#lucky iron axe

[disneytva]

Oswald The Lucky Rabbit Gets Even Luckier With Jon Favreau, Walt Disney Studios And Disney Branded Television In New Animation/Live- Action Hybrid Series For Disney+.

Jon Favreau has been a linchpin as one of the biggest and trusted creatives at The Walt Disney Company with multiple projects like the flagship series The Mandalorian and its spin-offs like The Book of Boba Fett, Ahsoka and Star Wars: Skeleton Crew as well his two "Iron-Man" films at Marvel Studios and the reimaginings of "The Jungle Book" and "The Lion King" at Walt Disney Studios and his next project is a bit lucky...

DEADLINE has confirmed that Favreau is developing a untitled Oswald The Lucky Rabbit series for Disney+ with Favreau as creator, writter and executive producer.

The animation/live action hybrid is about Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, a saucy, self-absorbed bunny. Favreau is writing and producing the project from Walt Disney Studios and Disney Branded Television. The project is being described as a animation/live-action hybrid ala "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?", "Chip n´ Dale: Rescue Rangers" (2022) and the axed MAX series "Tooned Out" and "Tweety Mysteries".

Oswald the Lucky Rabbit is very important to The Walt Disney Company. The cartoon, which bears close resemblance to Mickey Mouse, has a fractured history with the company and played a pivotal role in the creation of Disney’s most famous animated character. Oswald was created in 1927 by Walt Disney and featured in 27 animated shorts. But after Universal took control of the character in 1928, Disney created a new character as a replacement: Mickey Mouse.

Bringing Oswald home had been a priority for Disney CEO Bob Iger, and The Walt Disney Co. acquired the trademark in 2006 with the character being re-introduced in the EPIC MICKEY video-game series, appearances at the Disney Parks and multiple merchandise featuring the character. A fully animated series based on the character was in development at the now defunct Disney Digital Network animation unit created by Matt Danner ("Legend of The Three Caballeros", The Muppets Studio "Muppet Babies", 20th Century Animation "Night At The Museum: Kahmunrah Rises Again","Diary of A Wimpy Kid: The Last Straw") but was scrapped with Danner stating that "Disney is still heavily invested in wanting to revive the character".

[thoma-nari]

Navi

Albedo - He smells like acrylic paint, mixed with shampoo mainly elderly people use... Like the really floral ones. It's nice, and smells like a regular overpriced art store.

Amber - Gingerbread... She just does despite never eating them unless its Christmas. Her shampoo is subtle, so no one knows where the gingerbread scent is from.

Barabara - She is subtle, she's not getting any attention from smelling too bad or too good, you'd have to take a six second dog whiff to even realize she uses some floral shampoo.

Bennett - Gun powder, or fire in general. He mainly just feels a bit lucky that his bad luck doesn't lead to him constantly smelling like BO or crap. It isn't great, but there could be worse.

Diluc - Freshly Ironed suits, champagne, and some subtle cedar wood cologne. You'd have to corner him with a gun to ever get him to confess he wears cologne, let alone admit which type he wears.

Diona - She can wear as much perfume, or brush her teeth as much as she wants. But a cat simply escape the fishy smell, it's practically a given for any feline. But it's not overpowering luckily.

Eula - This is specific... But you know those perfumes made for kids that have Disney princesses on it and are like 'Berry blast' or 'Apple sparkles'. She smells like those, artificial fruit scents.

Fischl - Really nice oddly enough, an odd scent but a nice one nonetheless. Like blackberry cobbler or cherry cheesecake, it's uncommon but not unwelcome.

Jean - You know this woman got some perfume bottle she is religious to, only one bottle, specific brand and scent, no others. Miss Dior 'Rose N Roses', gifted to her from Lisa.

Kaeya - Old Kaeya wore axe body spray, but realized he got no babes with axe... So switched to a much nicer cologne. Switches between different Christian Dior depending on which is cheaper.

Klee - A literal child, but if an answer is needed so desperately. Fireplaces and cheap Easter chocolates. Jean makes sure Klee stays clean and smells good.

Lisa - Fresh books and sultry perfume, like the type that is really nice to smell and makes you want to steal a sample. Probably some type of luxury vanilla or cherry perfume.

Mika - Sweet boy, he doesn't really have a strong scent. But if if he's close enough, it odly smells like a clothing store. Like he straight smells like an Old Navy store.

Mona - She smells like an Old library, not in a bad way, it's cozy and comforting. On the rare times she has actual Mora on her, she smells like any salad she ordered bulks off.

Noelle - My girl, my first wish. She smells like croissants and vanilla, some may say roses... But I know she smells like a five star bakery. Just off of vibes alone.

Razor - I adore Razor, I really do. But you can't tell me he doesn't smell like mud and fresh grass... On the good times. Of BO and wet dog... On the bad times. It's 50/50.

Rosaria - Cigarettes, wine, and weed during Mondstadt events she was dragged to and really doesn't want to be there. Overall the scent of a sexy but very dead inside baddie.

Sucrose - Anxiety... Kidding. She likely smells a bit like Albedo since she's always with him, so a mix of acrylic paint, and some lavender from the body wash she uses.

Venti - ALCOHOL AND DEPRESSION. Kidding... Sort of. Very much alcohol, but can cover it up with the scent of baked goods and when sober he can smell like a nice summer day.

[bluey0petal]

𝐢𝐢𝐢 | 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

— CW ; None

— Synopsis ; Hiccup has a revelation while working, (Name) and Astrid have a little girl talk together, and the adults leave for yet another voyage— ensuring the start of dragon training.

— Word count ; 4747

Masterlist | 𝐢𝐯 | 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 — ᚲᛖᚾᛁᛜ ᛖᛁᚾ

ᚺᛟᚾᚢᛗ

The village began to fill with the hustle and bustle of barters and side long conversations once most of the village adults had retreated from the hall, coming back to flock through the village and resume their daily duties as it seemed. Hiccup still stood in the forge, sweat clinging to his forehead as the radiating heat from the forge began to slowly affect him, having been hammering away and refining the same sword for ages.

He wasn't too sure what the owner had done to mess up the weapon this badly, but he'd found it in the pile of requests that awaited his assistance, the sword practically hanging onto its last line of life, begging for him to end it. But, in the end— he pried the piece of metal from the pile and got to work, hammering endlessly and reshaping the searing iron with the tools at his disposal.

The clanging had become background noise, constant pings that would probably annoy any other person were just another noise in the ever going ambience of Berk. Most didn't notice him within the forge, seeing as he was there so often— it just became normal for the scrawny boy to be working away and improving his smithing skills.

Though, there were perks to having nobody pay attention to you. For one, he could easily do something he wasn't supposed to without anybody finding out, seeing as others would just perceive it as another one of his strange 'Hiccup-y quirks'. Second, the conversations he was able to hear from the strangely loud Vikings were rather entertaining, even if he hadn't been one for gossip.

"I wonder when te next traders ar stoppin' by.."

Nothing interesting.

"And he keeps eatin' me blummin' cabbages!"

Mildew.

"I accidentally got me axe stuck on me roof..."

How do you even do that?

"Can't believe te chief is makin' us take another trip."

Oh?

Hiccup perked, his interest piqued at the information he'd been able to snip from two passing Vikings holding a cluster of many oars within their hands.

"T's gettin' far too cold nowadays! And who'll be t'ere to protect the village if another raid happens?" The man continued, strolling by rather slowly that Hiccup almost thought they were purposefully letting him in on the knowledge— until he realised the familiar faces of Bucket and Mulch.

That short and chubby figure combined with the tall passing man with a bucket crammed onto his head— it was no mistake it was the two. Bucket was simply holding the oars, while mulch rambled on about another trip to the nest.

Hiccup paused his hammering, his brows pinching downwards as a strange sense of confusion filled him. Sure, trips to the nest weren't uncommon... but so late in the year? It was nearly snowing already, perhaps only a few weeks away from the first fall, but trips took weeks! By the time they set sail and came back they'd likely have become stuck in a barrier of ice.

The nest wasn't exactly far away, in fact it was close to the archipelago holding Berk, but the problem was the maze that apparently ran around the island. His father had told him about it time and time again. The fog bank holding a thousand secrets, and the only obstacle in the way of ending the dragon scourge.

How were they ever going to get past it? Unless they were lucky enough to have their trip ended early without any casualties, they were most likely to become stranded out at sea.

Though, he could also see the need for one last sail— his father was stubborn, that much was true, but he wasn't stupid. The raids were getting worse. Stock was depleting faster than ever and the population of the tribe was growing at an increasing rate too. So they had to take the chance to possibly end this problem before it got too bad.

Though... in Hiccup's opinion, they should just tell people to stop having kids— there's way too many. Last month there were four babies born! FOUR. That's a lot for their village. Considering the previous month there was three. How did they keep having so many kids? Actually, on that note— Hiccup didn't want to think about it too deeply.

"What're yer doin' standin' there sniffin' flowa's for?" The wonderfully gruff voice of his favourite mentor ever came to bless him, dragging him away from his train of thought and reeling him back into the wretched claws of reality, the sword having cooled down again much to his dismay.

"Yer betta' not be eaves droppin' on everyone again," Gobber grumbled, hobbling his way into the forge as his peg leg thudded everytime it hit the ground, the man hunched to an uncomfortable low, but it seemed to be normal for the middle aged man. "What? Me? No... I would— never," Hiccup denied, but it was rather obvious the boy was lying as he lifted the sword, returning it to the forge.

He grabbed the bellows and squeezed the two sides together multiple times, gushing air into the fire and pushing it to rage more as his mentor came back into the stall after leaving him absent by himself for so long. "Gah, say that to the woman who heard yer say how ugly her babe was!" Gobber exclaimed, jabbing his hook at the boy whom flinched upon recalling the situation, the scoldings of the angered woman still audible.

"Well— I wasn't lying," Hiccup murmured, pulling the sword out of the forge and taking it back to the anvil to complete his work that was almost finished, only a few final refinements needed to finish the retouch.

"I know... that thing still gives me chills— but yer can't let people know, they'll go mad," Gobber sighed, shaking his head and moving his way to a counter in the back, removing his hook from the holder it snapped into on his arm and replacing it with a stone hammer, twisting it into the mechanism and locking it in place.

"How's those orders I gave ya goin'?" Gobber asked, making his way towards the pile of weapons that needed their own mending. Hiccup huffed, returning to hammering the iron before answering his mentors question. "Uh— this is Uhm... still my first one," Hiccup admitted, already preparing for the scolding he was to receive.

It was midday, probably noon by now honestly, and he'd spent most of the morning scrambling through the forest in search of the Night Fury that had knocked Odin's ghost out of him— passed out for who knows how long and he didn't even get started on the forge work until late morning, even now he hadn't been able to focus because so many interruptions kept getting sent his way.

"One!? What're you doin' lad! Usually you'd have gone through five—" Gobber gasped, standing back up immediately from where he'd reached down for and weapon and whipping around to face the boy. As expected, the man had been shocked by his lack of work ethic today, and Hiccup couldn't really blame him.

Lots of weapons were damaged in the raid this morning, and it was rush hour— just without the people waiting in line and instead it was the voices in your head telling you to do better rather than them. Anywho, the pile was massive, and he may or may not have to work overtime to keep up with what he'd missed.

