#look at these ships but it's a damn camping trip

[ladyzirkonia]

I'm so exhausted after today. I just wanna join these Mandalorians. Playing ball and having a damn camping trip.

Sitting with this handsome modern Mandalorian guy in a folding lawn chair and drinking some pog soup.

Thank you @fulcrum-art-fox

[ashen-char]

out here

ship: amber freeman (scream) x gender neutral reader

warnings: slight mentions of sex, nudity, drinking, blood (but nothing nsfw)

summary: amber can get you to do anything. but camping with her friends? ...yes, she can get you to do even that.

word count: 1000+

Woodsboro, California. Named for the dense forest along the outskirts of town. The woods are a popular hang-out spot for the local teenagers, who like to camp or throw parties. You wake up tangled in Amber's arms after a night of drinking and swapping ghost stories around the campfire with her friends. Rays of sunlight trickle through the thin nylon of the shitty tent you two bought on the way here.

Her friends, namely the twins Mindy and Chad, had hyped everyone up to celebrate finally graduating. Wes, always a big survival planner, had texted the group a list of essentials the night before. Bear spray, flashlights, sleeping bags, enough clothes to last two days, actual food. No one listened, of course, and instead Amber had teased him for being such a killjoy.

At first, you had resisted this little spontaneous weekend getaway. You were busy, and plus you were always more of an indoors person. All the camping trips you remembered growing up made you think about sore legs from too much walking, views that weren't worth it, and mosquito bites.

But Amber had a way of getting to you. She had winked, pressing against you, looking up at you with those big brown eyes. Whispering promises of sharing a tent together and the things you could get up to when you're all alone. So now you're in the middle of the woods, dealing with bugs and no Wi-Fi and shitty signal. Yay.

"Amber. You're, ugh," you groan, trying (and failing) to extricate yourself from her grip. She's stronger than she looks. When your arms protest the sudden movement, you give up, melting into her hold. "You're suffocating me."

"Yeah, but you like it," Amber tells you. She nuzzles into your neck, not even a little bit sorry. You can feel her smug smile against your skin, that wide grin of hers when she knows she's getting her way.

After some grumbling and weak protests otherwise, the two of you end up in a play wrestle. You don't try that hard, knowing that if you ever actually exert yourself to pushing Amber away she'd get even more excited. She likes this game. Too much, probably. The almost-violence, the thrill of playing rough with someone you care about. The danger. With how often Amber gets her way, sometimes it's nice to pretend that you won't just give it to her. But you both know how this always goes. You don't actually want to hurt her, and Amber wants more, more, more. She nips your neck hard enough to bleed.

It ends up with Amber on top of you, straddling your waist. Her hands encircle your wrists, pinning you to the sleeping bag. Her eyes sparkle as she stares down at you. Maybe you shouldn't find this so sexy. But the early morning sunlight hits illuminates Amber from behind and it makes her shine. She's still naked from last night, her pale skin marked with bruises from sleeping on the hard ground. Among the other activities you two got up to last night. Her hair is sticking up from tossing and turning, and the sleeping bag is bunched up around her waist. Now that's a view that's worth it. Amber looks like an angel. A sinister one who's celebrating winning by playing dirty, but an angel nonetheless.

"I could buck you off," you warn.

"Yeah, right." She knows you wouldn't. There's a look in her eye practically asking for you to try.

You assess the pros and cons. In truth, you're too hungover and tired from last night to try. And you can breathe again since Amber isn't crushing your windpipe with her arm around you. "...Fine. You win this time, Freeman."

Amber leans down into your warmth until you're pressed together again. "Damn right I do, babe," she mutters into your chest. A kiss there, at your collarbone, then a few more up towards the hickeys she left along your throat. You think you even feel her kissing at the bite she gave you. An apology for playing so rough? "Now shut up and cuddle me."

So now you're snuggled up with your violent cutie of a girlfriend, your arms loose around her waist. When she complains, you tighten your grip. Amber craves attention from you like she craves air.

Not too long passes before you hear the others outside. They're already getting up, unlike you two, getting breakfast together. Everyone besides Wes only brought booze and snacks, so you aren't surprised when you hear Chad annoying him. "Wes, come on," you hear Chad say, "you know you brought all that to share! What kinda friend lets his buddies starve to death, huh?"

"This is why everyone should actually use my checklists. I don't send them as a joke-" Whatever. You drown them out, instead focusing on the girl in your arms. Her eyes are closed, so there's some chance you're waking her up again. 

"Your friends are annoying," you say to Amber. It's a fond observation though. They've all grown on you since you and Amber got together. With how tight-knit they are, you've had to hang out with them pretty often. They're all so different from each other and yet they're so close. Different interests, clashing personalities. Hell, if it weren't for the occasional horror movie marathons, you wouldn't think that they'd get along at all. "I don't know how you even deal with them."

"They're my best friends. And they have been since I was a kid, basically," Amber replies, her voice low so they don't hear her defending them. Everyone but Tara - and now you - haven't heard her like this. Sweet, caring. Loyal. She might be snarky with her friends, but deep down she loves each of them in her own way. "They can be annoying, yeah," she concedes, "but they matter to me."

Before you can crack a joke about how Amber must enjoy annoying since she's dating you, she snuggles closer. The two of you listen to the rest of her friends chattering away outside. Liv tells her boyfriend to stop annoying Wes, and Tara asks for breakfast in a less entitled way. Wes gives in, obviously, because Chad was right and he brought enough food for everyone on purpose.

"Plus, they're your friends now too, babe," Amber says.

With one last deep kiss before you two should get up, you sigh in contentment. Her lips are just that good. Fine. You can admit that camping isn't that bad. Camping with her, at least. Maybe it's fine to always let Amber win.

[solarmorrigan]

39 + 95, ship of your choice

Fanfiction Trope Mashup: 39. Survival/Wilderness Fic + 95. Sleep Intimacy

Hello! So I'm going to be honest with you and say that survival/wilderness stories have always given me anxiety and I've never enjoyed reading them, so the closest I got in writing one was a camping fic. I know it's not the same, but hopefully this is alright <3 (ship of choice was Steddie)

-

You might not know it to look at him, but Eddie had been an outdoorsy kind of kid.

He’d loved playing outside (he’s still the king of finding cool sticks to use as wizard staffs) and he’d always looked forward to his and Wayne’s annual camping trips. Wayne had taught him a lot about surviving in the wilderness on those long weekends, and Eddie had looked at them as grand adventures.

Eventually, of course, Eddie had gained other interests, and Wayne’s hours at the plant had changed, and the camping trips had petered to a stop. Eddie looks on the memories fondly, but doesn’t necessarily feel the need to go back and relive them (particularly not after the days he spent roughing it during the spring break from Hell). He’s happy to leave the outdoorsy activities to Steve these days. Steve loves going hiking, loves swimming, doesn’t even mind doing yardwork; he’s the one people would look at and assume he’d spent his childhood outdoors, except–

“You’ve never been camping?” Eddie asks, sitting up to look down at Steve where he’s squished in beside Eddie on a pool lounger that is absolutely not meant to fit two people.

Steve shrugs. “I always wanted to go, used to ask my dad a lot, and he used to promise he’d take me when he could get the time off of work,” he says. “I think he got pretty fed up with my asking, though, so I just kinda… stopped.”

Well, damn, if that doesn’t poke at a soft spot in Eddie’s hardened little heart.

“We could go,” Eddie blurts.

Steve blinks up at him. “What?”

“Me and Wayne used to go camping every year. I remember a lot of how it’s done, so… you and I could go,” Eddie offers. “If you want.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, a smile blooming across his face.

Eddie can’t help his answering smile. “Shit, yeah. Let’s go.”

If it makes Steve this happy, Eddie thinks in between Steve’s excited little kisses of thanks, then even if it goes terribly, Eddie won’t regret offering.

It takes a little bit to finagle their schedules and get time off together, but they manage it on the first nice weekend in spring. They pack Steve’s car up with a tent and sleeping bags and provisions and everything else Eddie can remember them needing (and a few things Wayne helpfully reminds him of), and they set off on their adventure.

The weekend starts off well. They set up the tent with minimal swearing, and manage to get a fire going, and explore the trails surrounding their camp, and spend the first night looking at the stars that shine brighter here than they do over Hawkins, and it’s nice.

It’s nice right up until Midwestern weather rears its unpredictable head while Eddie and Steve are out hiking on Saturday afternoon. The clouds roll in fast, rain-scented wind kicking up and shaking the limbs of the trees above them; they turn around to head back to camp, but they aren’t quick enough to beat the incoming rainstorm.

They’re soaked by the time they reach the tent, running and spluttering and laughing breathlessly, zipping the flap shut behind them and shucking their wet clothes before they can drip all over everything. They leave them in a heap off to the side, hopefully to be line-dried later, and do their best to dry off in the confined space.

“Gonna be hard to warm up without the fire,” Steve comments as he tries to scrub the rainwater out of his hair.

The weather has been nice, but not so nice that standing around damp and in their underwear is particularly comfortable. Even in the close space of the tent, the air isn’t warm, and Eddie eyes the goosebumps texturing the bare expanse of Steve’s tanned skin.

“I have an idea,” Eddie says, and Steve looks up at him expectantly. “C’mere.”

Eddie nods to the little nest they’d made the previous night by zipping two sleeping bags together and covering it with a couple of extra blankets. They don’t bother with dry clothes – isn’t skin-to-skin contact better for warming up, after all? Eddie slides in first and Steve joins him, immediately pressing the line of his body up against Eddie’s, curling an arm around his waist, tangling their legs, and resting his cheek against Eddie’s chest. Eddie tucks the blankets up a little closer around the both of them and settles down, wrapping both arms around Steve’s back.

“How’s this?” he asks.

He can feel Steve’s contented sigh as much as he can hear it, and Steve wiggles a little against Eddie’s front, as if there’s any space left between them to eliminate.

“This is good,” Steve says softly.

And it is, Eddie decides. He presses a kiss to the top of Steve’s head, where the earthy smell of the rain lingers, underscored by the faint, familiar scent of Steve’s shampoo. Rain continues to patter against the roof of their tent, and the soft, dim afternoon light does nothing to discourage either of them from beginning to drift.

If it can always be like this, Eddie doesn’t think he’d mind making camping an annual thing again. He wouldn’t mind at all.

[dominantslasherking]

Predator/Yautja with Dominant Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+.

Backstory: Male Yautja wants to breed with his human mate.

Your friends were being hunted, alongside you, Your body was already aching for running and hiding out for hours on end, watching your friends die around you, wasn't something anyone would enjoy.

"Fuck..." A murmur uttered from your throat as you leaned against a tree, it was hard to see since it was pitch black outside, and you had no idea where you were since you and your friends decided to go on a hiking plus camping trip in the middle of a forest.

Your [Eye color] eyes threatened to shut, begging for rest, a deep breath escaped your mouth, as you decided to let your body rest, not expecting to fall asleep just as quick.

<<>>><<>>

Something was different, the weather wasn't as cold as it was, in fact, it was rather a normal temperature, and your back wasn't hurting, as it normally would sleeping against a hard tree. Slowly you opened your eyes, one of your eyes slightly drooping shut since it was indeed swollen from---from that fucking creatures blade, which had slashed you, luckily you had closed your eyes in time, so there was no serious damage to your eyeball itself, the same couldn't be said for your eyelid.

A loud clicking sound made you regain focus, and finally, see where you were..it looked like---some type of ship Obviously not human with all the strange details and highly advanced areas in it. You seemed to be in some type of room, on top of a bed, a comfortable large one might you add.

You felt something strange press into your side, a warmth, as if something--no someone was cuddling against you. A choke had caught itself in your throat, seeing one of those things that were hunting you and had killed most of your friends.

What was more considering than the literal alien cuddled up against you, was the hardness also pressed against you....The alien was--Horny.

For some odd reason your body had reacted to the big alien horniess, your body had begun to get all hot causing you to also get a boner. At that strange moment you wanted to curse at yourself, and your cock brushed against the fabric of your joggers.

