like a snake leaving more kisses while he passed every part of my body.

When he reached my shoulder, I turned my body to face him. Before he said something, I kissed him properly.

“I still can’t determine if you are relentless for me or if you are impatient to put a child on me.” I crossed my arms behind his neck putting him even closer.

“Can’t I be both?” he said smirking

“You are so a naughty boy…” I whispered near his lips

“I’m your naughty boy…” he said coming back to kiss me

“I’m afraid…” I whispered

“Of what?” his lips didn’t leave my neck

“Ivar… I’m afraid of what he is capable to do… of what he can do to you…”

“You don’t need to worry about that. We will just get out of his way and live our life.”

“I think we should leave Kattegat… before he thinks in bloody ways of getting us out of his sight.”

“I don’t think we need to get worried now, he never saw me as a threat. Everybody has seen me as a puppy that would follow my powerful brothers. Ivar and Ubbe are the real wolves.”

“For me, you are the best of them. The best son of Ragnar and the best wolf…”

I saw a big smile grow on his face before he started kissing me slowly.

“Promise you will think about it.”

“I promise, now… let your little wolf satisfy his hunger.” he said his final words focusing on his mission of putting a child on me.

   In the middle of the night, I heard something. Something scraping on the ground. Someone was in our home and by the sounds, I could imagine who it was…

However, by any doubts, I slowly took my hand under my pillow. I realized Hvitserk was aware of what was happening too. Then, faking that he would embrace me strongly, I put the dagger on his hand under the pillow and when he felt his side of the bed go down, he acted quickly aiming the dagger on the person’s neck.

As I thought, it was Ivar.

“Sorry to startle you.” he said smiling “But, I’ve been thinking about you, my dear brother.”

He spoke as I wasn’t there.

“What have you been thinking?” said Hvitserk

“I have been thinking… that you can make yourself more useful to me. It concerns me that you have no proper role here. That you live an empty and idle life. After all, you are my brother and I love you.”

I let out a mockery laugh. He stopped smiling but didn’t turn his attention to me. It was like he believed if he ignored me, he could make me disappear.

“So how could I make myself useful?”

“You could leave Kattegat. Go on a diplomatic trip to the Great Hall of King Olaf the Stout, and cement our alliance, help him prepare for our springtime attacks on York and Wessex.”

“And if I refuse? I don’t’ want to leave Kattegat.” he said it putting his hand on my covered womb.

That was the first time in the night Ivar looked at me.

“I’m afraid you cannot refuse.” he adjusted his body on the bed “I realize you two are together after all…or is this just a remembering of your younger years?” Ivar provoked but I wouldn’t take the bait, I wouldn’t lose my control.

“We are husband and wife now, King Ivar.” I said ironic “We are building our own family.” I finalized meeting Hvitserk’s hand above my womb letting a little smile escape.

“This is good Hvitserk.” he totally ignored me “Then it would be a pity if I had to burn her alive.”

In a blink of an eye, Hvitserk was with the dagger on Ivar’s neck again ready to kill him at any second.

“You wouldn’t do that, brother…” he whispered “Now, would you?”

Ivar just chuckled and scratched his forehead.

“No. No, I wouldn’t. Not if you agree to leave Kattegat first thing in the morning. Humm?”

I saw my husband turning from confident to uncertain. But I was sure of what he had to do.

“If you allow King Ivar, I’ll have a word with my husband and you’ll have your answer as soon as the sun appears on the horizon.”

   After Ivar left, I had a long argument with Hvitserk. I knew he was worried about me, about the baby that I might be carrying… but it was better that way.

“Do you think it will work? Do you think doing what he wants will keep us safe?” he asked me

“I don’t know, but I know that making him angry is not the solution.”

Hvitserk huffed and turned his gaze to the ceiling. I knew there was another thing bothering him.

“My love” I called touching his chest “I’m just showing you my opinion and one solution… it doesn’t mean you have to do it… I’m not Ubbe…” I knew how he felt about the situation between them, how Ubbe would say something and he would just follow without having a say. I wasn’t like that, I wanted to share our thoughts and together we would find the answer “I think you should go, do as Ivar requested and when you come back, we should just move from Kattegat… maybe live in the woods like Helga and Floki…”

He stayed a few more moments quiet thinking while I did random patterns with my fingers on his chest.