"I know, I know... it's just— I've been.. busy," he shrugged, returning to the rhythmic clang of metal against metal. The sounds of shifting items and scavenging echoed behind Hiccup while Gobber went back to the pile, picking up a pole that appeared to be a damaged lance— except it was completely without the head.

"Busy wit' what? Huntin' that Night Fury?" Gobber joked, walking past the boy again as he shimmied his way through the forge, making his way over to a bench that held onto the contents of a scrap pile, many different parts littered in the bin on table that could be of use to the man.

Despite the obvious crack at a joke the smith had made, Hiccup still tensed, drawing his hammering to a slower pace— being consumed in the flashbacks of that things eyes. Those piercing green eyes that seemed so similar to his own. So similar to what he could be.

Confident, scary, something to be respected but feared. He could be that, but at the same time... those fierce eyes also showed fear, acceptance, surrender. It was surreal. The encounter was quick, but it lingered in his mind and still put him on edge to now. He'd probably even have slight trouble sleeping tonight— thanks to the loud roar and blackened cloak of night the dragon could possibly hide in.

Gobber noticed the silence and absence of an answer, pausing himself and craning his neck to look back at the boy, the corners of his mouth twitched into a frown despite the blockage of his overbite. "Yer seriously think yer hit it?" He asked, letting the items he'd picked up fall flat against the counter, staring at the younger boy.

"I— I hit... something, when I found my bola— it was broken and nothing was there, so," Hiccup shrugged, the lie rolling smoothly from the tip of his tongue. Despite being a bad liar normally when put on the spot, Hiccup had thought about what to tell anyone if a curious souls may ask— and lucky he did prepare, because now he had the perfect story... sort of.

He'd gone looking for it, but found nothing but the bola ropes lying on the forest floor. Simple but effective. If anyone asked about anything further, he simply didn't know because he wasn't there, and who would doubt it? It's not like anyone thought something he made could actually capture a Night Fury.

Gobber stared at the boy, his jaw tightening in a fit of concentration at the answer Hiccup had provided him with. "Aye, well— at least yer hit somethin' lad. A good aim is a good tool for killin' those beasts," Gobber nodded, not exactly the best when it comes to comforting, but he was rather okay at seeing the good side of some things.

The old smith turned back to his own project without another word, beginning to pull out different tools he'd need to attach the new head of the spear to its shaft. Hiccup watched him, the mood in the forge having soured more than he'd have liked, but he supposed the good energy of today had already washed out. Maybe that apology he was given used it all up...

Oh well.

.

An axe hurled by Astrid's head, landing itself just a ways away from the red centre of the target it aimed for, splintering the wood and adding yet another one of the many indents cause by the sharpened blade of the weapon. "Not bad, your aims getting better," Astrid nodded, walking over and prying her axe from the target, the weapon sitting evenly in her grip.

"Thanks, I think your axe helped though— it's comfortable in my hands," (Name) nodded, the two standing just on the edge of the forest, the village behind them and woods in front as multiple targets were lined up rather shakily along the tree line. Some of the red and white targets hung in branches, while others stayed rooted onto the ground— each a different height for more efficiency.

"I got it readjusted at the forge last week... dunno what they did— but, it's been better ever since," Astrid shrugged, tossing the axe between her hands as she strolled over to where (Name) stood, a stick prodded into the ground to mark where the girls should begin their throw from, testing just how far they could hurl the axe through the air.

"Really? I hope you didn't get Gobber to do it— I heard he's started using a weird wax on his projects..." (Name) grimaced, reminiscing the whole fiasco of how Gunnar accused Gobber of using a different wax. When asked how he knew, Gunnar revealed he likes to... lick his weapons— because the metal apparently tastes good, and it was revealed Gobber had indeed been using a different wax, that of which shall not be mentioned.

"I'm pretty sure Hiccup did it," Astrid hummed, moving to step where (Name) had previously been, the girl moving out of the way for the blonde as she held her axe high and took her aim. Her arm swung forward, the weapon was flung from her grasp, spinning circles in the air before indenting itself into the dead centre of a target in the treetops, nearly breaking the painted barrel.

"Good— I'd trust whatever he uses over Gobber's anyday..." (Name) nodded, staring up at the target where the axe had hit, the branch the barrel was tied too being far too tall for them to reach. One of them would probably have to climb the tree and retrieve both the barrel and the weapon from the clutches of the bark coated branches.

"What's up with you?" Astrid suddenly quipped, her tone questioning but curious as she turned to the girl next to her, her hands planting themselves firmly on her own hips. (Name) froze, shifting to look at Astrid just as the girl look back at her, their eyes meeting with Astrid's being like a knife that held her in her place.

"Eh? What do you mean—?" (Name) blinked, crossing her arms defensively over her chest without realising, her stance becoming more closed off with just the question. Astrid took notice of the shift, how the girl grew a sharper gaze and a slight probably unintentional bite in her tone, one that could match the nips of the winter chill.

"Ever since this morning— you've started talking about Hiccup like he was any other Viking," Astrid pointed out, nodding her head to the girl parallel to her, calling out her sudden switch. (Name) blinked at the call out, feeling her own heart begging to accelerate unnaturally at the mention of her change in behaviour, one that had been so sudden it was obvious.

"Well... is he not?" At this point, she was just digging a deeper hole for herself in the yard where Astrid held her suspicions, and soon— she may very well dig too far she'd be stuck. "Uh, no? He's a runt. He's weak— he couldn't kill a dragon if he tried," Astrid drawled on, listing multiple factors as to why Hiccup was the outcast of the village, those of which were unfortunately true.

"Okay, but... are any of us so... different?" She almost cringed upon hearing her own words, the corny conversation travelling to a place she'd rather not go, but as she'd been taught— sometimes you have to do things you don't want to. "What?" Astrid looked utterly dumbfounded at her friend's response, her face dropping to a neutral expression.

"We can't kill dragons yet either. Wouldn't that make us weak?" (Name) turned Astrid's own logic back onto her, and the blonde could only have a ball stuck in her throat— keeping her words uncomfortably down. Did (Name) not realise she was comparing them, her, to Hiccup? The boy who managed to destroy half the village without even flicking a finger? That was absurd.

Astrid hadn't exactly thought of it like that. But why would she? Ever since she was but a wee lass she'd been able to kill a fully grown buck with only a dagger— she'd been a prodigy, something to be admired and praised. To compare her to Hiccup— the weakling and underdeveloped twig of the tribe, that was impossible in her mind.

How could she, the youngest warrior of the tribe, be compared to the boy who wasn't even allowed to step outside during a raid? She was the leader of the fire brigade, she was expected to win the honour that was whispered about in the streets as dragon training approached. So how could she be compared to him? How could (Name) compare him to all of them?

He spent his days in the forge, sheltered from the sun, making his skin strangely pale compared to the rest of them, giving the boy an almost ghastly look. He was skinny, no muscles in sight unlike the rest of them. He destroyed the village without fail everytime he placed the foot down onto the ground. Hel, she was sure the gods had cursed him the moment he'd taken his first struggled breath on the lands of Berk.

"No. That doesn't make us weak— we just haven't had our training yet," Astrid shook her head, a stubborn denial flitting through her, her gaze casting itself down to the ground as her facial features twisted into a tight grimace, having taken insult to the words that (Name) had spoke.

"Neither has he, what if— he could be the greatest dragon killer out there?" (Name) suggested, gesturing her hands to the skies, the skies that were a clear crystallised blue, the same shade as Astrid's own eyes. Very few clouds floated above, and it gave the sun more perch on the winter bitten land that had fog shifting close to the ground with the frost.

"He's a runt. There's no way," Astrid shook her head, still deep within her own thoughts that told her to deny every possibility that Hiccup could ever reach her level. To her, it wasn't about making Hiccup look stronger, it was that the insinuation made her look weaker. As if.

She wouldn't allow that, she couldn't. Truthfully, she shouldn't be worrying this much— Hiccup wasn't even going to join dragon training, so she had nothing to worry about... but even then, why was she so threatened by the idea of him beating her? And why was (Name) so comfortable with talking about Hiccup as if he were the same as anyone else?

"He's might be a runt— but, who knows. Maybe the gods will finally shed some light on him," (Name) shrugged, feeling a familiar tinge of red come to dust her now clean face at the thought of the boy, having scrubbed the blood off her skin with her arm warmers earlier, which in truth wasn't really the best decision— seeing as now the vermillion was smeared rather drearily across the woolen fabric.

Astrid drew her gaze back to the girl next to her, observing the look on her face intently. A red was dusted across her face, and it could be chalked up to the cold— but that would mean her nose would have to be red as well... oh gods. Was she— blushing!?

"Are you blushing?" Astrid gaped, watching as (Name) jolted in surprise, snapping her own eyes to connect with Astrid's a look of panic in them that was quickly shuffled behind the walls of acting (Name) had quickly put up. "What? No—! Why would I be blushing?" (Name) furrowed her brows, shaking her head in the very same denial Astrid had been consumed by earlier, and it finally clicked in the blondes head.

"Oh my Thor— you like him!" Astrid exclaimed, jutting an accusing finger towards the girls chest, and while the action didn't do much in retrospect, (Name) felt the weight of it weigh her down, embarrassment coming to swallow her whole, just as she wished the ground would right now.

"No I don't! Why would I like him?" (Name) argued back, taking her own stand on the situation, keeping her foot down and not backing down from the shocked girl across from her.

Astrid wasn't exactly someone who'd get shocked, she was a fierce warrior who wasn't fazed by much— but it seemed this might just crack the hardened shell of the blonde lass. Her best friend— someone on par with her level because they trained together, like the runt of the village. Hiccup the Useless had somehow got someone to like like him.

"You've been defending him all day— you skipped hanging out with the rest of us and now you're blushing as you praise him! You totally do!" Astrid shrieked, still reeling at the possibility that (Name) had somehow developed a crush on the boy. Even if it was nothing more than a small flutter of her friend's heart, it was still something.

"Well— even if I did, you have no right to judge me. Don't think I didn't hear about your little adventures with that trader's son," (Name) claimed, the memories of the boy who'd came from the seas being plunged into Astrid's head.

Astrid froze, her muscles stiffening as she took a step back, and it was now her turn to have a flush splinter on her face, flourishing over her cheeks and making her rounded face all the more obvious as she frowned. "That was one time," Astrid hissed, crossing her arms and turning away with a new feeling of embarrassment striking her heart.

"And so was this. So, I think we're even," (Name) turned away quickly, striding over to the tree that held the barrel and beginning to scale it, digging her fingers harshly into the sides of the trunk and heaving herself up the tall pine tree, branches beginning to brush her face as she did so.

"You—" Astrid went to bite back, but eventually held her tongue and relinquished her anger, letting it fizzle out from within her and slumping her shoulders hesitantly, watching as (Name) clambered her way up the tree, the branches creaking under the girls weight as she slowly crawled over to the barrel.

"Catch!" (Name) called, grasping her hand around the leather frayed handle of the axe and prying it out of the barrel, some chips of wood flying as she did so before she adjusted her grip on the weapon and tossed it down to Astrid.