Trying to get out of the grasp of the alien ended up as a bad idea, as it was now holding your arm down while staring at you, its mask was off, showing its strange-looking face, but you were disgusted.

It suddenly made strange clicking sounds into its wristband, causing a bold voice to speak up from the wrists device, "Ooman," Was the clearest word you could makeup, the rest were rather jumbled up and confusing.

Your body completely froze, once the alien had a firm grip on your clothes cock, which was painfully hard. Your teeth grinted holding in the groan from the unexpected gesture. You slightly moved, causing your knee to brush up against the creature's own hard cock.

"Shit--Sorry--Crap I did not mean to--!!!!" The creature wasted no time in ripping off the annoying joggers. The Yautja made clicking sounds out of approval at your large size(Thats what you hoped those clicking sounds were anyway...)

At this point, you really didn't care that this alien had killed your friends, you were horny, it was horny. However there was one thing you wouldn't slide, you were NOT going to let the alien fuck you, you wanted to fuck the alien instead...First it killed your friends, you'll be damned if it tried to top.

<<>><>>>

The Yautja's puckering hole was glistening with a strange liquid, which was easily used on lube once you popped your cock deep inside, with struggle since it was a very tight area. The clicking sounds it made were rapid as it let out a purr of thunder, once you had fully placed yourself inside.

Your hands had begun to roam the Aliens firm body until you had a nice grip on his hips, the Aliens cock was about the same as you, (Larger than average)

The Alien had a nice meaty ass, which was also being used as a gripper. It's not like you hadn't had sex before, but damn, the Alien was so fucking tight and every time you had pulled out, just to thrust back in, it felt as if the alien's hole was sucking you in completely, begging you to never leave the wet Craven area.

Your thrusts were wild like a beast, not able to resist the temptation of the pleasure coursing through your veins. Purring had erupted from the Aliens throat, enjoying the strange pleasures of having a cock in him, which he had never had before.

The Yautja a great hunter, had decided he was obviously going to keep his human mate, after all, a mate was very scarce, and the intense pleasure was just a bonus.

[katerinaaqu]

Ismarus! Ismarus! (P3 + Afternote)

Continuation from Part 2 So October 6th had been a special day to me because two very good artists have posted art from the OG works of the epic cycle and were kind enough to consider my help! I am immensely honored! The artists are of course @jacobpking with the amazing odyssey project and @shafeeyaart with the three main couples So I had to finish my fic now as you remember dedicated also to my friend @artsofmetamoor and her amazing art! Followed by my usual notes and afternote!

He shook the helmet so that the stones remaining in it would be mixed better. As one hand reached in and picked one was followed by a yelp of triumph and a disappointed moan from another direction.

“On your face, Nicolaus!” the soldier who obviously got the price he wanted called back to his friend, “She’s mine!”

“Damn you, lucky bastard!” his friend grunted as he saw the other take the woman-prize he had won in the lottery, “I should fucking kill you! Always with that rotten luck of yours!”

“Hey, hey!” Odysseus called out warningly, “Enough with this!”

He was holding these helmets for hours now; making sure that all ships got their share one by one in sharing the spoils and the slaves that were to be taken with them during their trip. Somehow Odysseus had a bad feeling about this; they had started this whole campaign to get provisions; carrying extra load and mouths to feed seemed a bold and counterproductive move. However leaving them behind was also a risky decision. Slaves and gifts could be exchangeable to lands they would encounter if there would be a need for more provisions or hospitality gifts. Although he knew some of his men wouldn’t want to part with them. He remembered Troy again; how they got divided in the 9th year of the fight, over a concubine. He looked over to the sides where the old and the new captives were. Some of them were also his own; working as servants among the troops and taking care of the horses of his chariot. For one second he remembered his long lost youth; he had lain with women before. Servants and some slaves had passed from his bed before that blessed trip to Sparta; some were skilled and willing, one or two were worried and scared of him or his status.

During the war, for one or two moments of desperation and longing he had considered it; to take one of them again. However the very moment they were before his eyes, he felt disgusted with the idea and his weakness for even considering it; ending up sending them away. The slave women that he had taken from his days of fight and plunder seemed empty in his eyes now. It wasn’t the abstinence that made him so restless to go home though. Oh, he wished his wife was here to embrace her and apologize to her for his absence! He wanted to fall in her arms and kiss her like no tomorrow; forget himself in her bosom and cry till he wouldn’t have any more tears to shed; he wanted to beg her for forgiveness for letting war turn him to what he became! He shook his head violently, to lift those thoughts away (and possibly some tears that threatened to burn his eyes) returning to the lottery. The spoils were almost completely done and shared. He sighed.

“Eurylochus, finish this, please…” he said leaving the helmet to the hands of his brother-in-law, “I am tired. I also need to inspect the rest”

“As you wish, sire…”

Odysseus stood at the middle of the men who were admiring the spoils they would get. He looked around the mountains already turning dark by the dusk as the sun had set to the other side of the horizon. There was something ominous about the mountains and they were exposed. They couldn’t seek shelter in the city that was almost burnt to the ground by that moment so they had to camp by the beach and the fact that they had only the sea and the mountain for escape routes was something he didn’t like. The mountain was almost threatening now!

“Alright, men!” he called over the voices of discussions and laughter, making sure all had their ears on him, “We finish the sharing and we set ourselves to go! We are exposed here. You had your fun, now we embark to go!”

“Go?” one of the generals, the one who had complained upon the other man getting a better woman said, “We sailed for five days in a storm and we spent the entire day fighting and now you want us to embark again for the unknown in the middle of the night?”

Odysseus looked at him in disbelief.

“What part of ‘we’re exposed’ don’t you understand?” he yelled back, “We are but a handful of people, we are in a foreign land surrounded by unknown mountains! Anything could attack us at any moment and we will be unable to react! I am not discussing it! We’re leaving!”

“No!” one other general said firmly as he stood up, “We won’t leave! We earned a day of peace! Let us at least sleep in dry land for once!”

“Are you defying my order?” Odysseus’s eyes sparkled warningly

“We cannot follow that order now, sire!” the man stood his ground, “You can’t demand from us to sail so early!”

“You heard what Odysseus said!” Eurylochus came in, “This place is not secure! We will take turns resting out the sea! His judgment hasn’t failed us yet!”

“We can’t travel like this!” the first one spoke again, “You cannot force us to travel in the black night like this!”

The king of Ithaca was fuming. His hands and his entire muscle system were clenched painfully. He was almost ready to grab him and punch some sense into him. He couldn’t indeed transfer his true agony and worry that the location wouldn’t be favorable to them.

“Odysseus…” Eurylochus touched his shoulder whispering, “I understand you. You are right but everyone is exhausted from battle. And we have some more wounded to take care of and better do this on dry land…”

“Dammit!” Odysseus growled in defeat

Yes, he wouldn’t be able to force his men to follow his orders if they refused to move. As he pranced about the camp that was about to be set for a night under the stars he also watched the slaves that would be taken with them; women and children that were free a few hours prior. Their eyes were hateful; resentful. For once moment they looked like Trojans in his eyes. He shook his head trying to lift the thoughts away again.

“Sire” Perimedes spoke, he was in charge of them for that night, “Shall we move them to the ship?”

“No” Odysseus growled in annoyance, “We are supposed to stay here”

One of the tied women laughed loudly. He knew her. She was the wife of the king he had killed in battle. She was dragged out with her children along with the rest of them. Her children were set aside to be shared in the lottery. She, herself, was offered to him as a prize. Initially he had refused insisting that all should go in lottery but his men had insisted. In one way the king of Ithaca dismissed it and kept her. He wouldn’t find much use of her now anyways. She was a handsome woman with long brown locks and big brown eyes. However her beauty was insignificant to him; not to mention that the symbols of her people tattooed on her made him feel even more the danger and the disturbance inside him every time he looked at her direction. And now there was her laughter; laughter full of anger and contempt. Odysseus, with his nerves already tensed he approached and grasped her by the rope that was tying her, pulling her towards him threateningly.

“What’s so funny, huh?” he demanded

The woman spat a few words at her dialect.

“I’ll need a translator here!” Odysseus called to whoever might hear nonchalant

“Oh, I’ll give you a translator!” the woman spat in her heavy accent

“Oh, good” Odysseus said feeling a sense of déjà-vu as he almost repeated the words he had said to her late husband, “You speak our language! I had begun to fear that I need to learn more languages! My Phoenician is kinda rusty and whatever Scythian I picked up at Troy won’t help me with you!”

“Your arrogance will not save you, Greek!” the woman spat at him again, “My people will come like the rain and get you! Your days are over! You and your men shall not survive this!”

Anger boiling inside him, Odysseus grabbed her hair, earning a light yelp from her. He had to try very hard not to feel the fever of battle inside him again. He knelt down and pulled her closer to him, his faces inches apart from hers, eyeing her warningly with his eyes sparkling like the fire that forged the obsidian, the stone that had colored them!

“Listen here, madam!” he whispered dangerously, “If there is something I know best, is to survive! Mark my words on that! I would be more worried about myself than anything else!”

He released her and stood up. He began walking away ignoring whatever comments Perimedes and the rest of his companions would make about her being feisty or whether he had made a good choice for his war prize. That entire dialog disgusted him right now! The woman hissed again before growling a few words and then one more, directed to him. Odysseus winced but he kept going, not looking at her at all. He knew enough Thracian dialect to know what the word she said meant;

Monster

*

The fire was blazing at the beach but this time it was not the city burning to the ground but the multiple cooking blazes that his men had lit up. Odysseus could hear all around the sounds of cattle and sheep being slaughtered and prayers being said and sacrifices being offered. His men had also taken out some of the jugs of wine and were already mixing the red liquid to craters. Some members of his crew who knew how to play music were already setting up the instruments for dance and celebration. Odysseus could see none of that. He was constantly looking around, double-inspecting everything. In fact he refused to remove his gear. After cleaning himself and making a prayer to the gods, he demanded his armor to be placed upon him once more, his chariot inspected, fixed if necessary and ready. He could barely concentrate to his food and drink. He sighed as he sat against the root of a sea tree watching at his men dancing and drinking themselves to their heart’s desire, celebrating as if it was the end of Troy anew. Odysseus grunted and shivered a bit at the cold of the night.

“Fools!” he thought, “Mindless fools! You are getting drunk and celebrating at the footing of the enemy! Gods I wish I could just take my own ship and leave you all behind! But…UGH!”

He sighed to himself passing his hands over his face. What was he thinking?! All of them came to this together and they should leave together! Maybe he was being too paranoid. Maybe he was exaggerating. Maybe, just maybe, the Cicones wouldn’t arrive later. Maybe they weren’t so many as he feared. And maybe, just maybe, the queen was only trying to scare him.

“Hey…”

The soft voice of Polites made him literally jump out of his skin for one second. He gasped and then drew a deep breath.

“Polites!” he sighed, “You scared ten lives out of me…”

“Sorry…”

“Never mind, my friend…I am just too distracted”

He sighed gratefully as a fleece was placed upon his shoulders by Polites. He embraced it tightly around his body before double-checking that his spear was there.

“Come sit with us by the fire” Polites suggested, “It has gotten chilly”

“No thank you” Odysseus retorted, blowing some air to his hands, “I need to be here and observe the area”

“You placed guards by the camp remember?”

“Irrelevant!”

He drew a breath and tried to collect himself.

“I don’t like this, Polites…” he whispered, “We should have gone when we had the chance! This is madness! Everyone acts as if we are back in Ithaca with no worry in the world!”

“I understand, Odysseus, but still…”

“We should be on our way home now!” Odysseus insisted stubbornly, “And yet…yet we…”

He sighed and extended his hand to Polites. Polites handed him over his goblet and Odysseus took a gulp of wine in thought before returning it to him. He eyed his men again, celebrating, dancing and oftentimes having their way with the women they had acquired or had brought with them from Troy; some were willing, some coldly accepting their fate, some did not seem so. His mind went back to Cassandra again; the way her body was barely covered by her torn clothes; her face disfigured with tears…the Locrian Ajax seeking shelter to the very same place he did the deed…

“I just hope I am wrong about this…” he whispered, “For the first time in my life I wish I am wrong, Polites!”