“I think is a good idea…” he started “But, I don’t want to leave the people of Kattegat in his power, at least not with him crazy like this…”

“So, what do you have in mind?”

“I should go talk to Olaf… but I won’t ask him to join Ivar but Bjorn and Ubbe…”

“And leave Kattegat to Lagertha?” I said furrowing my brows

“I don’t think she’s going to rule for so long, she’s getting old… and Harald wants the throne too.”

I rested my head above his heart.

“I just wanted her dead and Bjorn suffering like I did… like Ivar is doing… I feel that as time passes, I’m losing him more and more… I’m afraid I will never have my grumpy boy back…”

“Let just leave this to the Gods… do you agree with my decision?”

I turned my eyes to him.

“After all of this can we live in a cabin in the middle of the woods?”

“Of course, everything for you two…” he said embracing me even more

“Be careful Hvitserk… I need you… we do…”

“I will. You must be careful too…”

He touched my belly where was supposed to be growing our child and we tried to sleep after so much that happened.

[kaidas-daydreams]

Hi! Could I please request a scenario with william x patri where they still share the same body and where William's upset about something and patri cheers him up? Thank you so much! Hope I'm not breaking any of your rules.

kaida's note: hi super super super sorry this was late, i had a hard time writing this because i thought it said headcanons and not scenario 😩 i kinda made this more of a platonic relationship as well. i hope you enjoy 💭

synopsis: patri helping william smile after he had noticed william being upset

genre: fluff

william vangeance x patri

warning: none

helping a dear friend

seeing someone you care deeply about upset, is a heart wrenching sight to see for anyone and that’s exactly what patri was feeling. he felt helpless seeing william upset, he wasn’t able to hug him he was living within william so what exactly could he do?

he listened to william surround himself with negative thoughts, he couldn’t comprehend why william would say such things about himself, patri thought william was as perfect as they come. to him william was a misunderstood kind soul who should never frown but smile at all times.

“william, take a break” with those words william fell into a slumber allowing for patri to now take control over his body. with william asleep, patri now had time to think alone. he knew that william was fond of songbirds and nature the only problem now is, how would he gather all the items he needed when he was most likely on the clover kingdoms most wanted list?

could he disguise himself? should he wear william’s make? or would that draw too much attention to himself seeing as william’s the captain of most powerful squad in the country? why was this so hard? all patri wanted to do was help his dear friend out of a slump.

patri looked around william’s room, it was simple and didn’t have much going on but he did notice an open bag of birdseed in the corner of the room, he remembered how much william adored songbirds. he placed a small helping of birdseed along the windowsill and awaited for any sign of the small creatures to appear. 

“i just need one...” he spent hours watching the sky, every so often a small breeze would hit his face. he was starting to give up, he thought if he could just get one songbird near the windowsill, he’d be able to make william happy with the small gesture. just as he was about to awaken william a small chirp was heard, he turned around and saw a little bird feeding on the birdseed, seconds later another one arrived and placed itself on the windowsill. he was too scared to move fearing that his sudden movement would scare the birds away but if he didn’t get back to william this would have been for nothing.

as he slowly allowed for william to once again awaken he caught a glimpse of more birds arriving, he smiled at the sight before returning inside william’s body. 

william heard the sound of chirping birds but it sounded more like a soothing melody to him, he opened his eyes to see a flock of birds on his windowsill eating the tiny bits of birdseed that remained. he couldn’t help but smile at the sight, they were beautiful some yellow, some grey, some red and some blue. he couldn’t resist it he had to touch them but when he was reaching for the birds a letter with his name written on it caught his eye, he picked it up to notice it was from patri.

“my dearest william, 

i’ve noticed something has been bothering you and much to my displeasure i cannot console you the way i wish i could. you’ve done more for me than anyone i’ve ever come to know has, i thank you for that. you’re my dearest friend and you don’t ever deserve to have a frown on your face. i hope the sight of these songbirds brings a little joy to you today, i hope this was enough to make you happy.

patri”

william couldn’t hold back his smile, thanks to patri he couldn’t even remember what he had been upset about. he was thankful to have someone like patri in his life, he hopes to have him in his life forever.

[lady-agni]

Little Bird _ Ch 4

CH 1 // CH 2 // CH 3                            AO3 // FF

CHAPTER 4 : SECRET GARDEN

SUMMARY: AU. A haunting in the Higurashi Shiro: A tragic event... and Kagome is forced to move in with her legendary grandfather. But the moment she steps into his Shiro, is when the haunting begins... and what’s with the silver statue in the garden?