The blonde easily caught it, taking the axe in her hand and looking to the next target that hadn't yet been destroyed, her next victim now solidified as she took her aim. Simultaneously, (Name) scuttled down from the tree and made sure to stay out of Astrid's line of fire— coming to stand next to her as they had before.

The axe was tossed from her hands, spinning through the air and whizzing around before again landing dead centre in the eye of its target— yet another perfect shot from the blonde who seemed to never miss.

The two took turns throughout the evening, wasting away through different barrels that ended up on the wrong side of their weapons. Eventually, the sun had begun to slowly make its way downhill, and they two knew it was time to head back home— praying for a full nights rest this time.

They bid their goodbyes, strolling seperate ways towards their family houses. Normally, the tribe would gather in the great hall for dinner, but tonight seemed like one of the off handed nights where everyone would enjoy a peaceful dinner in their own home, huddled around their family hearth and bundled in the warmth of familial embrace.

The sky painted itself with rose golds and lilacs that swirled together to create a gradient only the gods could produce— but eventually, the beautiful hues had to die down into the ink that drowned the land without fail every night, only the moon being around to provide light alongside the torches as (Name) finally reached home.

She pushed the door open, greeted by the rush of warmth that hugged her tightly and the illuminated insides of her hut— the two figures of her parents inside welcoming her. Strangely enough, they were gathered around the table together, a large wicker basket sitting on top and having already been sealed off.

Her parents took note of her entrance, turning to look at their daughter who had returned from the days 'vacation' and finally come home to the small banged up hut that had somehow stood its ground over the course of all these years.

"Ah, (Name)! Yer back hun," her mother chirped, standing up from the table with a loud 'skrrt' of the chair that she rose from. The burly woman approached her daughter, a smile lingering on her face— but the ever so off glint in her eye told the girl something was wrong.

"Is something alright?" (Name) blinked, looking between her father and mother who grew visibly nervous and uneasy at the girls ever so innocent question. "We're fine hun— it's just, the chief, he er— most of te village is goin' for one last trip to find the nest, starting tonight," her mother informed her, and the information was nothing short of a shock, the dreadful feeling of gravity failing its act upon her gut startling her.

Her gut churned, jaw clenching and teeth grinding in an unsavoury dance that caused a slight shoot of pain through her lower maw. "Seriously?" (Name) muttered, the news hitting her like a shocker that had come out of nowhere, ready to fry her brain into nothing more than a fizzing mush of worry and anxiety.

"Aye, but— we'll be back in a few weeks... hopefully," her father stood, picking up the basket with him and slinging it over his back, using the strap to keep it steady as he walked over to his daughter with a pitiful gaze. "I promise it won't be too long lass," he reassured her, placing a rather large hand down on her shoulder, the warmth from his skin radiating to her own— but the comfort didn't make any of her newfound worries subside.

"But— what if you don't come back? What if a raid happens when most of the village is gone?" She stuttered, nearly fumbling over her words that threatened to come pouring out of her mouth in a never ending whirling spiral.

They were meant to watch her on her first day in dragon training— they said they'd come down and support her with the out her kids parents. Now they're just bailing on her? She understood it was the orders of the chief, and that the future of the village was important, but it was far too late in the year to take a trip.

Hel— she didn't even know how to cook on her own! How was she going to stand the food cooked in the great hall— even the memories of the overly salted sea bass plagued her mind, the piercing tang of salt still tangible on the buds of her tongue, despite the situation taking place many moons ago.

"You'll be fine hun. They're leavin' behind a few warriors, and another raid isn't due for weeks— they still have to go through the other tribes, like the Bog Burglar's and the Beserker's," the soothing tone of her mother softened her own franticness, wrapping her in a blanket of imaginary cotton wool that warmed up her inner being.

"You'll come back, right?" (Name) asked, a pleading look shimmering in the reflection of her eyes as she stared at her parents, that of which smiled at her reassuringly. "Of course we will hun, now. Go to bed, you have to beat those kids arses for me," her mother snickered, a smug smile curling up onto her face as she pet (Name's) back, walking past the girl.

Her father soon followed, the two walking to the door of the house and slinking out into the night together, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the hut with only the crackling fire as her friend once the door shut, automatically locking place place.

She didn't know how long she stood there, but it was a while. The time ticked on, and her thoughts flickered through like the pages of a story turning without a sign of an end. They'd truly just left— most of the village had just left. If there was another raid, a few warriors wasn't going to do anything.

What if something happened in dragon training? What if the dragons hurt her or the others? The thoughts caused her to frown, her expression morphing into a grimace that reflected her inner turmoil, the light of the blazing fire illuminating her in the home she now stood alone in.

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

wait this blog has an archanea drought let me fix that

archanea has one of my favorite casts in fire emblem because of how bland and replaceable everyone is. i’m the kind of player who’ll reset if a shitty benchwarmer i’ll never use outside of their joining map dies, but wendell died and i felt nothing. not even mild annoyance. truly they are games that fully encourage the iron man lifestyle because of the sheer amount of nothingburger jobbers they throw at you and this has looped back around into making me love Bad Cain Replacement #6

it also means i can headcanon the shit out of these guys and no one will give me any pushback cuz no one but me cares. i can say midia cries herself to sleep every night because she’s hardcore yearning for nyna but has to go to bed facing astram and his D rank in axes instead and no one can argue because how many people even know who midia is? radd has dreams of eating caesar’s heart and absorbing his powers even though IRL caesar is kind of bullshitting and has just been getting lucky. fe18 should be Fire Emblem: New Mystery of the Blade of Heroes of Light and Shadow Dragons

.

[ilovetv99]

sliding into ur inbox to request more thoughts on tabiclown . i love those freaks tell me ur thoughts on those freaks!!

disclaimer: i started writing this as soon as i got this ask, which was [checks clock] ffffouuurrrr hours ago. wow. so um. i have to put most of this under the cut. seriously, this thing turned out to be over 2.2k words. i hope you enjoy my mini essay ❤💙

let's start off with a big one: trust.

yes, there is a level of unspoken trust between them. it's what keeps them both together, the idea that the other person won't turn on them or abandon them. not just cuz they don't want to, but because they literally can't. what they're setting out to do is not possible as one person, and befriending those from the outside is of course dangerous. one person can't fend off against a slew of fighters on one life if need be, no matter how skilled they are, but two people definitely could.

probably a controversial opinion: clown trusts tabi more than tabi trusts clown. that's not to say she doesn't trust him, because she does, but tabi is... wary of him. this is very normal considering who clown is, but it's also in tabi's nature to distrust others no matter how close they are. there are times where they will be camping out for the night; clown will be asleep, and tabi is lying awake, unable to sleep because she's convinced he's going to kill her one of these nights. (he won't. not like that.)

clown is not worried about tabi turning on him. not because he doesn't think she will, but because he is prepared if she does. he will not betray her unless she does so first; and he emphatically knows she is aware of what will happen if she does.

if he was the type to do so, he'd study her like a bug, because her skill, tactics and drive are fascinating to him. before her name was known, no one was as good as him, and the only person who has clashed against his axe and survived is tabi. now there is no one as good as her. she has enough self-preservation to not brazenly throw her life away for the sake of the mission, but other than that she will not stop moving forward, even if it puts her in jeopardy; she can't. so if anything, he trusts that she'll make the right decisions.

now, let's get into the meat of this. like, say, how they met. :)

let's start with some context. (aka my headcanon for how axe civ works)

axes are typically very distrusting and even cagier than other civilizations. typically, axe lives tend to be short, as their civ is almost all about battles: the weaker tiers are treated as gladiators thrust into the arena more than they are citizens. any axe lucky enough to survive to iron is shown as more competent than the others, and are less required to engage in battles, but still funnel the lower tiers through and do their due diligence. now they must learn on their own. anyone who somehow manages to upgrade to gold axe is faced with the challenge of fighting against a diamond axe.

if by some miracle they survive then they themselves become diamond, and now call the shots and determine who fights against who. most iron axes either lay low or defect at this time, because although upgrading to gold is a natural part of the process, it is commonly seen as a fool's errand. no axe is required to fight a diamond until they are gold, but this does not mean diamonds are not allowed to challenge lower ranks.

SO NOW THAT YOU HAVE THAT INFORMATION. i can talk about their meeting.

when tabi was a newborn axe, clown was already either an iron or a diamond axe. by the time she was a stone-moving-onto-iron axe, he had already cemented himself as one of the best warriors axe civ had seen yet, which easily secured his spot as a diamond. tabi gets her iron axe and takes advantage of the opportunity to take it a little easier now and goes researching. when she comes back to the arena she is outstandingly successful. this catches clown's attention, and he wants to determine her success for himself; so behind the backs of the other diamond axes, he confronts her outside the arena and they fight. by fighting tooth and nail, almost at death's door, tabi survives and technically wins. the buzz about her was most certainly warranted, because she's insanely good.

from this, clown determines her as one of the few people with the makings of a true fighter. he offers her help and training and she initially refuses, saying she can make it on her own merit. he tells her where to find him if she changes her mind, and disappears. they train together twice or thrice (again, behind the backs of the other diamonds) before tabi reaches gold. on the day of her gold match clown specifically puts himself down to fight her for her diamond rank, and the fight for her life begins.

in truth, though he'd never admit it aloud or otherwise, clown was holding back because he wanted her to become a diamond, because she was the only other person who understood what it was like to be a natural-born fighter. internally he counted her hits until she was on her last swing, and then stopped the match to declare a victory. she had long since earned it. it's also worth noting that even before when she was only iron clown had considered her an equal to him, something that diamond axes typically do not do because everyone is beneath them regardless of skill. it was only now that she was actually a diamond axe along with him that he could actually act on it, because she is the only one he respects.

so why didn't they stay? i can't say what drove tabi just yet, but i can tell you about clown: he hated being a diamond axe. most people chill out when they get to diamond cuz they don't really have to fight anymore, they can boss others around and live off the lay of the land. this was different than taking a day or so for respite, it was almost laying down their axe altogether. that's not what fighters do. clown strives to hone his skills to the finest point, and he can't do that by sitting around and watching others fight for him. the only ones he can choose to fight are the weak, lower ranks who struggle just to survive, and it gets old quickly. it's an itch that can never be scratched. the lifestyle of diamonds was boring and slow, meaningless in its existence. in this he and tabi share a sentiment: they are fighters first before anything else. if they cannot fight, then what are they?

tabi does not stay long enough to experience life as a diamond for herself. she had no interest in doing so anyways; she has other ideas. and now she has someone who can help her with it. the night of her reaching diamond rank, tabi pulls clown aside, and tells him about her plan of retrieving all five eternal weapons. two days later, tabi initiates the mission to infiltrate sword civ and get the eternal sword. clown stays behind in axe civ, and in the meantime works towards attaining the eternal axe.

so, what about the other diamond axes? well... there aren't any.