Yet another round of deafening silence passed between them. Odysseus wanted to scream; to cry out to his men to at least remain sober that night…but he felt helpless; as if nothing he would say would work even if he tried.

“Go to eat, Polites…” he encouraged his friend, “I’ll be fine, really”

“You sure? I can stay if you want”

“Better not” Odysseus said gloomily, “I want to be alone for a while, Polites. Thanks for the fleece…and the wine. I needed it”

“No problem…” Polites said worriedly.

He didn’t like that shadow over Odysseus’s eyes ever since they took Troy. Ever since he was so affected by their own win he was always jumpy and moody however everything seemed to be turning darker in him ever since the final preparations after the celebrations for taking the city. What had happened in Troy that made Odysseus such? What were they doing deep in the city, away from all other eyes that made Odysseus moan and groan in his sleep almost every night? He didn’t dare to ask. He obeyed the order as he stood and left.

Odysseus was left alone again…alone in his thoughts and dark memories. The fall of Troy…the slaughter of innocents…the baby king thrown off the walls…the contempt and judgment…the rape of Cassandra…the yells and cries of Hecuba and finally the most terrifying of all the darkness falling over the eyes of Polyxena…as he held her wrists down; he felt her pulse erasing and finally Hecuba yelling; screaming and almost plucking his eyes out as she was slowly losing her mind in grief… And now there was the bloodlust and the taking of Ismarus that made them all go loose again… He covered his face with his hands as if that could stop the thoughts emerging.

“Fools!” he thought again in despair, “Don’t you see? We need to go home! We need to go back as soon as possible! We must be free from this curse! From war…”

Somehow he knew that was not true. War and battle was inside them. They almost craved for it now. It almost felt like the only reason he was staying was so to see the next battle happening!

“Woe is me!” he thought, “Woe is us! Fools! At least remain sober! We are exposed to danger! We need to go home! They shall come…!”

And yet he couldn’t leave them behind and go. No, he couldn’t leave them. He was afraid for his life in the case of an attack but he couldn’t leave anyone behind! What king would he be to them unless he stuck around till the end? What leader would it make him if he picked up what he could carry and run by himself? He had tried to keep the kings united in Troy. How could he divide his men now? Fear and desire for return were eating his heart. His mind and legs were telling him to run; to go to his ships, gather those who had some sense to leave and go but his heart was divided. He had made a promise to them; that he would try to see them all to his best abilities come back. He once more looked up the mountains, feeling this primal fear a boar feels when going to the waterfront to drink, while smelling the hounds from afar and yet has no choice but to go or else it would die.

“Father Zeus please let me be wrong about this…let me be wrong…”

As the moves and cries and laughter and dance of his men was almost hypnotizing to him, he made that last prayer…

And he didn’t know what was the thing he wished to be wrong in the most; his fear of the possible incoming counterattack or his almost eagerness to face it?

*

He softly twitched and that shook him awake. Had he fallen asleep? He had tried to remain awake but apparently the fatigue of the battle made him fall asleep before the crack of dawn for he didn’t remember seeing the sun coming up. There was a mist coming from the sea and the sky still had that grayish sheen of dawn. The humidity could pierce the bones and yet that wasn’t his problem. One look at his sleepy, tired eyes and saw his men sleeping at the beach; unmoving in their fatigue and their alcohol-induced sleep. The remains of their feast were scattered about the sand and the soil; cooking fires long now extinguished for there was hardly any smoke coming out of the dead embers. He moaned in pain as his body cracked from the uncomfortable position he had fallen asleep in. His hand searched for his spear that always rested by his side. He had no idea what had stirred him awake in the first place, the same much as he didn’t know how he had fallen asleep in the first place. There was this feeling of uneasiness inside him that wouldn’t leave him alone. The birds in the forest had started their morning song, the sea had started sending soft waves with the low tide; the ships were creaking from where they were tied at the shallow waters. Everything seemed quiet. Perhaps too quiet for his tastes! Like the man who got baked by the constant noise of battle, this easiness was foreign to him now; unnatural. And all of the sudden, as his men were barely stirring awake; he heard a distant base note coming from the forest. It seemed like a distant call of a deer to its potential mate. Odysseus jolted to his feet; bronze spear clasped in his hand for dear life. The sound was heard again. His dizzy mind then came back to actual action like the hunter that came back from a long pause finally realizing the sound’s meaning.

“AMBUUUUUUUUSH!” he yelled on top of his lungs rousing everyone

Not fast enough. Too late.

Terrible battle cries and the deafening stampede of feet running down the mountain blocked all his senses as the horde of the Cicones jumped out of the forest and lashed upon his unsuspected comrades, wielding knives and swords and spears. His defenseless comrades or perhaps those who had more than enough to drink the night before barely had time to react when knives slit their throats from side to side; blood gushing out at the color of ruby, before they had even time to get up. Others barely had time to react; grabbing upon their weapons that lay by their sides.

“GUAAAAARDS!” Odysseus called upon those who were already protecting the camp, “EN GARDE! ENSSEMBLE! THEY MUST GEAR UP!”

He himself rushing upon the scene; naked sword in one hand and spear at the other as the very few and tired men that had their armor on rushed to their comrades’ assistance; those men who clumsily tried to gear up; swords or pieces of armor falling from their hands upon the sand and cordons not able to be tied in time. Odysseus feeling his wits escaping him in fear for their lives and his own he rushed upon the enemies; like a shepherd dog rushing upon the pack of wolves in blind rage and driven by the loyalty for its own masters; out of duty to protect the flock, regardless of the heart that pumped blood faster in its chest in worry and fear.

“HURRY!” He was calling in desperation, “HURRY YOU FOOLS!”

And the sound he feared the most was heard; neighing of horses. All color left his face as the strong Thracian horses emerged and their riders on top released arrows that pierced through flesh like butter.

“No!”  The Man of Many Wiles cried out, “DEFENSE! COME TOGETHER!”

The order was heard but moved slowly as the shields joined together, not enough time to prepare the rest of his men. The arrows arrived bearing fire. Odysseus felt his heart sinking as he knew they barely had time to react; the Cicones had used his own trick against him now. Out of all their cries justified. Odysseus knew enough of their language to know that they were chanting; “ISMARUS! ISMARUS!”

“POLITES!” he roared, “TAKE THE MEN YOU CAN AND GO TO THE SHIPS! SAIL AWAY! NOW!”

“What!?” Polites cried out, “That would make it impossible for you to escape”

“I KNOW!” Odysseus roared, “IF THEY BURN THE SHIPS WE’RE DONE FOR! GO! GET THEM OUT OF RANGE! NOW!”

Polites needn’t hear this twice. Rushing upon the fastest and strongest of the men who hadn’t geared up yet, Polites rushed to the sea and they ran into the waves, soon swimming frantically to the ships and climbing the hulls from the ropes. Polites barked orders to them to release the sails and pull the anchors up echoed across the plane from a distance. Several heads turned towards those who were lucky enough to be slow to gear up and now they were on apparent safety upon the ships that slowly yet steadily moved towards the deep.

“TOGETHER!” Odysseus cried in the meantime, slashing with his sword the leg of a rider passing by him

He had to keep his men together; he hoped their spirits wouldn’t leave them upon seeing the ships abandoning port. They could hear Polites’s orders to the oarsmen, frantically going out of range. One or two arrows pierced the black hulls and the men in rushed upon putting the flames off before the tar on the wood were be set aflame. Odysseus grabbed a slave next to him.

“You! Come with me!”

The two of them rushed upon the chariot waiting and the Man much Enduring forced the horses to trot as his slave would take the reins. Spear and naked sword at hand he rushed upon the enemy, cutting the line of defense. However the Cicones knew his trick and they were prepared. He had time to take the lives but of a few riders before an arrow stroke one of the horses and one the wheel of the chariot. The wounded animal neighed pitifully and the other in panic took the chariot down. The slave got crushed under the heavy weight of the animal and the chariot and Odysseus was thrown off. Head buzzing by the stroke and head feeling set aflame, Odysseus struggled back to his feet. His whole body was in pain and he felt a streak of thick blood running down his temple. He moaned in pain but also feeling grateful the sand had taken most of his fall. He struggled to his uneasy feet; adrenaline hammering against his temples he forced himself to take a step and another and another; blood tickling his brow, getting in his eye. He eyed the battlefield; no, the field of slaughter as the riders would cut through some men like butter as they fell on the sand, painting it red with their blood. He saw the slaves being freed and running for cover in the forests (on occasion falling under the swords of his men or the Cicones in the heat of the battle; for no one could tell friend from foe anymore). The laughter of the woman that was his war prize came to his ears. He looked at her; somehow he had found himself close to her this time too.

“I told you!” she said triumphantly from her kneeling position; arms still tied behind her back, “You and your kin shall not escape this!”

For one moment he saw only red.

He grabbed her by the throat in a bruising grip and his sword dripping dark blood of her companions hovered over her head; ready to claim her life, against the promise he extracted from his men not to harm women or children. She faced his fierce gaze bravely even if her eyes were almost popping out of their sockets in her effort to breathe; blood vessels pumping to her forehead. His hand shook for one second; thirsty to take the blood of the person that was mocking him only to push his lips together in defeat and practically throwing the coughing and struggling for breath woman back onto the sand and running to the central field of action once more, standing before his men that were being circled by the riders and the footmen of the Cicones. He noticed a few men had managed to overthrow some enemies from their horses and now rode as well the best they could to even the odds.

“MEN!” Odysseus roared, “WITH ME!”

Trying to organize the chaos and repel the enemy was not easy but the soldiers who knew nothing but war and violence for a decade did hear the order. As they ran to their best of strength, feet digging the sand below; breaths were hissing at their throats and blood and sweat running down their faces the Cephallinians rushed forward. Odysseus felt once more as if he was floating; as if everything were in slow motion around him. Neighing of horses, screams of men, fire and whistling of arrows, clanging of metal… All became a mass in his brain, his own breath hissing to his ears; his own heart beating fast. However this time it wasn’t triumph he felt; it wasn’t like the slaughter of Troy or the conquest of Ismarus; right now it was a battle for survival…under the eyes of their terrified comrades both on and out of the ships. Some of his men lost heart and ran towards the sea in their need to escape and they were met with arrows coming from the Thracian bows. Odysseus stopped hearing anymore…

Soon he had stopped even to feel…

*

The dusk had come; cold and bloody; the sky matching the sand and fire in color. The beach was quiet once more; this time the quietness was heavier than anything else before for it was weighted down by death; the death of their own. Odysseus was gasping for breath; legs almost unable to hold him anymore. He had felt so only once in Troy, no, now it seemed worse for they were running upon the sand which soon was wet with thick blood. Sweat and crusted blood was covering him. He was half-staggering as he walked upwards at the path to meet his men at the top of the beach; bronze sword falling from his hands; bloody upon the very bloody sand. His comrades had driven the ships back and descended to inspect the damages. The beach was full of dead bodies; horses, warriors and slaves. Gasping for breath always Odysseus scanned the perimeter with liquid eyes full of terror. He looked towards the sea. The waves seemed to be licking the blood off the beach like unworldly tongues; a bloody offering to the god Poseidon and his nymphs; but it was not the blood of the cattle they had slaughtered the night prior; it was human blood now… Fires were still burning around, his chariot was completely destroyed and burning too like an unworldly heath along with the two horses that died upon the bloody sand, still tied to their reins. They had fought all day and somehow they had managed to repel the Cicones; killing several of their men. But at what cost… The Man Much Tormented clenched his hands to the point of his nails breaking the skin. Polites had walked a bit closer but he kept his distance as if he feared for his own life too.

“How many men have we lost?”

His voice was hoarse; whispery…inhuman.