PAIRING: InuKag

GENRE: Horror, Romance

___________________________________________

Last time:

Nope! Nope, nope, nope! She was not going back in there. Even if it was cold outside.

She turned back to the handsome statue as she contemplated. Kagome took a tentative step towards it, nervous that it would somehow come alive with a flurry of growls. She reached out slim fingers and spread them over it’s chiseled chest, feeling the warmth radiate off it again. So strange, she thought.

The growling did not return. So she made up her resolve and slid down it’s length, cocooning herself between it’s billowing pants and closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself and leaning her head on it’s leg. She’d rather sleep out here she decided. Surprised at how warm she was becoming, the comforting temperature and the sounds of the night lulled her to sleep.

Bliss.

Pure and utter bliss.

‘Wake up.’

Kagome scrunched her brows and turned to her side, ignoring the voice in favor of her peaceful sleep. It’d been days since she slept this good. No nightmares, no hauntings, just a calm steady serenity.

‘Wake the hell up!’ A voice growled out.

Jolting awake, Kagome drew back and with owlish eyes, stared at the silver statue shining in the growing daylight. Her forearm was raised defensively before her, just in case.

Just in case what? Kagome looked around as the haze of sleep left her, registering the fact that she had left her room last night and that she had fallen asleep in her grandfather’s garden. Come to think of it. She had completely missed dinner, and her stomach was twisting painfully because of it.

Wait, what was that? A voice had woken her up. She glanced back at the long haired silver statue, it’s grim face of a man looking past her.

That’s it, she was completely losing her mind. Either that or maybe she had formed it up in her sleep. That had to be it. She’d chalk it up to it being a voice from her forgotten dream because there was no way in the world she was thinking that voice had somehow come from the statue. Like if it was alive… or something.

“Kagome!”

She quickly turned to the sound of her grandpa’s voice, the dew from the grass wetting through her clothes. “Grandpa!”

He must have been worried. She didn’t show up for dinner and she wasn’t in her room. How would she explain this?

Her grandfather called out for her again. “I’m over here!” She waved her hand as she got up, wondering if he’d see her wherever he was. Kagome spared the statue one last glance, gray eyes gazing over it’s handsomely angry features before making her way back to the shiro. ‘Strange,’ she thought, as she passed through an open white fence that was almost swallowed whole by overgrowth, ‘I can see my room directly from here.’

She was halfway there when her grandfather finally found her. “Kagome!” He greeted weakly, hands clutching the front of his fluffy coat to stave off the morning chill. “I’ve been looking for you all night!”

“I’m sorry,” she said honestly, pulling him in for a big hug, her torso bowing over his short stature as he returned the gesture. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You missed dinner,” he said as he pulled away, holding her face in his hands as his face wrinkled with worry. “Breakfast is ready. And you’re still wearing the same clothes! What were you doing?” He pulled away to study her appearance, horror crossing his features, “did you sleep out here all night?”

“Hah,” Kagome laughed nervously, bowing low and clapping her hands once in front of her, “I was perfectly fine,” she lied. “Let me just freshen up and we can eat.” She managed to peek at him through the curtain of her hair and noticed him give her a skeptical look, before he nodded and walked away.

“Be quick girl.”

When he finally left, Kagome turned to stare at the open shoji screens of her room. It was eerily dark inside, the far wall with the sliding doors leading to the rest of the household were virtually unseen. She really didn’t want to go in there. Those glowing red eyes, the gnashing yellow teeth… her heart quickened at the thought. A nervous sweat pricked her skin, and she squeezed her hands close and then opened them a couple times to steel herself. Despite the cool morning air, her face and neck flushed hotly.

She had to do this, her clothes were in there. With a deep breath, she rushed inside. Quickly, she turned on her desk lamp, located matches in the drawer and lit the lantern on her floor. With swift movements, she closed the shoji screens that led to the garden and changed. Then she hurried to the closest bathroom to freshen up and met her grandfather for breakfast. Luckily, the whole process was met without incident. With great relief, Kagome thanked whatever Gods were looking over her and dug into her meal.

“So,” he grandfather started, startling her out of her thoughts. “You slept outside?”