usually, in order to get the eternal axe, the diamonds fight each other and whoever wins after all matchups is the "wielder" (more like guard) of the axe. if there is an existing wielder, that is the last opponent to fight. clown, however, skips the tournament part and goes straight for the wielder, killing them and taking the axe for himself. the other diamonds don't find out about this until a couple days later, and immediately single clown out for going behind their backs and breaking protocol. from this, a decision is made: in order to secure the axe permanently, the others must die. and so they did, one by one, and it was wonderful. from then onwards, clown sealed himself away in the diamond tier neighborhood, gathering supplies and conserving his swings for when tabi would return. he knew the diamonds' absence may be questioned by the others but certainly not missed, even if it technically meant no one could upgrade to diamond; the ordeal of gold was enough to drive them away as is. he could leave them to continue the status quo as usual, and not have to worry about more people knocking at his door.

now i could talk about what happened in bow civ, buuuut id have to be asked to do that separately cuz this is REALLY LONG ALREADY jesus christ. so here's some... smaller tbcl things :3

tabi is the one who taught clown about splash potions, and clown is the one who expanded their uses and made some into lingering potions

tabi "invented" dual wielding when they were escaping bow civilization, when she had her axe in her dominant hand and the eternal sword in the other while trying to fend off against attackers. clown loved this idea and immediately followed suit with his own axe and the eternal axe, and the defending archers proceeded to be run through his blades like a hot knife through butter

tabi is the only one who has seen some of what is under clown's mask (which is a hc of mine in and of itself hehe)—when she was training as an iron axe she landed a really good swing on him, so good in fact that it cleaved his mask in two. for less than a split second what looked almost like nothing was exposed before he covered the wound with his hand, ichor seeping through his fingers so dark it looked black, and he silently crushed a golden carrot in his other hand and put it over the injured side: when his hands moved away the mask was fully intact and good as new. tabi still doesn't have an answer for that and hasn't seen it since. (he has shown her how his mask opens up at the mouth though)

clown may not kill unnecessarily, but by god when that battle fever takes over it's a mess. homeboy has some serious bloodlust. you won't convince me otherwise on that. which is why tabi lets him be the one to cut down whoever's in their way while she forms their escape route/next step of plan/etc.

one time tabi was able to pin him and his weapon to the ground and put him in a headlock. he stayed quiet for a little bit after that

im gonna be real i do not know the end goal of getting all the eternal weapons; but i do think they want it for different reasons

really, clown doesn't want tabi to die at all, and it's preferable if she didn't betray him. however, he wouldn't be entirely upset if she did, because he wants to kill her so bad.

i am not even exaggerating right now, he wants to have the honor of hunting her down so fucking bad. it's probably the greatest thing she could ever do for him, even if it is unfortunate. he doesn't want her to die on the mission because he wants to be the thing that ultimately kills her. and she 100% knows this; by working together as long as they don't go behind each others' backs they will not attack one another. once their ideals are clearly too different for them to continue, that protection is lifted, and you better believe clown will jump on that shit. being the one to kill such a worthy and exemplary warrior is everything he wants and more.

tabi is.... admittedly a little concerned about evbo going after her and running into clown, because if they go head to head clown would tear him apart without question. she doesn't tell clown about evbo specifically or the fact that he can respawn because of this. surely this will not bite her in the ass later :3c

i loooove the idea of clown being affectionate or caring and lowkey freaking tabi out. because this guy is not friendly. he is Not a friend so why is he being so nice to her. he trained her, he bandaged her wounds carefully, he embraced her when he saw her again after her return from sword civ (after he nearly killed her because she was in his house—because he left his door open to grab some things from outside and didn't know it was her, just that someone was inside). it's so weird to her but she doesn't Hate it

part of why clown likes being affectionate with her is because he loves to get under her skin. she's so serious and no-nonsense all the time (not to mention frequently trapped in her own head) so it's fun to tease and fluster her. yawningawning (whose ask im literally responding to LOL hello) had a really good addition to this which is that tabi would start swinging a punch at him but clown would be into it and they'd start fistfighting, which is so awesome. sadomasoclowsm [is booed off the stage]

one time after she returned from sword civ, while lying awake at night, tabi hesitantly blurts out the question, "are we... friends?" to clown. he asks her what does she think and she says she doesn't know; there are no friends in pvp civilization. he just responds with "then we cannot be friends." his choice of words sticks with tabi like glue: it wasn't that they weren't friends, or "if we're not friends then what are we", he was saying they couldn't be friends, no matter what happened or how much they cared. that's not what they're built for. it's not in their nature to be friends with others.

if only things were different.

AND THAT'S ALL I HAVE FOR YOU AAAAAA. i hope this was at least some sort of insight as to how i view them.

tl;dr: i think they're silly funnies, and they are absolutely doomed <3

[yinora]

Hiii!! Can I request early seasons sam x reader where there exhausted after a hunt so they cry together in a cute way? <3 (I hope you get the vision aha)

a/n: i totally get your vision!! i struggled a little bit writing this, but i hope you enjoy it! im really glad you requested this, because i really wanna get better at writing more things like this. i tried to make it a little bit angst to fluff, but idk if i succeeded at that

pairing: Sam Winchester x gn!reader

note: i kinda made Dean an asshole, much to my own pain, but it fits the best. i'd just like to point out that Dean does care, but in this fic he's just a dick about it, because it fit best

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

you swear you didn't mean for it to go so not-according-to-plan.

you, Sam and Dean took this case, an old cabin in the woods was haunted by an old lumberjack's ghost, who wasn't very keen on human interaction when he was alive, and therefore, once he died, his body was never found, he kept his place a secret, and now he was haunting the old place, and anyone who came in ended up bloody, to say the least.

you three had made a simple plan: get in, stay quiet, find the body, and roasty toasty mr mcghosty.

but, much to nobody's surprise, the place was old, and made of wood, and apparently, wasn't as sturdy as it used to be.

Sam and Dean had made it up the stairs with minimal noise, however, much to your luck, one of the steps broke under your weight, making your leg get stuck, a piece of wood impaling your thigh, making you groan at the sudden wave of sharp pain, and ofcourse, that alerted the ghost.

it appeared, right infront of you, and swung a rather large axe at you, which you managed to avoid getting hit with by throwing your iron wrench you had with you at it, making it temporarily dissappear.

long story short, Sam helped you up, you three found the body, and burned it, end of story.

however, you had bled quite a bit, and passed out.

next thing you know, you wake up in the back of the impala, Sam sitting next to you in the backseat with a worried expression, and Dean complaining in the front.

"i told you it was a bad idea to bring them, Sammy, they're newer at this than we are, we shouldn't have brought them" you furrow your brows.

"Dean, this isn't their fault! it could've been either of us who fell through those stairs, we just got lucky, and they didn't" Sam argues back, mindlessly keeping his hand on your bandaged thigh, which you realize was probably taken care of by him.

"....sorry..." you mumble quietly, barely audible.

"you better be, you could've made this case go fully to shit" Dean snaps back. he doesn't mean it, you tell yourself, he's just worried.

you manage to stay quiet and composed the whole ride back to the shitty motel, keeping your eyes trained out the window to prevent yourself from crying, which Sam, being as caring as he is, notices.

once your back, Dean tells you both to go back inside to the motel room, and he'll get some chinese food.

you stumble back inside, Sam right behind you and locking the door behind you two.

"you okay?" he asks hesitantly. he feels like shit. he shouldn't have let you walk up those stairs third, it should've been him, he should've been the one who got hurt, not you.

you try to respond, but the words die on your tongue as you feel a lump form in your throat, and your eyes tear up.

you try to blink the tears away, though Sam has already noticed them, and crossed the room in a few strides and wrapped his arms around your waist.

trying to blink away the tears doesn't work, it just makes them fall as you start crying, wrapping your arms around Sam just as he wraps his around you, hiding your face in his chest.

he can't help but tear up aswell, both in relief that your ok and in sadness of you feeling like this and having to deal with both the scare of getting swinged at with an axe and having to deal with his brother's shit.

"its okay, you're okay, we're all okay..." he murmurs shakily, trying to reassure the both of you.

[akwolfgrl]

Rugged swordsman and pretty cook part 9

<part 8

What are you?” Zoro found himself asking his new captain.

“I am a rubber man!” Luffy stated proudly. His leg was still lifted.

“So you can't swim?” His husband asked with sadness in his voice. The seas and everything in it was one of Sanji's favorite things in the world. That man would never willingly choose to eat a Devil Fruit.

“Never learned how! Soooo, can't miss what cha never knew!” Luffy was almost always cheerful and happy.

Zoro could hear the Marines muttering to themselves on the ground, but he paid them no mind. They were all weak and no match for any of them.

“Get a gun and kill yourselves!! I don't need useless soldiers!! That's an order!” The asshole who ruled over this town with an iron axe shouted his orders. Zoro watches in horror as the soldiers turn their guns on themselves.

“What the hell do these Marines think they're doing?!” Zoro shouted in alarm.

“Stop! It's not worth your lives!” He heard Sanji join in the alarm.

“I am the Marines worst nightmare! IF YOU HAVE THE GUTS THEN EXECUTE ME!!” Luffy yelled as he ran for Axe-Hand Morgan, his fist raised.

The man blocked Luffy's attacks with his axe hand. “People like you without any status have no right to oppose me! I am Marine Lieutenant Axe-Hand Morgan!” The Marines yelled aye!

“I'm Luffy, nice meet you. I'm still gonna kick your ass,”

<>

Koby watched as Luffy beat up the Marine lieutenant and Luffy was winning! They were all saved! Then he heard the click of a gun, out of the corner of his eye he could see the other blond omega, Helmeppo, pointing a gun at his head.

“Wait!” Helmeppo screamed as Luffy continued to beat up Axe-Hand Morgan. “You need to look at me, idiot, I told you to wait!” Luffy finally turned to look. “if you want this shrimp boy to live, then don't move a muscle! If anyone moves I'll shoot!”

“Luffy! I…I don't want to be a burden! I don't wanna get in your way…I am not afraid of death!” Koby confessed to Luffy- the one who had saved him, the one who had given him the courage to stand up to Alivda. He had already been shot and lived, he wouldn't be that lucky again…would he?

“Okay..I know!” Luffy smiled at him, if that was the last this Koby ever saw, he'd die a happy man.

Everything seemed to happen at once, yet still in slow motion. Luffy readied himself to his Helmeppo just as Axe-Hand Morgan made his move. Zoro headed for Morgan all the while Helemeppo screamed his ear off when it all stopped. Before Luffy's fist could connect, before Morgan could hurt Luffy. The married couple sprung into action. Zoro had cut Morgan while Sanji had kicked Helmeppo in the face.

“That's for throwing a child over a wall,” Sanji kicked him again, Koby swore he heard bones break. “That's for wasting food,” Sanji raised his foot above his head before slamming back down. “That's for hurting and tormenting MY husband!” Koby watched as blue flowers continued to rain down from Sanji. He was an avenging angel come to save him once again.

[shadows-over-the-wastes]

Shadows Over the Wastes: Chapter Two

Staring at the edge of an axe head, running a whetstone over it for the final touches of sharpening. I could see my reflection. Minty green coat, reflected in iron, with a messy, unkempt, far-too long, white mane. It hung in my face, hiding the brown freckles dotting my cheeks, and the fudge colored eyes that peered from between the strands. My irises were so dark they nearly blended in with my pupils, giving me a beady-eyed, lightless look. I almost always had a miserable expression painted across my face. That is, when blood wasn’t smeared across it first. My father is Cripps Crackle, the strongest of the Rusteaters. I’m his son, Chocolate Pennyroyal. Most just call me “Chocco”. It's stupid. It's childish. I hate it.