“Odysseus…we…”

“HOW MANY!” his sudden yell made them all jump back

“S-Seventy two…” Polites stammered, “A-About 6 pairs of hands from each ship…without counting the slaves…”

The eyes of their king became bottomless; bottomless like the abyss that had claimed the lives of their companions.

“In one day…” he whispered with voice coming straight out of his wide chest, “…We lost almost as many men…as ten years in Troy…”

He was shaking; from top to bottom in primary anger. In an explosion he kicked a fallen helmet; he didn’t know if it was his or not. Screaming on top of his lungs towards the heavens. That anger he accumulated in battle didn’t seem released till that one moment. All the men surviving once more lowered their heads upon that primary anger; that fury that justified his name Furious or Anger Bringer…the rage they all now saw as justified. As the cry subsided he was left out of breath; gasping anew.

“Cursed Troy! Damn you all! Damn you all who fell by my hands! Cursed life! Cursed war!”

“Gather the dead…” he ordered in a whisper

He didn’t need to yell. Not anymore. His throat was aggravated; now it felt like it came from the depths of Hades itself and yet he didn’t need to yell to be heard. Everyone seemed to be able to hear even his thoughts now. Odysseus mopped his bloody temple with his hand.

“We must offer them a funeral. Each ship will call their own so that we will leave on time…”

“What about the barbarians?” Eurylochus dared to ask

“I don’t bloody, care Eurylochus!” Odysseus snarled at him, “Take their arms for all I care and burn them or bury them in a hole! I don’t care to think of it now!”

Taking one moment to calm himself he realized that he couldn’t leave them there. He didn’t know the customs of the Thracians but he couldn’t leave someone unburied.

“Wait…” he said, “We shall burn them too. Give them a funeral. Then their own will see what will become of them. We shall burn them”

“Yes…burn them! Let this all damn place burn!”

Eurylochus nodded. He knew it wasn’t wise to aggravate him further. The bodies were gathered and cleaned the best they could, they separated enemies from friends and poured their offerings to the dead. The arms were taken off the corpses; sad loot at the end of a battle. Odysseus had taken also a ring and a necklace from the dead body of the Queen; he had found her dead among the corpses. Was she killed in the raid by some of his own or did she end her own life? He didn’t know. She was cut loose from her binds but that was all he knew. He would be a liar if he said he felt sad for her passing. In fact he hardly felt anything anymore for her or any of the other unlucky girls that had also fallen into the battle and the commotion; some of them had survived the war of Troy only to be killed by the swords of the Cicones or their arrows upon their escape or taken by them as loot as well.

“How strange…” the king of Cephallinians thought, “We are all the same at war… Who is the civilized and who the uncivilized! Who is the Greek and who is the barbarian?”

And yet he felt nothing. He was almost numb as the cacophony of the voices were yelling different names towards the skies three times each, for the souls to be led to the afterlife… He hardly felt anything at the smell of burning flesh, so familiar to him now, from the funeral pyres set. He hardly felt the cold water as they entered the sea (also to wash the blood of themselves) and climbed to their hollow ships with anything they managed to salvage (and Odysseus congratulated himself for his prudence to add most of the food in the ships beforehand) from the beach and he barely felt a thing as his commanders barked the orders for their departure. His eyes glued upon the beach where the funeral pyres could still be distinguished against the purple-black of the dusk. Odysseus couldn’t care less if the fires burnt the forest behind or not. He felt Polites behind him once more.

“This was my fault, Polites…” he whispered

“My lord?”

“I was arrogant… What did I think? This is war…there is no side that wins or loses… I was foolish to believe I could get us out of here without any loss…”

“Odysseus…”

He was silenced by the hand of his king that raised itself.

“Can you take the first shift, Polites? I can’t stand anymore… I need to sleep…”

“Of course…” his best friend whispered in return, “You stayed up almost all night yesterday…”

“Thank you…”

Tiredly the king of Ithaca dragged his body to the end of the ship. His shoulders felt heavy…as if 72 more souls had hanged themselves from them; added to the already unbearable load of the lives of Troy….and Ismarus…

**

So here we have the first massive loss Odysseus suffered after Troy! 6 men from every ship perish from the attack of the Cicones.

In the Odyssey Odysseus mentioned how his men began a proper feast during their stay at the foot of Ismarus with slaughtering cattle and drinking wine, so that made me wonder how Odysseus would feel and what he would do. What would be his course of though and for one more time I thought the reoccuring memories of war will be swirling in him as well as the gloomy thoughts of his change. And of course some more violent reactions of his because of his state of mind and all.

The battle was once more inspired by Kapnisis music as I have said before to dear @dionysism this time the song "Μάχη στο Μανιάκι" ("Battle on Maniaki") because I love how the theme re-occures but with a sadder turn:

which again gave me this feeling of helplessness as the Greeks are literally trying to push back the enemy that caught them literally in sleep.

The share of spoils and the stripping of one's enemy are both mentioned in the Iliad as tradition. I also make Odysseus send Polites to defend the ships instead. This is so that for startes Polites is a powerful general in his army but also kinda wanted to show some double-standards on Odysseus part that he wants to get his best friend to a safe distance from the slaughter instead of someone else.

And yup for those who didn't get there yet, the helmet scene was inspired from Lord of the Rings! Hehehehe!

The tradition of clling one's name three times was also mentioned in the Odyssey as a form of a funeral ritual.

Forthe funeral I imagined again the soundtrack to its finale part! ^_^

As always my special thanks to:

@cjbolan @smokey07 @adrift-in-thyme @superkooku @marieisnothere12 @dilutedh2so4 @ditoob @tunguszka20 @fangirlofallthefanthings @cr4zy-cycl0n3 @hermesmoly @insomniphic @blueflipflops @venomspecs @simugeuge @tumblingghosts @theyugiohfanartistwritersblog @loco-bird @greek-mythology-lover @leynaeithnea @freetyphoonglitter

Also a very special thanks and a hug to @ellilyre

**

(Afternote)

“No…ahh…no…gods…Troy…run…no…no!”

He was not fully asleep, he was not fully awake as he was mumbling incoherent things in his disturbed sleep. He was constantly moving about in his sleep, constantly fisting his fleece blanket; sweat plastering his curly hair to his forehead.

“Ahh! No…! Argh…..no! Ismarus….Troy…no… Ismarus…Ismarus…”

His back nearly arched under him.

“No! Argh…no…the fire…knife…the knife…no…! Argh! Troy…Ismarus…no!”

The hand on his shoulder was warm and welcoming.

“ARGH!” he half-threw himself in a sitting position

“Odysseus…what’s wrong…are you alright…?”

It was Polites’s voice. That much he could tell but the dizziness of sleep and dream were still in his brain. He was too foggy to think; swinging between sleep and awake to fully comprehend. Polites saw him struggle, as if, to breathe.

“No…no…” he was mumbling half asleep, “No more…the blood… Ismarus…Troy…”

“Odysseus please!”

There was the scent of metal to his lips; someone had brought a goblet to them. It smelt like wine.

“Please drink this…”

“I don’t want it…” Odysseus mumbled half-asleep still, shaking his head, “No…”

“Please! I beg of you…drink it…” Polites begged, “It will help!”

The ruby liquid touched his lips and he subconsciously swallowed. It felt bitter to his tongue; it almost tasted like blood. Apparently fatigue and the cloud of sleep had not left his brain yet for no sooner had he finished the goblet up and he leaned back, his head once again hanging to the side; surrendering himself to Hypnos’s spell once more, however this time there was no moaning or twitching in his sleep. Apart from a tensed expression between his brows he seemed calm.

“What did you give him?” Eurylochus asked concerned

Polites took out his pouch and showed some dust into it.

“I got this medicine from a Scythian merchant at Troy. He advised me to mix it to wine for better sleep.”

“Are you telling me you are using this?”

“How do you think we sleep after Troy?”

“Good point…” Eurylochus had to agree.

His gaze fell upon his sleeping king. The one that a few moments ago was flapping like a fish out of the water, as if struggling with unspeakable things in his sleep.

“What in all hells of Tartarus happened in Troy…?” he mumbled, “We all have regrets from time to time and dream badly but…not like this! What the hell happened to him to break like this…?”

“I believe he saw the Queen Hecuba lose her mind before him. He didn’t allow anyone else in his tent at that time…” Polites whispered, “It must have been hard…”

“Undoubtedly when Zeus or Dionysus sends upon the illness of the mind it is terrifying but still… Is it just that…? Sure the taking of Troy the way it happened could shake anybody… But this? What on earth happened behind closed doors and away from our understanding?”

“I heard…” Polites mumbled, “I heard that there was a sacrifice involved…”

He made a protective sign with his hand as if the words he was about to utter would be enough to curse them all.

“…A human sacrifice that is…”

The word hovered…longer than it should be; something terrible no one dared to ask.

“But…” Eurylochus managed to utter, mouth agape, “That was…before… I heard goddess Artemis demanded it…”

“No…not that… At Troy…and perhaps, they say, the reason he is like that is exactly because the gods were not involved…”

“Are you saying...?”

“No! Absolutely not! I am sure these are just terrible rumors to hurt our king! They always do come up with those!”

“Are you saying Odysseus is incapable of that…?” Eurylochus challenged

“I-…” Polites hesitated, “I don’t know…but there must be an explanation! There always is…”

They remained silent. They could hear Odysseus’s breathing. On occasion his tongue seemed to chant again and again: Troy…Ismarus…Ismarus…

*

“Odysseus…wake up…”

The warm shaking hand on his shoulder drew him out of the world of sleep. He was drowsy and confused but he could remember where he was. They were sailing home again…that should be the only one that mattered. He had given instructions to his men and they would sail away… And yet why could he smell the rain so intensely to his nose? The sky was gray, dangerously turning black. However he knew he had slept all night. He could hardly understand a thing. He blamed the wine Polites watered him the night before but it was not the time to discuss that.

“Did everyone get to have some hours of sleep…?” was the first thing he asked

“Yes” Polites confirmed, “We all had our shifts”

“And you didn’t wake me up?” the king of Ithaca asked as he was helped back to his feet by his friend.

“No” Polites admitted, “We thought you needed sleep. You had stayed awake all night before”

His king chose not to comment on that for now. Instead he leaned on the parapet of the ship. What he saw alarmed him. The sky was dark and the winds were already howling and there was a drizzle rain. There was the sound of distant thunder from afar and the strong, northern wind was already rising more and more, making his eyes tearful with the bitter cold and the drizzle slowly becoming needles that almost felt like piercing the skin. Polites didn’t need to ask when he saw the horror in his eyes. Neither did Eurylochus.

“Captain…” his brother-in-law started

“Men…” Odysseus whispered, “We must prepare ourselves! A storm might be coming!”

“Oh shit…” Eurylochus mumbled

The sails were already snapping at the wind. Odysseus suddenly saw…the winds were pushing them back…away from the sores they wanted to reach… He knew then they were up for another detour.

“Gods…gods have mercy on me! I want to go home! I just want to go home! I shall repent for my sins! Just let me embrace my wife first!”

He looked up and then he drew a breath. He had to collect himself. Perhaps that would be a minor detour. He would have to endure it. He had to; he couldn’t break now that they were so close. He couldn’t let his 72 men die in vain like that!

“MEN!” He yelled the order, “Secure the sails! Prepare for a storm!”

“And gods help us…let us survive this ordeal and escape this thrall of storm to get back home! Athena…Athena I beg of you…”

He took the ring and chain off his pouch, the ones he removed from the queen and threw them into the sea; a silent prayer and a petty offering so that he could at least hope their ships would survive. He was up for another detour… Ithaca had to wait…somehow he knew… He joined the men and kept barking orders as the sailors; expert now in sea and storms, were already gathering the sails and rowing for dear life. Odysseus grabbed the steer himself, making yet another protective sign with his hand, one last prayer to the gods. And yet he could swear that the winds that howled in his ears, making the raindrops whip his face like tiny needles were chanting again and again.