Kagome blushed from embarrassment at being caught. How could she explain what had happened to her without sounding completely crazy? That the minute she stepped into his shoji, a voice had been following her, plaguing her without mercy. He’d probably send her to get therapy, and quite honestly, maybe she needed it.

She sighed, “I couldn’t sleep.” Well that wasn’t exactly a lie, yeah, she could go with that.

Gramps seemed to understand, his face softening as he reached out for her resting hand, giving it a little supportive squeeze. “This old man has lived a long life my dear. You can speak your troubles here.”

Suddenly emotional, Kagome fought to blink back the sudden rush of tears. This was the worst week of her life, and the unwavering support moved her. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, her family's faces passing through her mind as she turned her hand to hold his in return. “Thanks Grandpa.” They exchanged sad, small smiles until Kagome could bare it no longer and took a long sip out of her orange juice.

She needed to change the subject before totally breaking down in front of him. She could only expose that sorrow in solitude, refusing to burden him - or anyone for that matter - more than she already was. “So,” she started as she swallowed her emotions bitterly, “those statues in the garden.”

“Ah yes,” he seemed to brighten immediately, “those statues are full of history!”

Kagome laughed at his enthusiasm, thinking about the long haired sculpture who’s sharp face she remembered in detail. She took a bite of her fish after dipping it in some sauce. “I’ve never seen that tall one before. Is it new?”

“Tall one?” Grandpa looked confused as he spoke behind a napkin. “Ah! You mean the dragon on the pillar near the east side!”

His granddaughter frowned. “No… the one near the koi pond after the fence. It’s got long hair,” she brushed her fingers through her own, grabbing the edges with her finger tips for emphasis. Then lifted said fingers and flicked her index nail, “claws,” Finally, she reached over her head and motioned with both hands, “and pointy ears.”

Grandpa choked on his food in the middle of her description. Kagome felt the blood rush out of her face as she watched him clear his throat and look at her, clearly bewildered. “Kagome… dear-”

She laughed, not knowing what else to do, “I must have dreamed it up!” She scratched the back of her head and smiled demurely. “So,” she scooped the last of her fish and rice, “tell me about that dragon one!”

He seemed to not notice the change in conversation, brightening again to finally have someone to talk to about the historic sculptures in the center garden. Kagome listened with a bright smile as she pondered why grandpa had no idea about the seemingly angry, handsome statue in the back, and about why she was being terrorized while he seemed to continue living blissfully in his shiro.

That second night passed without incident. The movers had arrived and she left her boxes in the hallway, refusing to enter her bedroom. Kagome avoided her room until it was inevitable. and finally subjected herself to sleep. She kept the shoji doors to the garden open, watching the slivers of moonlight shine on the otherworldly statue in the distance, bringing her a strange sort of comfort until she finally succumbed to her exhaustion.

It was the middle of her third night that something woke her from her nightmares - something of normal occurrence since her family had passed.

She had taken a new habit of sleeping with the screens open. The sight of the silver adonis brought her some much needed comfort, especially since it was the only night since her family’s passing that she slept without the plague of nightmares.

Sounds she could scarcely describe woke her. She sat up in her futon as she looked out into the night shaded garden. As if in a trance, she stood and walked onto the damp grass. Kagome followed the gruesome sounds; screeching, ripping, roaring, and cawing. Her body seemed to walk of its own accord, walking over garden bridges, streams, and ponds. Somehow she had opened more screens, walking through the shiro and to the edge of the property. She stared into the woods unblinking as she witnessed creatures she could never begin to describe course through the air in a horde, then descending to the ground somewhere in the dark where she could not see.

Before she could fully awaken, one noticed her and diverged from the group. It turned in a loud sickening crack, then headed straight for her. This seemed to waken Kagome from her daze as she stumbled back, a forearm raised in feeble defense. The creature had more eyes than Kagome could count, it’s sharp toothed jaw agape as it lunged for her.

A scream left her as she fell to the ground, just narrowly escaping what she assumed could have been the end of her life. The hoard disappeared, and a guttural screech roared behind her. She turned on her back as a grotesquely huge serpent lunged at her, claws like a hawk protruded from its slithering body and snatched her arm, digging in deep and pulling it away from her chest as it opened its jaw, fangs leaking with a smoking liquid, burning through her clothes as she raised her free hand and yelled. She didn’t know what happened. One moment her life had flashed before her eyes, utter terror, and then the brightest light blinded her. All sound and movement screeched to a maddening halt. And the world was no more.