Cripps is single-hoofedly the strongest earth pony I know. Somehow he ended up getting with a unicorn. Well, not somehow. She didn’t have a choice. Which is why I ended up with the best of both worlds. Genetic lottery, I guess. Physical strength and magical prowess, lucky me. Unfortunately, that made me the de facto choice to take over his iron throne. Which I did not want. Even despite how feral my clan-mates were whenever we ransacked a town or exterminated a small village, simply for the fun of it; I can’t help but feel horrible. Some sympathy for the ponies I kill. The ponies I slaughter. At least, the ones undeserving. Other Clans? Steel Rangers? Hell, The Enclave? I reveled in it. And that’s what made it worse. I’m the best at what I do.

Today I was leading a scavenging group to an old robotics factory. Supposedly there were Flamescars taking hold there, using it to manufacture machines of mass-waste. Bots made to raze cities. We couldn’t know for sure, but we had to see if the rumors were true.

Slinging my axe over my back, I continued my lead, snorting. I could hear the rest of my intelligence-destitute clan-mates bantering behind me. I wore pre-war armor covered in rusted spikes, with large, extendable claws on the front plates of my forelegs. Looking back, I whistled through my teeth. “Shut it, maggots!” I snarled, using my leader tone. It almost immediately got them to quiet down, snapping their attention to me. “Now listen. If we flap our lips without a lick of consideration for how loud we might be, what do you think is going to happen? Hmm?” I watched a small male pegasus raise his hoof. “You don’t need to raise your fucking hoof, Longswipe.”

“Right, sorry. Uh… eh. They’ll hear us coming, and sick the bots on us.” He answers weakly. A coy front for his underlying sociopathy.

“Great fucking job, you can rub two pieces of brain meat together. Now you two.” I extended a foreleg, pointing at them, and baring my teeth. I had very pronounced canines, a trait common to wasteland ponies, but none quite as big as mine. “Quit your joking, or the only joke here will be how I’ll be using your intestine-strewn corpse to play tetherball! Am I understood?”

They backed up, nodding and rearing a hoof. High Hall spoke up, an earth pony sniper. “Y-yes! Of course!”

Letting out a hot puff through my nose, I turned back around, flicking my tail. “Good. Keep those lips shut, before I sew them closed with fucking barbed wire.” I continued making tracks, soon setting my eye on an old dusty facility, the outside surrounded by degraded old vehicles, and scrapped bots.

I felt a prick run up my spine. No outside defenses. That wasn’t right. Going to the front door, I withdrew my axe from my back, holding it up with bright green magic. My squad members backed me up, waiting for the door to be kicked in. High Hall sat with his semi-auto sniper at the ready, in a low position. “Ready for your signal.” He muttered, keeping his voice low.

Bucking the door, the chains and locks snap, the metal entryway careening open. However, the inside was dark, and empty. Starting to move in, I clicked on the flashlight attached to my chestpiece. “Lights on…voices down.” I whispered, motioning with a hoof. The rest followed me inside, and we made our way to the center of the warehouse. All of the bots were gone, completely cleaned out. No protectron or assaultron left to operate. All crates were emptied, all spare parts taken. It was completely destitute.

“Ah… if it isn’t the Redcolts.” A voice echoed from the catwalks. My whole squad and I flashed our lights up to the origin, finding a single stallion. He had a pale blue coat, and bright yellow eyes. A green, stylishly messy undercut mane, swept to one side. He had bits of metal stuck in his face, accentuating his sharp features. And he had a false leg. One of his back legs, the right one, from the mid-haunch down was replaced with a clawed contraption. “And the biggest boy of all of ‘em no less. Chocolate Pennyroyal…” He smiled, showing off gold and silver teeth mixed with natural yellow teeth. His smile was uneven, like it was mixed with another emotion.

“Do I know you, asshole?” I barked up to him, readying my axe to be thrown.

He chuckles, “No. But your daddy might.” He leans on the catwalk railing, continuing to smirk. “Oh where are my manners? The name’s Cold Crank. Most of my boys call me ‘Cranky’. Though…I consider myself anything but.”

“What’s your game, Cranky?” I asked, glancing at my squad members, before looking back at him.

He shrugged slightly, unfolding a wing from the darkness to reveal himself a pegasus. It held a cigarette between the feathers, which he placed on his lips. Then, raising a forehoof, a device strapped around it sparked, and created a small, controlled flame, lighting the end. “My ‘game’ is that I’m one of the best robotics engineers around. And your daddy pissed me off recently.” He takes a long drag, before puffing smoke out of his nose like a dragon. “I was gonna kill you as soon as you stepped hoof in here. But…I can tell you’re different.“

“Different?” I squinted.

“Mmhmm!” He nods, puffing again, “Even from your clan members. Even the weakest one there has this psychopathic look in his eyes, if you look deep enough. I’m good at reading ponies, and I can tell they all loooooove killing. Take pride in it. Joy, even. But you, Chocco? Not the same way they do.”

I felt my heart pound in my chest, baring my teeth. Even if it was true, the clan couldn’t know. Weakness, especially weakness like that, was justification for execution. There was no tolerance for empathy amongst the clan. It was kill or be killed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh?” He snickers, “I don’t? Well then I won’t do the talking. These will.” Cranky stands on his hind legs, opening up his long, dark coat. Dozens of little glowing lenses all focused lights onto the walls, playing the same video all at the same time. A video from one of our recent raids. From the perspective of somepony that was in their home.

A father and daughter, sitting with their Assaultron. The pony-shaped robot pointing its guns at the door as screams can be heard outside. Then, my eyes peer in through their doorway. “INTRUDER-” The assaultron roars, but I put a hoof over my mouth, gesturing for it to be quiet. Its laser ceases its charging, and it looks over to its owners.

“Go out the back, their attention is drawn from that angle.” My voice echoed through their home. “Leave now, please. While you can.”

The video pauses, and Cranky snickers. “Those three came and found me. Told me about their… unlikely savior.”

High Hall aims his rifle at me, and I can hear the safety click. “What the fuck was that?! You saved those ponies? What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Hall. Put your fucking gun down before I shove it so far up your ass, I give it a brand new burial wrap just in time for your fucking funeral.” I slowly turned my head, narrowing my eyes on him.

Longswipe shook his head. “This is… unbelievable. How…?”

“Cripps ain’t gonna be happy when he hears about this.” Springload, the other unicorn of the group adds, using his yellow magic to withdraw a chainsword. “Longswipe, make for camp, now. Leave. We’ll subdue him.”

“You’ll betray me?? Just like that?!” I shouted, backing into a combat position. “How dare you?!”

Longswipe made a break for the exit, Hall and Spring both training their weapons on me. However, as soon as he gets to the door, I watch as he stops in place. He looks around for a moment, then attempts to go through the open double doors. Something cuts through the air. A tail, or a whip, with a bladed edge, from seemingly nowhere in the darkness of the warehouse. And it cuts his head clean off. So cleanly, he stands stone still for a few seconds, before blood begins to spill down his neck, and he collapses. His head rolled away from his corpse.

My face twisted into an expression of horror. Springload glanced over at Hall, not daring to take his eyes off me for more than a second. “What happened?”

“I dunno! I wasn’t watching!” Hall snaps.

Cranky laughs, shaking his head. “Oh you poor, savage morons.” All three of us snap our attention to him. “Only Chocco saw it, because he was the only one who cared to pay attention to anything. We all stand in a room with a highly experimental robot from the war.” He smiles, “Something they liked to call the ‘Apex’, or the ‘Stealth Assaultron’. It has cloaking technology, thermal vision, in-built electromagnetic pulse ampules, blades sharp enough to cut through 4-hoof thick steel doors, and worst of all? High-tuned rotors. Meaning it can move faster than anypony can aim. I put a surprise in there. Only one of you is walking out of this room, and I already know who it is. Prove me right, Chocco.”

“Prove you right how?? What do you want from me?!” I snap, but I don’t get an answer. The roboticist raises his wings, and with a single flap, disappears in a gust of wind.

Hall keeps his gun trained on me, Springload keeps me from moving anywhere. “You ain’t going fuckin’ anywhere. Move and you’re dead.”

I shook my head, scowling disapprovingly at the two of them. “You two make me fucking sick. So quick to believe the words of a strange pony, just so you can kill me! Sounds like the actions of a jealous worm. Sounds like you simply wish to take my place, no matter what it costs you. Longswipe is already dead. Are you really gonna keep playing this stupid game? Or are you gonna grow up and realize we don’t have time for this?”

The sound of metal skittering against metal can be heard through the warehouse, moving over the three of us. “Springload?? What are we gonna do?” Hall asks, looking up at the rafters while he keeps the barrel angled on my head.

“We’ll kill him and then take our leave, Hall. Chill the fuck out.” His chainsword hovers just under my chin, but I don’t move an inch. I don’t flinch. I don’t shake. I don’t even look away. He revs the sword, smiling. “I always thought you were soft anyway.”

I hear the stealth assaultron clamber on the rafters above me. Then, shaking my head, I make my decision. “I always wanted to fucking kill you from the second I laid eyes on you, Springload.” I throw my axe using my magic, nailing Hall in the haunch. He screams and fires wildly up at the rafters, hitting the assaultron. As a consequence, it swoops down, nearly slashing through Springload, who ducks. His break of concentration is enough for me to take control of the chainsword. Feeling my magic overtake his, I jump forwards, grabbing and swinging the blade. It buries itself right in the thick of his neck, spraying blood everywhere as it begins to saw right through.

Tackling him as vitae spurts all over the ground, I roll onto my back, bucking him into the air. The assaultron comes back around, its tail-blade whirring through the air as it slices right through his abdomen like a hot knife through butter. As his two halves fall to the floor, Hall stands up on his hind legs, aiming his rifle at me. Reflexively, my magic grips the axe handle, and yanks. It’s stuck in his leg, half-cut through the bone. But it works in my favor. The jolt of pain offsets his aim, firing just past my head. My ears ring, and I roll up, springing off my back legs. The recovery causes me to leap forwards, knocking our shoulders together, and destroying his proper grip around the rifle. I flop against the floor, pulling the axe out of his leg. As soon as I do so, I hear a sickening snap, the weakened haunch snapping under his weight.

He screams, but uses his rifle to catch himself before he falls. As I rear the axe back for another attack, and he tries to raise the rifle for a moment, something stops him. The tail blade, right through his chest, lifting him into the air. He gasped, dropping the rifle as his rear legs kicked, spitting blood out of his mouth. Then, he was thrown aside, crumpled onto the ground like trash. I immediately scramble to my hooves, panting as I look around the room, feeling my heart slam against my chest. I could hear it moving around, its metal hooves clicking against the floor. Huffing nervously, I backed away slowly, before I heard it rush me. I raised my axe, ready to defend myself.

It appeared right in front of me, its faux snout nearly touching mine. The robot’s eyes darted around before they locked onto me, the tail blade pressed under my chin. But it did not attack. We stood there, locked in a self-defensive stalemate. Then, it spoke. “You do not try to attack me. Why?”