Troy…Troy…Ismarus… Ismarus!

[horrorslvts]

just my type | leo valdez part one

keywords : leo valdez, riordanverse, canon x oc

writer's note : uhh yall ate up the idea of a daughter of hermes oc x leo valdez so mommy will feed u my children... i present to you absolute chaos and comedic relief couple. enjoy.. ship is very inspired by 'just my type - the vamps'

the sound of metal hitting against metal reached the girl's ears, making her eyebrows stiffen a bit as she made her way onto the real crime scene; all those awful sounds came from argo II being made; and although silena de leon, daughter of hermes; beloved half-sister of luke castellan really respected the cause, the sound made her absolutely cringe.

the raven haired girl almost tripped over a few tools that had been abandoned in the middle of the way, making her cuss under her breath and look down at her sneakers to make sure they were not damaged by some stupid leftover hammer. with a little shake of the head silena finally approached the curly haired boy who was, apparently, putting some wooden planks on the side of the boat, and also spaced out enough to not realize she was making her way near. he stood on the third step of a high ladder. "hey bob the builder; don't you want to catch a break sometime?"

leo looked down at the -surprisingly- shorter girl, and flashed a little smile. he lifted his arm to wipe some dust away from his face and nose with his sleeve and shrugged a bit. "if you are asking me to-" he gently threw the hammer on his hand aside, letting it fall on some spare nails, and stepped down from the ladder he was on. "interrupted your sleep again? sorry, i'll make sure to delay an entire quest so you can get a few more hours of naps" leo said with a little chuckle and leaned with one arm on the boat, his hand running through his curls pushing them back making silena watch in awe.

now, silena and leo didn't know each other long. for what it's worth, silena met him and percy through annabeth who she has known forever; given that luke set them up to be friends when sil arrived at the camp for the first time; and they actually did. but gods, ever since meeting this dam son of hephaestus she had been losing her mind. whether it was the back and forth signs and jokes, or the absolute denial that either of them would ever see each other in any way above platonic; something made her heart skip a beat whenever she was close to the tanned boy, that's all she knew; should have seen her face when he first laughed at her spaniard accent; any other person would have taken a punch but he just got lucky with a push.

"yeah, that'd be so sweet of you!"

leo gave her a death stare with a chuckle, knowing damn well she wasn't anywhere near serious.

"so if it isn't that, why pay us a visit?"

silena slowly walked towards the rope ladder of the ship, tugging on it . "just curious to see how the ship is going. very good apparently." she pulled herself up the rope ladder which instantly caused a reaction by the other, making leo rush to bring her down in case she fell.

"whoa whoa you know that's not tied well yet right?!"

sil sat on one of the rope ladder's thin steps, only a couple feet above him and chuckled, swinging her feet to show her winged sneakers. "why do you always forget valdez?"

the curly haired sighed a bit. " if you get all tangled up in the ropes these aren't going to save you-." he looked at her from below with that signature troublemaking smile that brought an aching on her heart.

"i know, but you will."

the boy let his suspenders fall from each shoulder and climbed back up on his ladder, finally reaching her height and being almost face to face with the blue eyed girl; his breath was always cut short when the two were this close. it was funny how after so long of percy and annabeth being sappy now annabeth teased these two like her life depended on it.

"although you're not exactly knight in shining armor material.." silena reached to wipe his forehead from some mechanical oil. " more like greasy armor.."

"you know what's funny, sil?"

"hm?"

"your back is touching my fresh painted planks-."

sil finally realized why her shirt was sticking on her back for the past minute.

"VALDEZ-!"

[secondaxispoint]

joel x reader carving their names into a tree :)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Male!Reader

Warnings: None!

Content: Fluff!

I know this is really short but I hop you enjoy it anyway! Thanks for the request!!!

Carvings

You, Joel, and Ellie were camping out in a seemingly endless forest in between travelling. There wasn’t enough room for the three of you to sleep comfortably in the truck, so you all had to set up camp outside. You sacrificed your sleeping bag for Ellie because she had somehow lost hers in the past few hours. So you sighed and snatched Ellie’s walkman while sitting yourself down by a tree. Joel had thrown down his sleeping back at your feet and joined you by the tree.

You're a candle in the window

On a cold, dark winter's night

And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might

And I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

It's time to bring this ship into the shore

And throw away the oars, forever

You had headphones on and were playing music from the walkman, nodding your head along with the nostalgic music. You had snagged a cassette from Tommy before you had left so you threw that on as you watched over the others. You had just been messing with your knife when Joel snatched your headphones and put them up to his ear. 

“Damn. I haven't heard REO Speedwagon in years.”

He smiled and handed the headphones back to you. You were going to say something but didn’t want to disturb the peaceful silence so you dropped your gaze and fiddled with the handle of your knife. He saddled up next to you and leaned his head back onto the tree and let out a breath.

“You should get some sleep. Don’t worry, I’ll take first watch.”

Still staring at your feet, you heard Joel shuffle and get up to move back towards his sleeping bag. You look up at the sky and get yourself ready for a long night. But before you could pout about it, you hear Joel trudging back over to you. He had his pocket knife in hand when he sat down next to you. But instead of sitting up against the tree, he faced the tree itself. He put his blade up against the tree and slowly stripped a small patch of bark from the trunk.

“What the hell are you doing Joel?”

He didn’t respond but stopped stripping the bark, instead he started chiselling small lines in the barren area. So you turned to face him and his little project to see what he had etched in the tree. It had his initials with a plus sign under them. You laughed at the cheesy gesture and leaned in, carving your own initials under his.

You heard footsteps behind you and when you turned, the both of you saw Ellie with an annoyed expression on her face. She leaned down and inspected the carvings in the tree trunk. She reached into her pocket and took out and flipped open her own knife. She carved a crude EW underneath your own signature.

Once she was seemingly satisfied with her work, she nodded and walked back to her sleeping bag. You and Joel looked at eachother, on the verge of bursting out laughing. Joel calmed himself and kissed the corner of your mouth before he too retreated back to his sleeping bag. You sighed and watched over the two, slowly tracing the carvings in the trunk. You put the headphones back on and continued your nostalgia trip.

'Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fightin' for

And if I have to crawl upon the floor

Come crashing through your door

Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore

I was listening to REO Speedwagon while writing this ✋

[slytherinboysappreciation]

Flower Crown - P. P. x M. R.

A/N: This is my comfort ship and is the softest story I have ever written for Pansy and Mattheo. I may do more with the whole camping idea in the future. Please don’t mind the whole potentially unrealistic location thing 😬 It’s just a cute story. Fic is unedited with no use of Y/N

Written for week 3 of @thatdammchickennugget and @finalgirllx’s Jinxed July challenge, using the picture prompt of flower crowns

CW: literally just fluff, Mattheo is a dick when grumpy, Theo is mentioned to be drinking beer, brief kissing, Mattheo is in love, implied Blaise x Luna, implied Enzo x Astoria, mentioned Theo x Daphne, mentioned Theo x Tracey Davis, Mattheo and Theo play-fight/wrestle

967 words

“Come on, Mattheo,” Pansy calls, smiling. “They’re just flowers.”

“Flowers are girly.” Mattheo doesn’t budge from his seat on the camp chair. He’s smothered in sunscreen, a floppy hat on his head, and sunglasses perched on his nose.

Theo throws a daisy at him. “Don’t be a dick.”

“I’m not! Flowers are girly!” Mattheo gestures to the group of girls in annoyance. “Look at them!”

They’re out for a day trip during the summer, camping in the woods for a weekend. The girls; Astoria, Daphne, Luna, and Tracey Davis, with Pansy as their ringleader; are sitting in a circle weaving flower crowns.

Enzo’s hovering on the edges of the circle, clearly wanting to join but too nervous to do anything but pass them more flowers.

“You’re just jealous they stole your idea.” Theo picks up the thrown daisy and twirls it between his fingers.

Mattheo falls silent, grumpily. It’s not… exactly wrong. He was the one to suggest they make flower crowns in the first place. But his would be way more manly; with thorns and grasses, built to withstand anything.

The ones the girls are making look too delicate and pretty.

Blaise strolls over and watches for a moment. Then he wedges his way in between Luna and Astoria. The girls giggle and scoot over to make room for him.

Mattheo’s mood sours further.

After a moment, Enzo finally gets the courage to join the circle as well. He sits next to Astoria, smiling awkwardly but genuinely as she starts showing him what to do.

“Stupid lovebirds,” Mattheo mutters. Theo gives him a look.

“Mate, you are going to sour the vibes of this whole trip if you don’t chill out.” Theo leans back in his own chair and opens a beer. “Just join them.”

“Easy for you to say,” Mattheo shoots back. “Daphne and Tracey are all over you. They’re like rabid dogs sometimes, I swear.”

Theo chuckles at the comparison. “Your jealousy’s showing. Besides,” he smirks. “I’ve seen the little looks you and Parkinson give each other. You’re pining and you know it.”

“I am NOT—“ The girls look over and Mattheo cuts himself off. The girls giggle. Blaise gives Mattheo a knowing look.

Mattheo scowls and lowers his voice. “I am not pining over Pansy.”

“Sure, mate.” Theo takes a drink of his beer. “Keep telling yourself that until it’s true.”

Mattheo crosses his arms and maybe sulks a little. He’s not pining over her. Pining is soppy and gushy and weak.

Pansy’s pretty. Sharp and witty, yet soft as a Hufflepuff underneath. Maybe her hair shines nicely in the sun and maybe her skin looks good all freckled and warm.

But that doesn’t mean he’s pining. It just means he appreciates her beauty.

As if right on cue, Pansy stands up. And for a moment, Mattheo forgets how to breathe. She looks radiant in the sunlight.

Her tank top shows off her toned shoulders and the lines of her collarbone. Her shorts show off her legs, long and smooth and—

“You’re drooling, mate.” Theo sounds deeply amused.

Mattheo hastily wipes his mouth and straightens up as Pansy approaches. He lifts his sunglasses, squinting from the bright light.

“I made you something.” Pansy smiles at him. “Here.”

She lifts the floppy hat from his head and replaces it with a flower crown.

Mattheo blinks. He can feel his cheeks warming and just knows he’s blushing like a damn fool.

He puts his sunglasses back on to hide the undoubtedly soft way he looks at her. “Uh, thanks, I guess.”

Pansy laughs and toys with a strand of his hair. “I hope it’s not too girly for you.”

“No, no,” Mattheo can’t think straight when she’s gently tugging on his curls like that. “It’s fine. Great. It’s amazing even.”

Pansy’s smile blossoms into something sweet and warm.

If he weren’t already blushing…

A moment passes. Mattheo realizes he’s staring. He coughs and looks away, clearing his throat. “Besides, it’s like a knight’s favor. You know, like princesses would give to their knights before battle?”

Pansy laughs softly, and it feels like molten sunshine in his chest. “Are you my knight then, Sir Mattheo?”

He sits up proudly, adjusting the flower crown on his head. “That I am, princess Pansy.”

He does a little mock bow, careful to keep the flower crown from falling off.

Pansy laughs again. “Then here. An extra favor from your princess.”

Before Mattheo can say some flirty thing back, she’s pulling up his chin and gently planting a kiss on his lips. Just a quick peck, something soft and sweet.

Mattheo really does forget how to breathe.

Pansy pulls back and strokes his cheek with her thumb. Mattheo could melt away and wouldn’t even care. He just gazes up at her.

Theo coughs next to them and the spell breaks. With a laugh, Pansy steals his sunglasses and sets them on her own face. “Thanks for the shades, oh handsome knight.”

Mattheo can’t even be mad, still dazed from the kiss. He watches as she walks back over to the flower crown ring and sits next to Daphne. They whisper to each other for a moment before bursting into giggles.

A smile creeps across Mattheo’s face.

Theo coughs again. “Told you, mate. You’re pining.”

Pining is soft. Gushy. Soppy. And Mattheo feels all three of those things.

He reaches over and punches Theo’s arm. “That’s for ruining my kiss.”