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[sennextheassasinkingoflight]

Redemption, My Love

Chapter 7  Cross posted here on Ao3 Cursed TV 2020 Lancewain Rating Explicit for lots of reasons. I Suggest viewing the tags on Ao3. The major ones: Referenced/past child abuse (all types includes noncon) angst,  canon typical blood and gore, language dark themes. 

Chapter Summary:

Merlin and Morgana search for Nimue.

Pym is a leader in the making ( you can't change my mind).

Lancelot reveals a secret.

Adjusting his feet on uneven, slick stone Merlin holds the widow close against his chest. The rain and waterfall spray soaks them through their layers of clothing and chills them to the bone. Or it would have, if not for the fact that the woman is Death and death could not feel such trivial things as hot and cold, nor could Merlin focus on such a mortal difficulty as magic hummed through his veins once more. The whir of magic crackles in the air around them, lightning flashing, visible even through closed eyes. The spell works as it should; for a moment they fall through shadow and nothing, then they land, feet rejoining the earth. Opening his eyes, he squints against the spray seeking to destroy his retinas and scans the turning water for his daughter. Nimue had to be here, in this pool. Certainly she could have been pushed further down stream, but it seemed at this moment, unlikely. The widow with her new face pulls away from him to begin her own frantic and frightful search. He blinks against the light and the spindrift as he relishes in the vibrancy that is his returned magic. He feels renewed, whole again. He can feel the singing of magic in his veins, awakening long since closed off passageways and igniting a part of him he feared would never exist again. While he would love to bask in the ecstasy and relish the pulsing of life in his skin, he knows there is a more urgent matter to attend. He joins the widow, the new widow, in her search for Nimue. 

He circles opposite the woman cloaked in black, drenched clothing leaving nothing to be imagined, and seeks out signs of blood in the water, hair on the surface, anything to tell him where Nimue has surfaced. They cannot search farther downstream until they are completely certain she is not here, and that might take a while with only the two of them. Walking slowly, deliberately, he looks for signs in the grass and the mud on the edge of the shore for signs of his daughter. Finding none, he fears that the current may have carried her further downstream; He groans. She doesn’t have time for them to be wasting it, walking around. He will not lose her now that he knows of her. Now that he has a chance to get to know her. The sun is beginning to fade, and they will quickly lose the ability to search for her. They must be brisk in their search, careful but quick. Glancing across the basin he finds the widow doing the same. When their eyes meet they share a grim shake of their heads. There is nothing that indicates she is still in the tarn. Drenched from head to toe, clothes clinging tightly to their bodies, they rejoin one another nearest the mouth of the narrow river.  The only place they could not see was directly beneath the waterfall, and the power of the torrent alone would have pushed Nimue, unconscious or not, outward from its base. “She must be further downstream.”  The woman insists. “Who are you and how did you become the widow?” He yells against the roaring of the falls and the deafening humming in his ears. The woman flinches back and stares at him, eyebrows pinched together creasing her forehead. Shaking her head in annoyance or disappointment she pushes past him and begins the trek down stream. Instinctively he follows, crossing over to the other side of the small river; despite its size, it is flowing quickly and roughly. From this side he can see into the reeds of the opposite bank better. In this way they can cover both sides more effectively, and be ready to assist her as soon as they find her. And they will find her, of that he is certain; the only question that remains is whether she will be alive when they do. 

The pair walk in silence down the banks separated by the roar of the rapids and the thundering of the falls.  Merlin's eyes dart between the bank, the river, and the new widow. This does not bode well. He wonders what has happened that the widow is no longer an old friend but a young and unknown face. He knows that it means she was killed, at some level, but it is surprising all the same. Whatever happened can't be good. Pushing that train of thought away he turns his attention back to the grassy banks of the turbulent river. Pointedly, he ignores the familiar itch in his right hand, and pushes down the haze that comes with having not used his magic in so long. 