“Because I know I’d lose. I’m not stupid.” I lied.

“Valid answer.” Its tail blade retracts, and it spits something out from its chest. A small disc-like device. “Three days and the beacon will activate. Follow it.” Its voice suddenly shifts to Cranky’s. “Nice job, Chopper. Eheheheh.” Then, it sprints out of the warehouse in a blur, leaving me be. “Chopper”. I kinda liked that.

Making my way over to High Hall, I stare down at him as he slowly bleeds out on the floor. His leaking crimson gets on my hooves, leaving a slick puddle on the cold concrete. “Cripps… is gonna kill you when he finds out.” He coughs, blood leaking from his nose and mouth.

“Not if I kill him first.” I retort, snorting.

He lets out a wheezy laugh. “You…don’t have the balls.”

Raising my right forehoof, the blades on my leg extend into three jagged claws, gleaming in the low light. “Don’t worry. You’ll find out once you meet him in the depths of hell. Don’t wait for me.” Then, I bring the claws down on his head, impaling them straight through his skull. He lets out one last pathetic gurgle as I strike his brain, freezing up, before falling limp. The claws retract, dripping with blood and brain matter. “You were never of any real use to me anyway.”

PREVIOUS | FIRST | NEXT

[disneytva]

Jon Favreau's "Oswald The Lucky Rabbit" Series Moving Forward At Disney+, Sets Lead Cast For The Live-Action/ Animated Hybrid Series

What a lucky day! DEADLINE has confirmed that Jon Favreau's "Oswald The Lucky Rabbit" is moving forward at Disney+ by revealing it's core lead cast.

Ravi Cabot-Conyers (Lucasfilm "Skeleton Crew", Walt Disney Animation Studios "Encanto" franchsie.)

Mykal-Michelle Harris (Disney Television Animation "Ariel", It's A Laugh Productions "Ravens Home")

Ryder Allen (HBO "The Penguin")

According to DEADLINE, Cabot-Conyers will play Jake, a hardworking middle school student with a big heart. Harris will play Jen, an artistic middle schooler who is always ahead of the game. Allen will play Taylor, a middle school student who is cautious but avoids turning down his friends.

The animation/live action hybrid is about Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, a saucy, self-absorbed bunny. Jon Favreau (Marvel Studios "Iron-Man" franchise, Lucasfilm "The Mandalorian & Grogu", Walt Disney Studios "The Lion King") is writing and producing the project from Walt Disney Studios. The series is being described as a animation/live-action hybrid similar to “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?”, “Chip n´ Dale: Rescue Rangers” (2022) and the axed HBO Max series “Tooned Out” and “Tweety Mysteries”.

[txtmetonight]

Revelation ✆

call summary ⋆ ★ When a date gone wrong...goes right!

pairing *. * Yang Jeongin x Fem! Reader (ft. Hwang Hyunjin)

genre⋆ ★ Fluff

warnings *. Mentions of blood and violence, crude language

call duration⋆ ★ 1.9k

a/n*. * I feel bad for not working on my other works but then again I realize I'm doing this for free out of my own enjoyment so... I hope you enjoy it!! Also, look out for the little surprise at the end ><

taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet

Dating apps suck, everyone knows that.

Jeongin knows that too, but you find it ironic that you both found each other on a matchmaking platform but as best friends. You two had too much in common to continue anything further than friendship.

But as of right now as you stare out of the window of your car (parked in a five-star restaurant for your date) you think of it as a mistake. You know it’s a mistake.

Yet you still proceed with hiding your feelings and push past the negative overtone with dating apps (due to the whimsical horror stories that each app gains) to find your next person.

The new one that would bring feelings of elation. And usually, when you find a decent human being, they do give you sweet joy! But only for a short while until you’re back on the hunt again.

“I can’t believe you found another person that quick,” Jeongin sighs. He sits in the driver’s seat and fiddles with the radio until he finds something that he likes.

You give him a quick queasy grin and settle into your seat. Your date said that he was going to be there at six. The clock currently reads five fifty-seven.

“Well…I like to keep my options open.” He rolls his eyes at your words and places something in your pocket. When you pull it out, you notice that it is your favorite candy, the one that you keep with you on every date to help calm you down. He must've noticed that you were running out.

"I love you what the fuck"

“Yeah yeah, I know, I love you too." You give him a crinkled smile. "But be careful because one of those ‘options’ could actually an axe murderer and the next thing I know is that you’re found in a ditch. Dead. And you’re suddenly on a true crime podcast.”

You snort at his words, heart in your throat when he gives you a cheesy smile and unlocks the door so you can get out. You wish to stay, though.

“You’re being dramatic, Jeongin. Plus, this Hyunjin guy seems nice. What guy with a dog named Kkami sounds like he would kill someone?”

“You would never know.” He shrugs his shoulders and suddenly leans a little forward to wipe away at the corner of your lips and you feel your cheeks tremendously heat up.

You’re lucky that it’s getting dark to see the way that your eyes dart to his lips. When he pulls back, you try not to scamper over to his warmth; missing the touch it left on you.

“But anyways, you know the drill. Call me if he gets weird or if you’re done. I have to go pick something up, so I’ll be in the place,” Jeongin drawls as you get out of the car. He slowly rolls down the windows when you wave at him.

“Sure thing. Don’t miss me.”

He chuckles and pulls out of the parking lot, leaving you alone with a huff of your breath. And then you turn towards the towering restaurant with thoughts of regret.

You’re tired of pretending and you’re tired of going on meaningless dates. And with all honesty, deep down in your heart, you do this to make him potentially jealous. Does it work? You don’t know.

You just want to be with the one you want and get what you crave, differently

You’re right. And Jeongin is…probably, ninety-five percent wrong. Maybe your date is a killer, and you don’t know yet. But Hyunjin is a nice guy and he’s sweet as honey.

He’s sickeningly handsome too, right up your alley but he doesn’t bring that same spark that Jeongin does, so you feel bad as he pours you another drink. You still let yourself indulge in some of his flirty gestures though; they’re kind of cute–really.

“Do you have any hobbies?” He asks, cutting up his (your) lamb chops. You two are playing a classic game of twenty questions but with a twist. If you two have anything remotely similar, you both switch meals.

It’s quite fun and you’ve taken two bites of Hyunjin’s chicken piccata, not counting the one that you shovel into your mouth as his eyes glint at you.

It churns your stomach when you realize that you only see Jeongin’s twinkle in your mind. You’ve fallen bad. Horribly bad.

“Uhh,” You think, “Art. I do a lot of visual art–all kinds I suppose.”

He seems to light up at your words. “Really! Me too!” He takes a small pause. “Maybe you can show me one day.”

“For sure.” You laugh at his excitement finding it endearing. You then gesture to take back your plate. It goes slowly dwindles down; the eagerness and it becomes a little suffocating as you try to think of a question to ask the man in front of you.

Hyunjin who you see doesn’t really mind, picks up the atmosphere immediately and excuses himself to go to the bathroom. A waiter comes by in the meanwhile and fills up his drink, placing a lemon on the top.

Staring at the fruit, dazed and in thought that’s when you recognize that even though Hyunjin was a great man, maybe you should put the date to a stop and apologize.

You felt bad that it was going to be another failed date and that you were going to go home without your feelings sorted and a semi-broken heart.

Your heart aches in a familiar sense as you pull out your phone to text him to pick you up soon.

[You] heyy can you come pick me up???

[Partner in crime] sure, i’m already here. did he do something weird?

[You] nah, he’s sweet. he’s just not my type ig

[Partner in crime] mmmmm ok. does he look as good as he does in his pfp?

[You] why?? are you jealous?

[Partner in crime] …

[Partner in crime] maybe

You’re about to respond to his cryptic texts, your thumbs ready to get sore but Hyunjin suddenly sits down in his seat, and you’re forced to put down your phone.

He takes another bite of his food, finishing it off with a sip of his drink, which he quickly cringes. He quietly tells you that the lemon was too sour for his taste. Meanwhile, you try to open your mouth to say something, but he quickly beats you to it.

“This isn’t working, is it?”

Your eyes widen and your apologetically twist your lips to the side, nodding nervously. Yet he just smiles at your assent and calls for a check.

“I’m sorry. I just…I currently have someone else that I have in mind. You didn’t do anything.”

He just shakes his head. “It’s fine–really. I kind of knew from the start, it’s sort of obvious.” Hyunjin takes a winding sigh as he pays for your meals (you try to refuse but you find him stupidly stubborn).

“Who ‘s the lucky guy though?” He questions, taking your hand so he can help you up before he places a chaste, friendly kiss on the back. You flush a little at his gesture. God, you wish that you didn’t meet him. You feel terrible.

“My friend.”

“I see. How about this? If I walk you to your car right now, you’ll ask him out on a date.” He boasts and you giggle. You accept his preposition, gaining courage from Jeongin’s texts from earlier and let him open the door for you.

You spot Jeongin’s car in the deserted parking lot and point your finger at the black sedan.

On the walk there, you learn a little more about your date and his horrible pick-up confession advice. It’s so stupid that he stumbles around a little because of both of your laughter.

He pushes you when he trips over a well-seen rock like it was your fault that you placed it there and you giggle. He was probably the best date you've had from this app before (excluding Jeongin).

When you get to a respectable distance, you notice that Jeongin isn’t in the car. You suppose that it was so Hyunjin didn’t think you were going home with another man. And even if your date already knew the truth you were grateful that you could have your last words with the man.

Turning around to face him, you smile.

“I’m so sorry Hyunjin.”

His eyebrows furrow and he wobbles a little in his spot, swaying with the wind.

“You…you’ve already apologized. Why are you doing it again?”

You take a step back. “I’m sorry.”

You suppose that you half-heartedly are remorseful because Hyunjin’s an amazing person and you gave him up.

But really aren’t when Jeongin smashes into his face with a wooden bat, splashing blood onto your clothes. Hyunjin falls to the ground, and you grin back at your lover before you both drag the body into the backseat of the car. A bottle of pills in your pocket sears into your skin as you pass the sour drug back to Jeongin.

You two had too much in common; you both met with each other with the same plans unknowingly. You both shared the art of jubilation and the fascination of the dead. Too alike.

But as you stare at him you realize how much you two aren’t. He likes fried chicken. You like it spicy. Jeongin loves the cold, you like it warm.

Yet what makes your heart thrum more is that he takes care of you so charmingly it makes you sick.

He wipes the bodily fluids off you when they splatter, runs you a hot bath after your escapades, and makes sure you eat when you can’t make yourself to. You love him, you really do.

‘Another dead body discovered found off a highway just now…more reports coming to you soon’

The radio buzzes lowly in the background but you don’t pay attention. You only regard Jeongin. The lingering smell of metal wafts through the vehicle even though you already disposed of the body just moments before in a ditch.

You did it together and now you find the bravery that Hyunjin gave you earlier once again.

“Did you make sure to delete the footage?” You start off saying and he gives you a playful glare as if he was offended.

“Of course I did. I was able to get rid of a whole week of film and I even parked in a blind spot when you got him out. Just to make sure.”

You sigh and pull out your phone. It glints off the blood on your face.

“You’re really fucking amazing.”