“Ow! Come on, I didn’t ruin it! That was all you!”

The two boys descend into tussling, knocking over the camp chairs as they do. The girls laugh and roll their eyes as they watch.

But even as Mattheo wrestles and tussles with Theo, he can’t help but admit.

Maybe he’s a little more whipped for Pansy than he’d initially thought.

[tmwcs]

Ship your moots and assign them a trope!

let me see....

@nikstrange - love at first sight trope, college au. either all-star b-ball player heeseung (yandere) with ballerina reader, or college bad boy heeseung (still yandere) with ballerina/music study reader. my dear Nik would be very much like MGR/MRE/HHP Y/n, very graceful, realist, rational, and elegant type, dedicated and looking forward to her date with the football team captain....until good ol' Heeseung catches wind of the date and essentially steals her away by being a bit forceful but its all out of love. very similar to the heethan/readen type.

@silcry - enemies/rivals to lovers trope. Silky would be my successful career oriented (dont need a man because she a bad-b) type. and i'd pair her with Jay or heeseung. The male lead would be someone that works for a rival company or corporation and they literally just hate each others guts until some mad, intense, good old fashion smut comes along and it would be glorious. Not sure if i would have the male lead yandere per say, but they definitely be a bit possessive and territorial over her once they fucked worked out their hatred for eachother. ;)

@iamliacamila - forbidden love trope. she probably dont know this but i definitely thought of her alot when i draft the chapters of DT, so i would say the stepbrother trope (oh girl.....i'm sorry...i think? lol its good but also....damn.....two heeseungs? can you take that?) yeah stepbrother tropes. either one heeseung stepbrother or make it the heebro twins, either way, my dear camila would be my wise, hardworking and beautiful y/n who ends up attracting her newly acquired stepbrother (heeseung....and yes he would be yandere) and....i would imagine it where the moment heeseung would strike....would be at a family camping trip, where due to the shortage of tents, step siblings have to share a tent and......yandere step-brother heeseung be taking the opportunity to make her his...if you know,......you know.

@csmicvrse - forbidden love/criminal love trope. oh....my girl...idk why....but i'd have her with a trope that's very similar to the TO series. criminal heeseung (yandere) and my quiet and innocent baby girl, running a floral shop or a small boutique and catches the eye of yandere heeseung....who takes her (in the usual yandere fashion) and straight up keeps her locked away but takes suuuuuuuuch good care of her. like literally, gives her everything she wants. you'll see, future TO chapters you're going to get a hint of it.

@heeshees - childhood lovers trope. i just picture her being that sweet and beautiful girl next door that is always helpful. She befriends nerdy HS and they become really good friends....but then she had to move away. they keep in touch through email and two years later after they start college, they find out that they are going to attend the same university. when they finally meet to catch up...nerdy HS is not so....nerdy.....and he's yandere...for her.....has been for a long time. and while she may be dazzling her smile and just thinking he's being such a cordial friend, HS be planning behind closed doors to have her all to himself. (i love a good dark romance...dont you?)

@moonmoongi - Folklore love trope. Ever since Robin Hood, i can't get her out of the thought of having her as the princess or maiden that is saved by the dashing male lead....sort of a vigilante type, who discovers our girl and (yes....you guessed it) goes yandere for her, but a soft yandere. he lavishes her with gifts and takes her up on high buildings to stargaze. he'd give her the world....but watch out if you talk, look, or try to hurt her...Robin Hood or vigilante HS would be a brutal yandere.

@lisaaannna - damsel in distress love trope. she is so gentle and kind, but people would try and take her for granted....until heeseung or niki, comes around and i'd make them a mafia leader, they would be yandere for her and protect her.....by stealing her away. but, as usual, spoil her....to no ends. nobody can mess with her because HS or Niki would have connections and eyes everywhere. let someone try and mess with her....yo....you all know what those mafia leaders are capable of.

@vampiregirl215 - Dark fantasy/demonic love trope. Yeah...ever since SE7EN.....my girl is literally going to be the y/n for that type of trope. She be the mortal princess who loved and secretly wedded the demon prince heeseung. when a mortal prince tries to get sneaky by corrupting her father, the king, and convincing him to marrying her off so the prince could have her, demonic heeseung unleashes his wrath and gets her back. this would be one where i would make heeseung AND the villain both yandere for her, and that's what makes it interesting and the villain more dangerous.

@talesofyuan - past lives love trope. i'd pair her with kei and yo....this man be so yandere for her. they were lovers in their previous lives hundreds of years ago. reborn and living in today's world, they are strangers that meet, and their souls connect instantly and kei be having this instinctive urge to keep her. he'd be that yandere to that would be sooooo brutal but very sexy at the same time. sis is going to look at this and probably give me the bombastic side eye later lol. she knows i love her though.

[stormxpadme]

Whumptober 2024 No. 29 - Fatigue, Burnout & "Who said you could rest?"

06/04/2018

Raven couldn't suppress a sigh of relief when the last of her followers had left the meeting room and she had a few minutes to herself for the first time in days. With a lazy snap of her fingers, she deactivated the cool neon light on the ceiling before opening the window blinds, the usual precaution in all rooms of this base, so that not even the smallest ray of light from Watergate could attract the attention of ships passing in the distance. The view of the open sea, the high waves slapping against the facility's massive stilts, almost had her close the protective metal panels again immediately.

God, how she hated it out here. As much as she also despised having to deal with these smelly primitives of normal people, by now, she was almost looking forward to flying back to Washington every time. The Oval Office at least didn't make her claustrophobic. It was a good thing that her time in the sewers back then had prepared her for her current accommodations. Living underground, she was being used to. And if everything finally went as planned for a change, the time of hiding would soon be over anyway. Some days it was hard to wait for that, however. As much as Raven hated to admit even to herself ... After all these years of leading not only her own little army but this whole damn country? On some evenings, even someone who could modify their own cells into a condition of reloaded energy if necessary, could feel exhaustion trying to take a toll on her, at least mentally. And the only person she had ever been close enough to, for them to give back her usually steeled soul the new necessary motivation in such rare vulnerable moments ... Getting that woman back into her life, she was still no closer to than she'd been a year ago, when she'd last visited the location of the necessary device to fulfill such yearnings. In this regard, Raven had no choice but to continue to be patient, and to keep on rationing her fluctuating strength levels until then. If as a first goal, she wanted to be sure of one hundred percent success with her currently most important invention, she couldn't delay the whole thing forever.

And if everything went well with that, she would have enough time afterward to devote herself to her even more important, very personal endeavor.

The right people to carry out the project that was her primary focus at the moment, she had found over the years; the emergency meeting with Everett a minute ago had once again proved that. The selection process had been lengthy, but by now, Raven was now quite confident about this small group of her most trusted allies. This was no longer a provisional arrangement, as it had been in Magneto's time. These people were all driven by hatred and revenge, had the guts to drill the rest of Raven's fighters, and the necessary gifts to keep their plans hidden from the world for as long as necessary.

That now something as mundane as an artificially created virus, of all things, was interfering with said plans, that seemed to have wiped out an entire damn mutant camp not too long ago, wasn’t something Raven was particularly happy about, but she couldn't just ignore it. Not that she usually would have let herself be affected by the deaths of a few weak mutant children so deeply, but in this case, the Brotherhood was in danger, so she had to act. When she'd taken over the group after Erik's disappearance, she'd sworn to protect it at all costs. To continue the dream of the man who'd been her part-time lover back then. In this case, that meant a trip to Alaska. She'd invested too much time, money, effort, and work in Watergate to possibly lose its residents to the primitive attack of a few fanatical humans. Not right before the first of her sought triumphs. With regard to the big picture, this matter was just as unimportant as Raven's unsuccessful search for a new double, but it was getting on her nerves even more, which was a remarkable achievement in itself. It was half-time until the next presidential election, and so far the selection of potential candidates for this so crucial position of doing Raven's political job for her under her strict guidance, whenever she couldn’t, was extremely meager. At least Raven could hold on to the justified hope these days that in two years' time, diplomacy might no longer be necessary anyway.

One of Erik's most important legacies had finally been completed in the last few weeks, and the first tests had been successful. If everyone here did their job and finished the final work on the shield device, Raven might only have a few days to soldier through before she'd move into a whole new headquarters. A very special one.

But first, this matter north had to be taken care of, no matter how little drive she had in this regard; Everett and her as about so many things, agreed about that, too. Having a backup plan had become a necessity in the course of her career, and this distasteful tragedy of New York II presented a perfect opportunity for that. If Raven's people would work quickly enough, they might be able to solve the case before the usual idealist groups could, who were undoubtedly already frothing at the mouth in their search for the people responsible. That would have meant another positive publicity boost for the Brotherhood in the most important political and media circles. As long as you hadn't won yet, you had to lull the peasants into a false sense of security. Besides, these insects in Westchester hadn't meddled with the Brotherhood's affairs in a long time. Raven wanted to make sure it would stay that way. In the shape of a possible hostile encounter, this mission might give her people an opportunity, too, to see how capable the X-Men's current team and their potential successors were.

Threatening exhaustion or not: That was one of the last things Raven actually had to be certain about before she could think of actually using her latest weapon. Underestimating this plague, that was one of the few mistakes Erik and she had made far too often towards the end. Raven herself had a few important meetings with her other staff this week though, and Senate votes that required her personal attention. She couldn't fly to New York II personally.

She had to send Toad and Pyro. Toad wasn't an issue; that guy had always done everything he was told, as long as the pay was right. But Pyro, even after almost 20 years, was still unpredictable.

Reluctantly, Raven tore herself away from the pleasant silence and took the elevator up to the landing pad, where her least favorite employee who unfortunately was also one of the most powerful ones was busy with preparations at the helicopter. “You know the rules.” She impatiently brushed a few of the heavy raindrops off her forehead and leaned against the unadorned gray machine, looking Pyro straight in the eye. ”Melt, examine, take with you what we need. If they show up, fire a broadside and get out of there. We need information, not corpses.”

“You're getting sentimental, Mystique.” Pyro let out a dry laugh and turned away, continuing to load equipment into the cargo hold as if she wasn't even there. His shoulder-length dark blonde hair was dripping wet, appearing almost as jet black as the shadows under his eyes in the shadows of the many machines around them. The boy, too, hadn't gotten much sleep in the last few weeks, since Toad had been constantly putting him to work on the Field. And Pyro's mood always got even worse than it had been anyway since he'd been a teenager when he didn’t get his beauty sleep. “I hear Magneto talking. But you're the boss.”

“Exactly.” Raven yanked him roughly around by the arm and growled a warning when Pyro's fingertips instinctively moved to the trigger of one of the flame throwers on his wrist. This subject, they'd actually already clarified shortly after Erik's disappearance. Thanks to a few scars from Raven's hands, Pyro should indeed know by now who was in charge here. “If you feel the need to slaughter someone, find yourself some normal humans to play with. We don't kill mutants unless we're attacked or it's absolutely unavoidable.”

“Don't get your non-existent panties in a knot.” Pyro's smile grew increasingly vicious. He knew full well how little Raven liked these rules herself, which she was only following because of someone who was no longer around. And that there were a couple of exceptions anyway who should never fall into Raven's hands regardless of the honor of Erik's memory. ”When was the last time I disobeyed one of your orders? I don't give up as easily as all these other losers you've driven into burnout already, do you still not realize that? I'm still here despite us keeping on falling on our faces, because the Brotherhood is the only group with a real chance of reshaping this world. And I want to be there when that happens.”

“Correct again.” That was all Raven needed to hear for the moment. She nodded sharply inside the building when Pyro made a move to get comfortable in the vehicle hold. "Who said you could rest? You'll be in charge tomorrow, so prepare your team the fuck yourself. I want you out of here before sunrise. And if you're so keen on dragging your bed bunny along, don't forget the thermal jackets. I'm not interested in anyone freezing any vital parts of while I still need them.”