When the sound of the falls has died to a mere whimper he calls across the river, repeating his previous question.  The woman answers, voice steady and unwavering. She does not meet his eyes, and that is fine. “Who are you and how did you come to be the widow?” “I’m Morgana, Nimue's friend. Don’t you recognize me?” She barks out, shaking her head at him and rolling her eyes. “My dear, when you have lived as long as I have, you stop remembering faces that aren't important.”  This is the best answer he can offer her. “And I killed the widow with that sword.”  Shrugging, she turns her attention to a reedy area. There is an odd break in the foliage growing in the shallows of the bend. The tall grasses are folded over and there is an indentation in the berry bush. Without thinking he runs ahead to the visibly shallower section of the river and splashes his way back to her. His robes drag in the water behind him but he can’t be bothered to mess with them as he hears Morgana cry out. HIs heart constricts in his chest and he redoubles his effort to reach them. 

“Nimue, Nimue!” Morgana calls and kneels beside the form of a body he can barely see from his vantage point. He bats the branches of the bush away with the sword and kneels in the water to get a better look at the wounds. Initially he can see that the arrow from her shoulder has dislodged itself completely and is oozing blood, the other arrow has broken off leaving a short nub where the shaft should have been.  He knows his magic and his knowledge could help her, but they don’t have any supplies here. He inhales sharply, his mind made up. “We need to get her to a healer.” Morgana's wavering voice catches his attention and for a moment all he can do is stare. 

These two women, his daughter and her friend, the widow, are so young. Blinking he nods, “I know. Now take my hand and hold tight to her. I haven’t done this in years.” +++++PYM+++++

Looking out from the cave she can see that they have lost a great many in this betrayal. She swallows and pushes past Kaze. She isn’t the best healer but she could certainly help. She needed to help. The sight of the Red Spear and her men only encourages her to do so. She had tended to those men and it had kept her alive, and now they had helped save her people. For their own reasons she was sure, but the least she could do for Doff's brothers was help them live. Beyond that her own people need help, and she has enough skills to be useful now. 

The sand under her feet gives way and she nearly falls several times as she avoids puddles of blood forming on the still wet sand and corpses alike, searching for those that are alive and can be helped. She doesn’t get far before Arthur and The Red Spear are calling for her. Their voices are barely audible over the wind blowing through the beach. She whips her head around and wipes stray hairs from her face, annoyed. What could they possibly need that is more important than this? Why aren't they getting the others to help? Moving much more quickly than she had been she makes her way towards them. Her shoulders draw inward as she comes under the gaze of the Red Spear, and she ducks her head in acknowledgment. “You have found your people again, healer.” Fidgeting with her braid she nods. The Red Spear does not seem at all enthused. Arthur looks between them and huffs out a laugh. “Well then, I suppose you can act as our go-between since you actually have an understanding of the raiders.” “We aren’t raiders, we are warriors! That is beside the point now. The wounded need tended to. We have put down the last of Cumber's men.” “Our healers will do everything they can for your men as well as our own. Pym organize those who can help with this.” “Me!” She lets her hands fall away from her braid and stares at Arthur in surprise. “Yes, you. The people will listen to you. Nimue left me in charge but I’m not a fey. Work with me.” 

Throwing her hands up she turns her back on the couple and mutters, “Sure thing, as if Cora or the others wouldn't be better matched for this.” She trudged back across the body strewn beach, towards the other fey. As she approaches, some of the older fey moved towards the front of the group. Expressing a strength she did not feel, she pulls her shoulders back and tries for an air of authority. “I need volunteers to tend to the wounded. And volunteers to sort through the bodies of the dead, so we can send them into the twilight properly.” She lets her words hang in the air, her throat constricting. They have all lost so many people, family, friends, loved ones. When the silence has stretched untowardly long, she collects herself and pushes the distraught faces from her mind. “If you are strong enough to carry the wounded and dead, I need you out there doing so. Wounded go near the cave, the dead get sorted here on the beach. If you cannot lift the injured I want you setting up tents to tend them in near the caves. If you are a healer or have any knowledge or practice in the area, we need to get the supplies set up so we can all access them.” Her voice is soft on the wind of the coast, and for a moment she fears no one has heard her, but then they start moving. Men and women both in groups to the cave, the boats with their supplies, and towards the red stained sand. She takes a moment longer to collect herself and joins the others at the cave. Kaze has gone, joining Arthur, the Red Spear, and several other warriors near the center of the battlefield. Ignoring them, Pym sets to work laying out blankets and weighing them down on the edges. They use crates and rocks to lift their tools, salves, and bandages from the ground, to put their pestles and mortars on. It isn’t long before the injured start filling up the space around them. She answers questions as best she can, and fields the others to Yeva or Cora or any of the elders who have come to help. They know more than she, she thinks. She is surrounded by the noise of the dying, and wounded, of healers, and mothers and fathers treating them as best they can. Whispered prayers and howls of pain are her companions in the fading light of day. The smell of sea water and herbs cover over the smell of death, but infection is the main concern for those who yet live. There are those they can’t save, as there always are after a battle. She does her best to make them comfortable, but does not waste the medicines they have on bandaging the wounds. They give those who are entering into the realm of the dead only pain relief and make them as comfortable as possible. She knows what those who have no hope of life left look like, and when she glances around she sees that she is not alone in this. The moans and groans of the dying men and women around her cause her heart to ache. There is nothing for it, nothing but to continue doing as she was and tending the injured she could still help. 