“I know.” He speaks. You tap him on the shoulder, and he slows down the car a little to face you. Jeongin grins when you pull up your texts with each other.

“What did you mean when you said that you were jealous?”

“Exactly what you think I meant.”

Clicking your tongue, you softly push him. You try to think of what to say because the words of your confession are in your throat and they burn as you try to express your feelings coolly, but Jeongin all of a sudden stops the car and turns off the headlights.

He grabs your hand and interlocks it with his, fingers pressing into your skin, sending goosebumps up your arm.

“What the hell Yang Jeongi–”

He kisses you. And you immediately reciprocate with your bloody hands on his cheeks, staining his skin with the ruby smears. This only pulls him closer towards you as you pull apart for air, just for him to close the gap again.

This time the kiss is sweeter, and you feel the love coursing between your veins. The rush of energy you look for is right here in your arms.

“I love you,” He whispers. Your lover nuzzles into your hands.

“Yeah? Me too.” You kiss his cheek. “But why so suddenly?”

“I didn’t like you with Hyunjin. I actually don’t like you going on dates anymore–I never have. You might leave me if you find someone better.”

You scoff, “Like I would. Don’t worry, you have all of me, Innie.” He stares at you in silence, and you can see the admiration swirling in his eyes.

“All of you?” He squeezes your arm three times and rubs at your lips, where some of the blood collects.

“Always have.”

He kisses you again.

[ltwilliammowett]

Can you do a short term list for us in a funny way?

Welcome my dear newcomers aboard HMS Surprise. You have been exclusively selected ( or gently beaten up and dragged here) to join us on our South America tour. I promise you excitement, sleepless nights, beautiful scenery, storms, sunburn, no water and a bloody French…. oops I mean great adventure. To help you find your way around on board, here's a short list of important terms.

Landlubber - you, if you need this list - speak a non-sailor who simply has no idea about being a sailor.

Ship - your new workplace - this wooden lady is now your everything and treat her well, she is your life insurance to get you home safely. But be careful, she is very headstrong and if you want to tell me now that she is just an object, you thought wrong. She is very much a living individual and she will make you feel that.

The rigging - that sort of spider's nest above you - is there to operate the sails. Look forward to getting to know the ropes very well.

Sails - those cloth rags hanging from the thick wooden poles. They are used for locomotion and are not blankets.

Wheel - this strange wooden wheel with spikes on it - no, it is not an instrument of torture, but is used for steering.

Anchor - heavy, made of iron and keeps our lady in place.

Compass - this strange thing that lives in a box and is constantly moving back and forth. To cut a long story short: You know which way is north and you can keep your course. You'll soon know it by heart.

Captain - Boss

1st Lieutenant - Second boss and the one who can really fuck you up if he wants to. Get in good line and please don't suck up to him. But he is the one who puts you in everything, be it ward, mess, hammock, etc.

2.nd. Lieutenant - me and I too can make you uncomfortable.

Master - knows where the sails hang and what course to set. Takes just a little more work off the boss.

Purser - is responsible for your food rations, but will also try to get you to buy something from him to make life on board a little easier. Don't do this, he's quite expensive.

Sailor - Your new colleagues, and depending on their years of service, they will know how to handle that wooden lady, how to set the sails and so on. You'll learn it too.

Old Salt - an experienced old sailor, stick with him if you want to learn and he is willing to share his knowledge.

Surgeon - the name says it all. We have a good one on board, be lucky. And if you're lucky, you'll come home with all your body parts.

Midshipmen - mini officers who still need to learn. They can be quite demanding and annoying, especially when many of them are still very young. But don't be surprised if a 12-year-old gives you orders, he's allowed to.

Mess - the place where you eat

Cannon - heavy, iron, dirty, hot and with a loud bang. Used to stop the enemy or inflict serious damage. Keep your limbs to yourself and only follow the instructions of those who know what to do with them. Otherwise you will only injure yourself unnecessarily.

Cannonball - heavy, made of stone or iron. Come into the cannon and please do not trip over it.

Admiral - comes along sometimes. Is the boss of the boss

Hammock - your bed, but don't get too comfortable in it because you won't get much sleep anyway.

Rum - elixir of life, next to coffee

Powder monkeys - yes, they are children, but they know what to do and you can learn something from them too.

Boatswain - also called Bosun, he whistles the orders and drives you to work. He is also your wake-up call.

Marine - our sea soldiers, there aren't very many of them, but the few that there are are fine. They are there for the safety on board.

Cutlasses, muskets, grenades, axes, etc. - makes autsch, hopefully not with you. You will learn to handle them.

Cook - as the name suggests, and yes, having only one leg is normal.

Quarterdeck - not your dance area, that's the officers' area, you're only allowed there if your duty requires it.

Wardroom - also not your area. This is where we officers live and have some privacy.

Great Cabin - living and working area of the captain (you remember? - boss).

Gun deck - remember those big black things that bang loudly? they live here.

Berth deck - this is where you live, sleep and eat. Don't worry, it doesn't get cold there, you share the space with about 170 men.

Well, there is more, but I think that should be enough to start with. The rest will come naturally later. Don't stress about it and I think you will enjoy next year by the sea so much that you will want to come back.

[kit-williams]

Cuckoo Anon

Oh you bet your Chain Axe I Do! Had to stop last night because tired but I've got pretty good ideas for some other legions reactions to getting yoinked from their original timeline.

Disclaimer: Apologies if your fav legion doesn't appear here I only know enough about so many of them.

Word Bearers - Another group that's more Aware that the warp has something to do with this, though less able to actively affect it than say the Thousand Sons. Definitely in the group that Wants to establish contact with their original timeline because there's so many souls here in need of the warp's guidance. Until they're able to do that, they spend there time pouring over the various religious texts available here. Would speak up at a theology lecture to correct the speaker about the details of certain figures that they've actually met in their original timeline. Example: Nurgle. They also enjoy yoga for its meditative quality, though its less enjoyable for even the most yoga obsessed humans. The Word Bearers pair yoga with dark ritualistic chanting. Even in Gothic the humans recognize the words are...a bit unsettling.

Rating: Suddenly finding yourself running a...more intense version of a Bible camp as your Word Bearer instructs his group on the proper alignment of ritual circles with the Stars for their next venture. You just hope none of these will ever involve blood sacrifices.

War Hounds/World Eaters - Cut from the same cloth, even stitched with the same pins. Like the Iron Warriors these guys are actually Thriving (as much as they can) in this new environment. You'd think with everything being softened and pacified by the warp they'd go raving mad. But no, because that includes their nails and bloodlust. The nails still hurt, but its like a toothache most days compared to feeling like your brain is being stabbed. And they still crave battle, but there's sparring arenas and Astarte focused gyms in practically every city and marine base here. Plus the occasional chance to Really let loose on some human killer warbands. And if a Marine is sick of their nails completely they can be Removed! The instrument of their torment can be done away with (Chronic pain and migraines remain for most of them but again, far less pain than once was). This new clarity gives them room to reflect. The empire and chaos only found them useful when they were Hurting and Angry constantly. They were never allowed to be anything else. But with the humans here, especially with bonds that can sooth the nails completely, they finally can just....be.

Rating: Laying your head across your bonded humans lap with a fire crackling on a cold night. The scars from the nails twinge for a moment, causing you to hiss. Until your human coos, brushing the hair from your forehead, and at once the pain cools to nothing. You settle, not sure if you deserve this but decide you will accept it. You lean into your humans touch. You are both content.

Space Wolves - If War Hounds are the abused pups learning to love again, Space Wolves are the...Wolves learning to trust/work with humans for the first time. Space Wolves had interactions with humans in their timeline, but only those on their own planet would treat them like normal people. Everywhere else humans saw them as the Emperors Angels. Dangerous and Untouchable. So to have these humans approach them like neither of those groups kinda throws them off. They're not Afraid of them in a broad sense, but they're also not familiar enough yet. The two are finding their footing with eachother. Having a dog gets immediate points with a Space Wolf, they love pups. All shapes and kinds but they obvious lean towards more wolf like breeds. By the same token Space Wolves don't tolerate animal abuse. Any marine type Might decide to kill an animal abuser, a Space Wolf won't hesitate. If you're lucky they'll just steal neglected animals and leave the abuser with some property damage. At worst well...you get the idea.

Rating: Opening up that animal rehab shelter you've always wanted to Not because you thought you were finally  ready...but because your Space Wolf keeps bringing home strays, and neglected animals. But hey, seeing your big guy happily laying in a swarm of pups makes it all worth it. And the time you saw him literally send an abusive owner flying into your trash can for trying to take their dog back.

Death Guard - Weird idea, but they're doing okay. It's just that most of them are feral by choice rather than the Alpha legion's situation. The warp may make their haze of rot less dangerous here, but being near one is still Alot for an average human. Also the cities don't have enough Greenery. So the ferals stick to the forests and overgrown areas. Their presence boosts the cycles of life and decay, and they actually Clean!?!? Well yes, the litter and plastic trash, anything biodegradable can stay...or gets eaten. Yep I see Death Guard as the vultures or millipedes of space marines. They can eat Anything organic, and they enjoy the more fetid pieces. Many humans have been startled to find their garbage being raided after some spoiled leftovers were thrown out. And as far as personality goes they're actually pretty gentle. They see no reason to attack humans, they're natural miasma is still imparting the gifts of Nurgle occasionally so why bother? If a Death Guard bonds to a human that bond is deep and loving. The bond also helps their human resist their smell, and makes the human stronger against the illness miasma. Its not a perfect defense, energy still gets drained, but your Death Guard will always be there to lend a hand, claw, bone growth to help when you need it.

Rating: Hiking through the forest, and suddenly catching an awful smell. Your curiosity bids you follow it, lest it be a hiker that met an ill fate. As you get closer the greenery around you seems to grow larger, and more beautiful with every step. Literally bursting with life. You come to a small open area beneath the trees. The smell is strongest here, and you see a large misshapen green body. It raises its cupped hands, that hold something you can't identify, to a branch. A flower bud slowly opens to full and....a Butterfly flits to the new bloom from his palms. You stand in awe. The shape turns as you watch from behind a tree, your eyes meet through his helmet. You just...stare at eachother. And though you don't notice at the time, the scent no longer has presence in your mind.

Alpha Legion - (Only fitting that I finish off with the legion that gave me my name.) So honestly...kinda struggling. These fellas are so used to spying, and secrecy and playing games of 12D chess (even though doing that wasn't the best choice to begin with but I digress) and now they've been dropped in a place that has...none of that?? They're separated from their spy networks, no matter what side of their Timeline they were fighting on they only really have eachother now. The other legions are Very unwilling to trust them for obvious reasons. And they have a shit time making bonds with humans. Like seriously, f their lives right up. Like at least when they were just a cog in a clusterfuck of war, alliances, battles and betrayals, they didn't have to think and reflect about how Lonely they actually are. But...on the other hand, they're free to do as they please here. Sure the other marines are wary of them, but as long as they don't outright start shit things can go on tense but peaceful. Occasionally snatching some affection while disguised is okay, but still...they want something real. And when they do get that, whether the bond is truly like their fellow marines or slightly different, they Don't let go.