She didn't like it one bit that Jedda had set her mind on going on her first mission tomorrow of all times. Raven would much rather have liked to lock the girl in her quarters until she'd finally get what she wanted from her. But not only did the girl have to dig said information out of her psychopathic subconsciousness herself first, she also had to give it up voluntarily then, unless Raven might finally find a well-trained telepath who wanted to work for her. So being cooperative was inevitable.

Let Pyro play with that young stupid thing a bit if it helped his ego, and allow the girl by his side to gain a little badly needed close combat experience. He was Raven's assurance that the girl wouldn’t get herself killed. Pyro knew exactly what would happen to him if the Phantom's rebellious daughter earned as much as a scratch. Her temporary second in command casually ignored that lecture, too, but at least he followed the other one, closing the helicopter hatch and heading back inside. “But nobody said we had to go easy on them, right?”

Raven allowed herself a smile. In some regard, the boy was a fast learner after all. Maybe for the moment that was enough of the reassurance that she needed that everything was going as she'd needed it too even in these sparse moments when it felt that she was reaching her limits. ”You got that right, too.”

*******************************************************************************

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

[enigmatist17]

Haven't written these absolute nerds in forever :)

---

He knew he'd found The One when he arrived on Eden-6.

It had hit Alistair Hammerlock when he'd stepped off the small ship he'd called home for some time, the hunter barely having a moment to look around the swampy planet before a tingle ran up his spine. A quick look around showed that he was still alone on his makeshift landing spot, and after a moment, he shrugged and set about making camp. That phantom tingle kept lingering as Hammerlock explored the planet, the hunter growing frustrated the longer this sort of "game" went on. Sometimes he felt it near one of the many bars that littered places closer to civilization, other times he felt it near waterfalls out in the middle of nowhere, the feeling teasing as it was addicting. When he was summoned to the Jakobs estate once it became known the legendary Alistair Hammerlock was on Eden-6, the tingle became a full on electric thrum.

What in the heavens was causing this?!

His answer came in the form of Wainwright Jakobs.

Alistair had been the perfect guest as the current CEO of the company droned on about the estate and its origins. To be truthful, it was rather dull, but his thoughts vanished when they turned a corner, and Hammerlock ran into a man who had his nose in a book with a soft grunt.

"Ah, just the man I was lookin' fer! This here is my son Wainwright, the reason I actually invited ya here for." Montgomery droned on, words going unheard as the hunter stares at the shorter man, who seemed just as enraptured by the hunter. That cursed feeling had finally stopped the moment they had collided, and if Hammerlock was a betting man, it would mean he had finally found his other half.

What a strange notion.

Due to his family and how their name was like a poison akin to the likes of Handsome Jack, Alistair had given up hope on his soulmate. No one would want to be shackled to someone with his past, with his penchant for danger and long stretches of time out on the hunt. Yet, instead of revulsion or any other negative look he'd always imagined on the face of his other half, Wainwright looked...curious. He doesn't get much of a chance to do anything when a rough pat on the shoulder from the elder Jakobs jars both men from their stare off, Alistair pulled away from Wainwright and further into the manor.

He misses the fact that Wainwright is still watching when they head away and further into the home, book on the floor forgotten.

Neither man has much of a chance to speak until they're paired up and sent off on a small hunting expedition, Wainwright kicking up a right fuss while an amused Hammerlock watches in the background.

"Now I don't get why I've got ta go on this damned huntin' party!"

"We're bein' gracious hosts, and since you decided not ta come along the last set, yer goin' on this one."

"We can host Mr. Hammerlock in this manor just fine, yer just tryin' to get rid of me."

"Oh hush, like any saurian would eat you anyways, ol' piece of leather."

"They might be stubborn, but you've got them beat by a country mile."

"Gentlemen, if we are to make good time, we must begin our trip soon." Alistair finally cut in, not entirely sure if the barbs being thrown around were truly in an attempt to cause pain. Montgomery seemed to be more amused than anything as Wainwright left the room with a quiet grumble, Alistair fairly certain he heard some rather colorful curses as the other trailed out of the room.

"Wainwright is just blowin' hot air, the damned boy would rather be readin' in the study than anything else."

"If you say so."

---

Wainwright seemed to loosen up when he and Alistair hopped into a provided vehicle, clearly a bit uncomfortable with going out deep into the wilderness. However, once they had driven away from the massive manor and headed past the security gates, he finally eyed the hunter with that same curiosity from the day previous.

"So, what brings a big huntin' legend like yerself down to Eden-6?" It was an easy question to start with, the manufacturer grabbing onto a handle when Hammerlock makes a sharp turn.

"I'd heard the wildlife here is quite a challenge, and I do so enjoy them." The hunter grinned, pulling up his ECHO to check they were still going the right way despite still driving at maximum speed. "I was not expecting to have been seen so quickly, but I doubt many people of my particular reputation visit your planet."

"Not as such, no." Hammerlock must have finally realized that speed was not that necessary as he finally let off the gas somewhat, the greenery no longer a blur as they headed to wherever they were going. For a while, they drove in a silence that was, at the start, awkward but soon companionable as Wainwright began to point out various beasts and the sorts of places they liked to hide. Hammerlock pulled over beside a waterfall, and when dusk blanketed the planet, the native pointed out that the massive tree beside the water would be the best place to set up camp for the evening.

"We're awful close to some saurian nestin' sites, so sleepin' on the ground ain't it."

"For someone who seemed displeased for the hunt, you've been quite informative." Hammerlock made sure they covered the vehicle up with large leaves before hauling their packs out of the trunk, turning to toss it to Wainwright, only to find the man heading for the large pool of water. "Where are you going?"

"Best we get cleaned up down here before we head up." The Jakobs shed his jacket when he was a few feet from the water, clearly not minding that he had company. "C'mon, the water is nice and cool too."

"Uh, as you wish." It wasn't the first time Hammerlock had bathed in close quarters with other people, having lived with the Crimson Raiders on a planet that barely had water on the best of days. Not once had his eye strayed in those times, yet for some reason, he couldn't stop himself from looking over at Wainwright as they both quickly washed off the sticky humidity from their skin. Something within him was telling Hammerlock to go over, to touch the deeply tanned skin he caught flashes of when the southern man stepped under the outer part of the waterfall.

It was quite infuriating.

However, they both finished cleaning off and quickly dressed as the night grew ever closer, the southerner finding a small alcove about ten feet off the ground for them to spend the night in. It was a little bit of a squeeze, but Hammerlock had slept in worse, merely starting a small fire to cook their dinner as the forest fell into complete darkness.

"I must say, this planet is absolutely stunning."

"That's a rare compliment." Wainwright glanced up from the book he'd brought along, watching Hammerlock follow what had to be a familiar ritual from his previous hunts. "Most people say it's a pass, and that the name is a misnomer."

"Oh it is, but every world has its own beauty." The hunter laughed, setting his hat aside to dab at some sweat on his brow. "The humidity could be forgone, however."

"If I could change somethin', it'd be that." He agreed, his book forgotten as he watched the hunter cook.

Ever since he'd run into the taller man, Wainwright had been holding back his absolute glee at finding his One.

In his youth, Wainwright never gave the thought of a soulmate much attention. He focused far more on being reckless and traveling until he settled down rather quickly. Being the heir to one of the major gun corporations, however, made him a target, and once he found that being at home wasn't the worst thing half the time, Wainwright found his contentment in a good book and a glass of whisky. As the years ticked by and age settled on his body, Wainwright thought about settling down, hoping that maybe his other half might show up on his usual yearly PR tours. Instead, the damned man showed up in his house, of all things, being dragged around by his father and looking quite bored with the tour that could last up to hours. However, despite knowing that Hammerlock must have felt that rush of energy when they touched, he seemed...well, Wainwright wasn't sure, maybe surprised? Caged?

Well, Wainwright was not the most patient man.

He struck after they had eaten one of Hammerlock's vacuum-packed meals and cleaned up, the fire casting a cozy light in their alcove as the distant noises of wildlife filled the air.

"You mind if I ask ya somethin'?" Hammerlock was sitting across from him fiddling with his sniper rifle, practiced hands disassembling and cleaning the parts one by one.

"By all means." Glancing up, Wainwright found himself temporarily transfixed by the soft blue glow of Hammerlock's mechanical eye, internally wincing at not having noticed the prosthetic beforehand. "Is something the matter?"

"Sorry, didn't realize you've a mechanical eye 'till just now." Hammerlock clearly wasn't expecting that answer, lips twitching up in an amused smirk.

"Usually, most ask what happened; I don't believe I've met someone who didn't notice at first glance."

"Well, I blame my own blasted eye then." Wainwright shook his head, setting his book aside.

"Oh?" Leaning over his gun, Hammerlock looked at the younger Jakobs, noting that both eyes seemed organic. He was about to say something when he noticed that Wainwright's left eye was not quite focused on the hunter, the pupil slightly enlarged. "I was wondering why you brought along a shotgun on a hunting trip."

"Figure I can make a right distraction if needed." He grinned, his beloved shotgun just within reach. "Works fine for me."

"Worry not, I shall not let any beast close enough for you to need use of your weapon." Neither man could ignore the protective tone that laced the simple statement, and the hunter awkwardly looked down at his gun. "Sorry, I-"

"What's there ta be sorry for? Don't think you're that blind to see what's goin' on, pardon the pun." Wainwright grinned as Hammerlock couldn't stop the snort that escaped him, that soft blue light flickering back up to fixate on him. "Didn' think I'd meet ya in my own home."

"Neither did I, all things considered." It's the first time the man has looked almost bashful, fiddling with the scope in his hands and looking away from the Jakobs' gaze. "Quite frankly, I never expected to find you at all, although the irony of finding you on a planet I've always wanted to hunt on is not lost, rest assured."

"Aw, I'm flattered." The joke doesn't seem to land with the other, and for a few minutes, they sit together as the fire crackles and jabbers howl in the distance. "Mind tellin' me why you're bracin' for somethin'?"

"I..." Nothing in his grand vocabulary seemed to be the proper word for what Hammerlock wanted to convey, a veritable first. "I am a Hammerlock."

"...yes?" Wainwright adjusts his posture as he keeps his gaze on the fire, giving Hammerlock as much room as they had, being inside a tree and all.

"My family name is poison to most, and while I've not been in their company for many years, it follows like a plague. It would most likely be in your health and my limited supply of sanity if I simply just...maintain my solitude." It felt like a skag was disemboweling Alistair as he carefully spoke the words he'd prepared many years ago, but it truly would be for the best if he kept the Hammerlock name from disinfecting something he'd only dared to dream of.

He was not expecting Wainwright to start laughing, looking up at the Jakobs in pure surprise. True, he wasn't sure how his soulmate was going to react, but the laughter that seemed to shake his entire body was not it.

"Why now that is just the stupidest excuse I ever did hear!" Wainwright finally wheezed out when the laughter passed, the amusement turning to fury now. "You're goin' to throw away this because of your damned family? Like hell you will!"

"It's truly for the best!" Alistair retorted, quickly moving his disassembled rifle aside. "If not that, surely you are aware that I take on legendary beasts that can, and have in the past, killed me! I cannot inflict that life on someone else!"

"Well it ain't your decision, I ain't some weak little fling you're gonna toss aside."

"You are being too stubborn for your own good!"

"Damn right I am." With that, Wainwright got onto his knees, and dragged Hammerlock into a kiss before either of them could regret it. Not that they would, the moment they connected, it was like the entire universe just ceased to exist save for each other. The Southerner had maybe a few seconds before Hammerlock was pressing him back against the wall of their alcove, kissing him like he would drown without the contact, not that he damn well minded. The hunter was a damn attractive man and owned it with a grace hardly seen in the galaxy, grinning like a giddy teen when they both eventually needed air. "See? Not goin' anywhere."

"No." The poor guy seemed too stunned to speak, and the smile on his face was something that Wainwright was already treasuring.

"Saurian got your tongue, darlin?"

"Yes?" The manufacturer chuckled and gently pushed the taller man back, the movement seeming to reboot his brain as he scurried back with a blush. "A-Apologies."