Her hands have stopped shaking as she works at stitching up a gash in a Tusks arm. Willing herself to breath evenly, she focuses on the individual stitches. They aren’t as neat as some of the others, that’s for certain, but they get the job done. It stops the bleeding and presses the flesh together in a seam. With quick and definitive movements she covers the flesh with a poultice and wraps it with clean bandages and sends this one on his way. They work well into the dark, the torches and bonfires their only light. It’s harder this way, but there are still many injured, and it would not do well to let them wait until morning. Finished with another patient, she stretched out her neck, rolling her shoulders and stretching out her arms before slumping forward on one of the crates and closing her eyes for a moment. She barely reacts when something warm is draped over her shoulders. It seems to her she has only rested a moment when she was shaken awake. ‘Wha-what is it?” She slurs, wiping sleep from her eyes and attempting to grasp at the blanket falling from her shoulders. As it landed in the dust it was forgotten. There, at the center of the camp stood Morgana, soaking wet and dressed in black, with Merlin; and in their arms a limp and bleeding Nimue. 

++++Lancelot++++

 They’ve been traveling for three days in varying degrees of silence and conversation. It’s just after noon, the sun is high above them, though it is blocked by angry black clouds. The air is heady with the scent of rain, and the trio has fallen into another silence. Their moods sour by the idea that they may be traveling while soaking wet. It is not ideal, but there would be a day yet before they arrive at Beggars Coast with no certainty that they would be met with the rest of the Fey. It wears on The Green Knight, and even Percival begins to show signs of concern. 

The scenery has changed at least. The paths that they follow now are not so open and full of short shrubs and weeds. Instead, the narrow trails are hidden among the trees of the woods; they are little more than those created by the deer. He follows behind Gawain, Percival in front of him in the saddle. He can’t help but cast his gaze to and fro, tracking movement in the woods. Normally he is very good about blocking out scents he doesn’t need to focus on, but today he lets them invade his senses. Everything from the scent of the boy in front of him to the fox scurrying over a log 30 feet from them. It’s fresh and puts him at ease. Familiar in a way nothing has been in a very long time. There is no blood, smoke, or burning flesh, no infection, rotting flesh, or soiled goods to assault his senses. Silently he watches as squirrels scurry across the forest floor seeking out food before the storm comes.

 The shift of wind around them breaks his focus and he turns his eyes forward to study the tight line of Gawain's shoulders. The warrior sits rigid and still, he would be a statue if not for the gentle sway of riding a horse. Something is bothering him, but Lancelot does not know if he has any right to inquire as to what. Instead, he tries to think through what might have The Green Knight of the Fey so concerned. The problem with this, is that he doesn’t know anything about him. Well nothing personal.  Lancelot knows that he is the most prominent and perhaps skilled fighter of the Fey, that he was their one of their leaders (if his silence in Brother Salt's tent was anything to go by) and that he is concerned that they won’t make it in time to meet with the others. While these are all pertinent pieces of information, they do not account for the other man's foul mood. Perhaps he has a loved one or lover among the Fey whom he is concerned for? The possibilities are endless. “Lancelot?” He nearly misses Percivals uncertain voice as it bleeds into the wind. “Yes?” “You never answered my question.” “Hm, which of your questions? You asked many questions.” The acknowledgment makes his stomach turn. He does not want to return to discussion on his actions. Not at this moment at least. “Why did you name him Goliath?” The boy pats the horse's neck and gives it a scratch, which Goliath seems appreciative of. There was no harm in telling him the truth now that he wasn’t dying. “Because he is large and powerful. Goliath was a giant who nearly conquered an entire army single handedly, according to the scriptures.” He had thought it impossible for Gawain to look more uncomfortable but he notes the twitch in his shoulders as he stops himself from turning to look at them. Lancelot has not looked away from the other man since he started trying to determine the cause of his melancholy. “Nearly? What happened? Why Didn’t he?” As predicted, Percival seems excited about the prospect of a new story. Unfortunately Lancelot intends only to paraphrase. He doesn't think Gawain would appreciate him spouting his beliefs, the paladins' beliefs, at the boy. “He was hit in the head with a stone, and once unconscious his head was cut off by his enemy.” “That's stupid. Why would you name your horse after someone who died like that? It’s ridiculous.” “Perhaps, it is a reminder that even the greatest can fall. I believe it suits him.” “ Do you...do you think he likes his name?” The hesitation in Percivals voice combined with the new scent coming off him set Lancelot on alert. He is up to something, even if The Weeping Monk does not know what. “Do I…. He responds to it. I imagine it doesn’t matter to him as it does to us.” He furrows his brows as he considers the boy's implication, but keeps looking ahead. “But do you know that for sure? Maybe he’s like me. Maybe he doesn’t like Goliath but likes being called Midnight. But you call him Goliath anyways because Midnight 'is a time of day'.” 

Ahh so that's what it's about, then. The thought makes him feel lighter; he could almost laugh at the absurdity of it. “Percival… Is this about me telling you Squirrel isn’t a real name.” “I don’t know, bloody idiot, figure it out.” The boy crosses his arms in front of him, and Goliath whinnies as if in agreement with him. Gawain huffs the barest laugh in front of them, and his shoulders relax the barest amount. 

Lancelot's lips twitch uncertainly in the ghost of a smile and he refocuses on the boy in front of him. “Why don’t you like your name?” “I just don’t, okay.” “Why do you want me to call you Squirrel instead?” It’s the same question in different words and he hopes that maybe the boy will answer. Though, he knows he is smart and may see it as the repetition it is. “Because I do.” “Percival, those are not answers.” He tries to be gentle, but his voice comes out firm. He is accustomed to giving orders, not making requests. “Yes. They are.” Percival pouts and lets his hands fall to the saddle horn in front of him. “They are not useful answers.” He does chuckle lightly at this, so lightly it goes unnoticed, “I will make you a deal. If you can tell me why it is that you do not like your name and prefer me to call you Squirrel, then I will try to call you the name you prefer.”  

Percival fell silent as though he is thinking about what he wants to say in response to Lancelot's offer. He fidgets slightly with the reigns he is holding. Lancelot watches his movements carefully but does not worry much, Goliath is well trained. He notes Gawain casting a curious and unreadable look over his shoulder, but says nothing; there is no reason for it. Percival draws in a deep breath and Lancelot's lungs ache in reaction to it. He longs for the day when he can breath deeply again without his ribs protesting, or to ride without the constant dizzying reminder that they are broken. They are still far from healed enough to do something like that. Instead Lancelot focuses on breathing shallowly through his nose. “Gawain. Stop.” He hisses as he takes the reins from Percival and reigns Goliath up short. Gawain follows suit just in front of them, eyes darting around the woods for whatever he has seen. ‘What is it?” Percival asks in a harsh whisper, Gawain looks at them quizzically, waiting silently for an answer.

“Paladins, I’m not certain how many,” glancing around and taking a deeper breath he adds, “Five or six maybe. Less than a mile ahead.” “How can you know that? There’s no sign of them.” The knight responds irate, eyebrow raised and eyes searching. Lancelot realizes that Gawain believes this to be a trap. It is not far from the reality of what could have been. He will have to speak the truth and hope that Gawain believes him. Shifting uncomfortably under The Green Knights relentless gaze he clears his throat and answers more quietly than necessary: “I can smell them.” 

He watches realization unfold on Gawain's face as everything falls together. Certainly Lancelot as a Fey could have led them to Nemos or elsewhere based on the old Fey signs they left, but he had been a child when he was taken, he wouldn’t have known all of it, maybe not even enough to take him to where the others were. But this, this information puts it all into perspective. He watches as Gawain shifts between surprise, confusion, realization, anger, and alarm. Before Gawain can open his mouth to respond, they hear shouting over the bluff.