"No need, I enjoyed that."

"I did as well."

With that, Eden-6 became less of a prime hunting spot and more of a prospective home, a thought that made Alistair's head spin. True, he'd lived on Pandora ever since his father had used the planet as a punishment turned unexpected salvation, and he'd become fond of the place when he thought of friends and allies. Yet now it failed to hold a candle to this swamp-esque planet with its cursed humidity, all for a man with a nasty temper and charm that could turn a bandit sane he'd met only a day previous.

Not the strangest thing to ever happen to him, but easily the best.

[second-axis-point]

Pairing: Joel Miller x Male!Reader

Warnings: None!

Content: Fluff!

I know this is really short but I hop you enjoy it anyway! Thanks for the request!!!

Carvings

You, Joel, and Ellie were camping out in a seemingly endless forest in between travelling. There wasn’t enough room for the three of you to sleep comfortably in the truck, so you all had to set up camp outside. You sacrificed your sleeping bag for Ellie because she had somehow lost hers in the past few hours. So you sighed and snatched Ellie’s walkman while sitting yourself down by a tree. Joel had thrown down his sleeping back at your feet and joined you by the tree.

You're a candle in the window

On a cold, dark winter's night

And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might

And I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

It's time to bring this ship into the shore

And throw away the oars, forever

You had headphones on and were playing music from the walkman, nodding your head along with the nostalgic music. You had snagged a cassette from Tommy before you had left so you threw that on as you watched over the others. You had just been messing with your knife when Joel snatched your headphones and put them up to his ear. 

“Damn. I haven't heard REO Speedwagon in years.”

He smiled and handed the headphones back to you. You were going to say something but didn’t want to disturb the peaceful silence so you dropped your gaze and fiddled with the handle of your knife. He saddled up next to you and leaned his head back onto the tree and let out a breath.

“You should get some sleep. Don’t worry, I’ll take first watch.”

Still staring at your feet, you heard Joel shuffle and get up to move back towards his sleeping bag. You look up at the sky and get yourself ready for a long night. But before you could pout about it, you hear Joel trudging back over to you. He had his pocket knife in hand when he sat down next to you. But instead of sitting up against the tree, he faced the tree itself. He put his blade up against the tree and slowly stripped a small patch of bark from the trunk.

“What the hell are you doing Joel?”

He didn’t respond but stopped stripping the bark, instead he started chiselling small lines in the barren area. So you turned to face him and his little project to see what he had etched in the tree. It had his initials with a plus sign under them. You laughed at the cheesy gesture and leaned in, carving your own initials under his.

You heard footsteps behind you and when you turned, the both of you saw Ellie with an annoyed expression on her face. She leaned down and inspected the carvings in the tree trunk. She reached into her pocket and took out and flipped open her own knife. She carved a crude EW underneath your own signature.

Once she was seemingly satisfied with her work, she nodded and walked back to her sleeping bag. You and Joel looked at eachother, on the verge of bursting out laughing. Joel calmed himself and kissed the corner of your mouth before he too retreated back to his sleeping bag. You sighed and watched over the two, slowly tracing the carvings in the trunk. You put the headphones back on and continued your nostalgia trip.

'Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fightin' for

And if I have to crawl upon the floor

Come crashing through your door

Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore

I was listening to REO Speedwagon while writing this ✋

[bagog]

N7 Month, 2023 - Day 13: Varren

I secretly wanted to write about Ratch. But Urz lore is pretty fun too.

++

Commander Shepard,

You probably don’t remember me, but I know you remember that Graal Spike Thrower I sold you in the Urdnot Camp on Tuchanka couple of years back! You know, the one with the over-clocked field ejector? Hope you’re still getting good use out of that thing—bought a trip to the Citadel with the profit from that byrby (you still got a good deal, Commander, but over-clocks like that aren’t cheap, you know?).

Anyway, that’s why I’m writing. Not about the Spike Thrower, about the Citadel. About Urz. That funny-colored varren that took a shine to you outside my shop? Followed you around the whole damn camp whenever you came to visit the chief? Fought like a demon in the pits, too.

So I took Urz to the Citadel with me, mascot for the shop, I figure. Probably not a big problem for a bigshot like you to house a pet on the Citadel, but I had a helluva time finding a varren-friendly apartment. Then, the damn thing, second week I’m there, Urz runs off down an alley while I’m running my shop. Was in the middle of a big sale, couldn’t chase him. Figured he’d be back. Haven’t seen him since, though.

Back on Tuchanka now: weapon sales are booming. But yeah, just writing to let you know not to expect to see Urz next time you’re on Tuchanka. But if you happen to see a funny-colored varren run up to you on the Citadel that looks a little familiar, might be our ol’ pal Urz. If you don’t want him, drop me a line. I think I’ve got the credits to get him shipped back here. Would be nice to have my mascot back again.

Anyway, know it’s a million to one shot, but don’t look at me, you’re the miracle worker.

-Ratch

[mint-ty]

I keep thinking what would be the most unhinged Bojere AUs, since it seems they do work in every universe..

some of my ideas:

I wanted to say omegaverse but both Jere and Bojan already attract every damn man so it's not even AU at this point

Politics AU? Slovenian diplomat has to move to Finland to create some new IR connections, but this weird bowlcut Vantaa mayor keeps taking him for drinks and sauna and Bojan has to decide if this is still business or something more.

Pirate AU: obviously Bojan would be some royal dude that has his ship pirated by Käärijä's crew. In captivity he learns that Jere is really a very nice guy who just doesn't believe in government (they become pirates together).

Amnesia AU: while on a camping trip JO find a tiny guy who can't remember anything and can barely speak English, and they take care of him and try to help him remember what had happened. Bojan obviously falls in love but he's conflicted because he doesn't know much about this guy, but every time he looks at Bojan with wide blue trusting eyes he just folds 😭

[alicelioncourt]

Above the camp stretched an endless dark sky, dotted with small white points. The fire quietly crackled with dying branches, which made the Cleric flinch from time to time from the sounds. After last night, it was still worth putting a collar with a bell on the pale elf, just for not to worry about future bites from the vampire spawn.

Only it wasn’t just him and the potential loss of blood. Each of her new acquaintances was full of interest and possible danger. In their own way. She had to be careful with them and, if something happens, protect the artifact at the cost of her life.

But Shadowheart tried to focus a little on other thoughts: she was haunted by dreams of a little girl being led into the unknown by strangers. Scraps of these dreams could not form a single complete picture in her head. Was it a play of imagination or events that actually happened a long time ago? She did not know. She didn't remember. It's as if all her memory has been gutted, and now something from outside is trying to manipulate her and her faith in Shar. This is definitely the work of a damned parasite. But she shouldn't give up. To give - means to show weakness.

"I am loyal only to my Lady Shar."

Despite the occasional pain in her arm, Shadowheart still felt the favor of the Mistress of the Night; She firmly convinced herself that this was her parting words, and not punishment for wrongdoing. The Goddess Shar hears her pleases and she will not allow her Daughter of Darkness to follow the path of heretics.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. The makeshift pillow from her travel bag that night pressed unpleasantly on the back of her head and caused discomfort. Having thrown away all heavy thoughts, the Cleric opened her eyes and looked at the sky. Absolutely nothing has changed. There is still a lot of time until dawn.

Today's resting place was not one of the best of their entire trip. But on the other hand, it is not the worst. After the Illithid ship, any secluded corner of the forest will seem the holiest and dearest in the world.

Gale was on watch this night. But even because of insomnia, Shadowheart will not distract him with empty talk just to pass the time. It's better to try to sleep and gain strength.

They still have a long journey ahead: she must deliver a mysterious artifact to the Mother Superior. And she will fulfill her duty to the goddess Shar: to become a Dark Justicar is her secret dream, for which she is ready to do anything. For her loyalty to Shar, she earned this honorary title.

And her memory… Her memory will return as soon as the Cleric completes her mission.

[shallyne]

SJM Crackshipmonth: Fluff

Between Tents and Mosquitoes

Day nineteen of @sjmcrackshipmonth and today's ship is Feyre x Jurian.

Words: 830

TW: none

Feyre and Jurian go on a little camping trip

With a muttered curse, Feyre threw away the damn poles of the tent and flopped on the hard ground, cursing again. She watched videos about tents at home, before they left and even printed instructions for herself but she still managed to do something wrong. She groaned up at the afternoon sky, praying that her boyfriend wouldn't come back soon to see her like this.

Of course her prayer was ignored as she heard the heavy footsteps of Jurian and soon, he stood beside her, looking down at her. He knew this exact expression like she knew the backside of her hand. That asshole suppressed a laugh, amusement written on his face. "The whole forest could hear you cursing." he chuckled, shaking his head. "You scared the animals. Are you now finally accepting my help?"

Feyre narrowed her eyes and jumped up and pushed him to the side. "No." she said, gathering the poles that she had thrown away. She only needed to calm down and try again. Reading through her instructions again, she was fairly confident that the fourth try would be the lucky one. Now she would have no problems at all.

"You're so stubborn." Jurian said behind her, with no trace of judgment. "You know you don't have to be independent all the time."

As Feyre clicked the poles together, she held back the urge to roll her eyes. "I know how this is going to end. This is supposed to be a relaxing weekend, I will not talk about my mother. Or father. Or my sisters."

Jurian sighed, his shoes clicking on the ground as he, no doubt, bounced his knee up and down. Feyre knew this was a tic of his that he did when he was nervous or frustrated. Knowing that it couldn't be the former, Feyre almost snapped at him for being frustrated with her but…honestly, she got it. Feyre knew that she was carrying baggage from her childhood and she easily got irritated when someone tried to talk with her about it. Of all people, Jurian was the only person, besides Mor, that Feyre had the least problems with talking openly about it. But that didn't mean she didn't have any problems at all. Depending on the day, Feyre had a hard time opening up but she knew Jurian felt the same about his own childhood, that's why he was so understanding with her.

"You don't look relaxed at all." Jurian pointed out. Hissing at a very stubborn pole, Feyre turned around and slumped her shoulders.

"Better?"

"Not at all." Jurian replied, grinning. "Just let me help. I know you can do it but it will be quicker."

She looked down at the tent, then at Jurian, "Fine." she said. "Help."

Jurian smiled, wiping his hands on his pants and walked over to Feyre. "Take this." he told her, pressing the end of the pole in Feyre's hands and started weaving it through the sleeve of the tent. He did the same on the side and with the other, shorter, poles. "You need to slowly raise this pole," he told her, pointing to the middle one. Feyre nodded and did as he instructed. As she held, Jurian walked around the tent and fastened the tent to the ground, they repeated that a few times until the tent stood all on its own.

"You're good at this." Feyre said.

Jurian winked at her, "I already did this once or twice."

"Of course," she rolled her eyes. "You could have started with that little piece of information."

He laughed, gathering the rainfly and draped it atop the tent. "I thought the picture of me and my father told you enough."

Feyre huffed, securing the rainfly on the back of the tent, Jurian doing the same on the front. "I know you were already camping but I didn't know you set up a tent on your own."

"I didn't," he replied. "But I helped my father." Together, they staked the remaining edges of the tent and secured the ropes. "Look, we did amazing!"

"We did." Feyre agreed, linking her arm with Jurian’s. "But I could have done it alone."

"I don't doubt it but I'd rather we finish this before nightfall," he said. Feyre slapped his arm, barely containing her smile. "Because I wanna show you something."

"What?" Feyre asked.

"You'll see."

They both put their backpacks in the tent and closed it. Jurian took Feyre's hand as they followed an overgrown dort path until they reached a cliff. Feyre gasped at the view, squeezing his hand, "I never saw something so beautiful!" she exclaimed as the sky got an orange tint as the sun started to set.

"Me neither." Jurian said. Feyre smiled up at him, realizing that Jurian already looked at her. She kissed him. Once, twice, then tugged on his hand. Together they sat there, watching the sunset as Feyre leaned her head on his shoulder.

She could get used to this

Taglist: @timesconvert