Rating: You came home to an Ultramarine in your house, only it didn't really...act like an ultra marine? It took no interest when you showed it your excel documents, didn't try to organize anything, and shied away from conversing with other loyalists. He Did help you out around the house, and was exceptionally affectionate. Most marines were some flavor of touch starved (except maybe Salamanders), but this seemed excessive. Then one night you woke up, and heard hushed but intense whispering. You peaked out of your bedroom to see your Ultramarine conversing with....himself!? Your eyes did not deceive, and your ears did not lie. Same voice, same armor, down to the same scratches and battle damage...but that was impossible! Your musings were interrupted by one of them getting louder.

"It is still My turn with the mortal!"

"You expanded your timetable in the schedule. That is Unfair brother, and you know it."

"This is not up for discussion, and You cannot be here right now! Do you want us to be thrown out completely!?"

"Maybe if we were simply Honest with them we wouldn't have to worry about that, but You insisted we stick to this charade. Well I'm SICK of it!" The ultra on the right lost his composure, and his form phased and shifted. Royal blue became teal and the helmet shifted to a form more resembling an octopus. An Alpha Legion marine...but that would mean...

The one you assumed to be Your marine spoke up. "Enough! I will not tolerate your insubordination! Leave now!"

The newly shifted marine stood his ground and sneered. "Why don't you Make me brother?!"

"Or you could....Both stay?" The two marines whipped their heads to face you. You stood in your pajamas, as the two armored marines stared in stunned silence.

"I...can explain." Your marine started, but you held up your hand.

"Its okay," You assured him, crossing the distance so you could look him in the eye.  "We do need to talk things over but...I think I understand why you felt you needed to do this." You turned to his brother. " Should've let me know we were having company. I think we could all use some hot chocolate."

Your second space marine perked up. "I hope you have enough supplies for us all."

"Two space marines and a human you mean?"

"Weeeeeell...." Knock, knock, knock. You turned to the door, and your space marine let his disguise shed as he reached for the handle. The door opened to reveal...1,2,3,4...yeah you were gonna need more hot chocolate.

Love these I really do you're making me blush

[faux-parenchyma]

I don’t know about WANTING to sniff them (cause most of them are sweating as fuck by now) but I do think clown pierce would smell faintly of popcorn/cotton candy and hannah would smell like iron and flowers

Just because YOU don’t want to sniff them doesn’t mean I don’t want to /j.

But uhhh anyway nullosniffs TM where I basically assign perfumes to MCYT characters, but this time it's the Realm SMP, send asks for more characters and I'll get to it of course- more under the cut..

[part 1/?]

[bonus: if anyone wants more perfume rambles specifically- character wise or not, my sideblog is now up, called @null0sniffs ]

Clownpierce: You can definitely always tell when Clown is in the area because it smells like you’re straight up getting transported into a carnival. Like you said, the sickeningly sweet and buttery scents of a kettle corn, cotton candy, funnel cake, etc. I’m sure, from a distance, SOME people may find it nice, albeit a bit too indulgent, though most would just stand confused and wondering where the hell it’s wafting from- where HE is coming from. The closer he gets, the stronger the smell is, and some new notes begin to unfurl underneath: something undeniably strange. Not that you'd be able to tell until he's right behind you- CFGHVJB

I think Clown fits ‘Foxcroft Fairgrounds’ by Solstice Scents really well. Solstice describes this particular scent as an 'olfactory kaleidoscope,' which is most certainly telling of how the perceptions of him shift and change throughout the server. It starts similarly with its sweet cotton candy and cream soda, brushed gently in passing by a carousel of buttery confectionaries. In the Kingdom of Fools these notes gather, twisting and contorting along as you get closer to the territory.

When put in his presence, it starts to feel like the more complex sugar is being melted away- replaced instead with a woodfirey, burnt sugar, the smoke rising and billowing into the surrounding clear air [very nether, huh.] Whether or not you are on good terms will decide if this abundantly sweet smoke suffocates. And- if you are lucky enough [alive lol] to see him enchant, you may catch a faint scent of burning incense- the tendrils wrapping and twisting against his magic. The enchanted armor given away will also smell a similar smoky-sweet.

There is a section of reviews for this fragrance have said they find it overwhelmingly smoky or alternatively unpleasantly sweet, which I think will become more and more relevant as clown makes more enemies.

Hannahxxrose: SHOUT OUT FREAKY GNOMES,, where the kingdom stands heavy and heady, she stands in opposition, the scent of soil on skin and the song of a blade not yet sung. Naturally, like the name, shes always going to have her roses, thats a given- though I definitely think there's something fresher about the combination of her florals and her weaponry. A very slight sweetness takes shape that you wouldn’t necessarily expect from a ‘gnome’ that would live specifically *deep* within the earth. I think she tends to spend her time above more, connecting with her land and [more importantly] watching out for both her allies and enemies, and that ultimately reflects how she smells.

I’m going to have to go with the [now discontinued] ‘Shield Maiden’ by Poesie, a woody, clean-yet-dirty fragrance that melds her personal scent with her environment, its literally perfect. Wild rose and peony growing in a breezy, chill forest, shadowed by the great pines. A cold metal axe rests at the base of one of these trees, head digging in and exposing the dirt below. A lot of people have described that clean-and-dirty fragrance to be sort of odd, which considering her and her motives/alignments, that is a good type of odd.

As you get closer to Hannah, the sweetness from her flowers is cut in two by the sharp metallic scent of weapons and armor [biased to giving her pretty and awesome armor all knight-like sorryyy]- only for that to be emanated by the cold air. You can tell when she's been outside for longer periods of time as well, because then she begins to take on some of those more woody, almost green scents, and the armor even starts to become muddied up by the soil from her working hands. I can only imagine how the cold metallic fragrance shifts pungent when she needs to utilize her fighting prowess... kill a few kingsmen 

I also do think, just as a fun addition, her roses become much more fragrant depending on her health as well! Just because they need energy to grow!!

[heavy-swing]

Breakout

Aurienne de Lanencourt is dragged in on charges of heresy, and decides to confront them head-on (that is, by running away).

As I mentioned in my previous post, I've had Aurienne trapped in my brain for a long time, so I'd decided to write a bit of her backstory to help give her a bit of form in the world, and now that you all have seen her, it's only fair you can now read a bit about her too!

I do intend to fill in both some earlier details about her past as well as some later stuff about how she fits into Aelita's journey, but for now, I offer this.

You can check it out on AO3 or read below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63373978

“Ser Aurienne de Lanencourt! You have been charged with the crime of fomenting heresy and aiding and abetting heretics! What have you to say in your defense?”

Aurienne dignified the clergy presiding over the proceedings with nothing save for a cold stare.

“I invoke my right to trial by combat.”

“Very well! You will be held until the morrow, at which time you and the accuser shall fight until yielding. Under the watchful gaze of Halone, the victor’s claim shall be judged to be in the right.” The magistrate looked up from his notes. “Is that clear?”

A stone-faced nod is all he got in return.

“So be it! Dismissed.”

At the sound of a gavel, she felt one of the guards flanking her push her in the direction of the exit, back towards the gaol. She remained silent as she walked, not wishing to draw any more attention to what she was planning.

The guards escorted her out of the courtroom and down a flight of stone steps, and along a lengthy hallway. At its end was a storage area and guard room of sorts, where the seized weapons of those held awaiting their chance to fight for freedom were kept, with two more paths branching out from that towards the cells.

As they approached this storage room, she eyed her own axe and armor, up against one of the walls. She forced herself to look away, again trying to keep a low profile. I'll have them back soon enough, anyway.

The guards continued to march her down the right-hand hallway to her cell, which was mercifully unoccupied. She had heard reports about how overcrowded it got every time the Heaven's Ward made one of its periodic sweeps through the Brume, so she counted herself lucky she'd gotten caught when she did.

Her previous post had been Falcon’s Nest, patrolling the wasteland of the Coerthan highlands for heretics and dragons. That was what she was supposed to be doing, anyway.

She'd actually spent most of her time using “patrols” as a cover for running supplies from the Ishgardian outpost out to the various groups of so-called heretics– the people trying to survive out in the harsh conditions of the wilds without any of the admittedly meager luxuries the Ishgardian soldiers were afforded.

It wasn't helping to end the war, exactly, but she'd learned pretty quickly as she came up through the ranks of the knights that the war ending anytime soon was about as likely as a spring flower growing in the Highlands.

All it had taken was a couple of encounters with these people, described as vicious and brutal by her commander, for her to realize that they too were just fighting to survive. Fighting to be free of the ironically draconian state of Ishgard.

It started with a loaf of bread here, a box of medicine there, until it had grown to a regularly scheduled shipment of supplies that required a chocobo and cart to haul. Sneaking it out had been simple enough: she told anyone who stopped her that she was taking supplies out to the camps in the field, and the men stationed at the camps were so grateful to get any supplies at all that they didn't think twice about what might've been missing.

Unfortunately, her perfect plan couldn't stay perfect forever. One of the higher ups in Falcon's Nest had been gravely injured in a skirmish, and the person who'd replaced him was… a bit of a tight-arse. More stringent patrols, checking inventory counts, the works. She'd just started to figure out a new way to work around this system when one of the “heretics” she'd been meeting with suddenly approached a patrol she was a part of, clearly expecting supplies.

Before she could even attempt to communicate with the poor sod, to signal that maybe it wasn't the best idea to let her fellow guards know that they knew each other, he'd already called out to her. In the blink of an eye, he lay dead in the snow and she had two blades at her throat.

She was promptly taken back to Falcon's Nest in chains, and the rest was history.

Aurienne was shaken back to reality by the sound of the cell door closing behind her. She sat on the hard stone slab that resembled a bed, and let out a long exhale. Probably best to rest. I'll need every onze of strength for tomorrow. She lowered herself down onto her stone and pulled the sorry excuse for a blanket they'd given her over herself, trying her best to sleep while her mind began running through her plan.

—

She woke some time later, with only the sparsest hints of daylight filtering down from above as a clue that time had passed. She didn't stir, though. She knew it was better to wait.

She laid in silence for some time, until eventually she heard the sounds of the guards coming down the hall to retrieve her. They banged loudly on the bars, clearly thinking her still asleep. Time for a show.

She sat up slowly, trying her best to manage a facial expression at the intersection of confused and exhausted. “‘m up, y’don’t have to make all that racket.”

The guard in front didn't bother responding to her comment directly, though she could see that the one standing further back was laughing a little. Good.

“We've come to escort you to your trial, which will begin shortly. If you wish to retrieve your arms and armor before the fight, come with us.”

“Probably wouldn't stand a chance without it,” she replied, doing her best to make the outcome feel like a foregone conclusion. She walked to the door and watched as the lead guard unlocked it. She even waited patiently as they closed it behind her, and matched their pace as they escorted her back towards the makeshift armory, artificially wobbling and staggering a little for effect.

“You have a quarter bell to ready yourself, after which we will escort you to the arena. Try anything else and we will not hesitate to cut you down, heretic. Understand?”

Aurienne nodded, exaggerating it a bit to make herself look scared. Her mediocre acting wasn't likely to make a huge difference, but if it could get the guards to relax even just a little more than usual, then maybe she'd stand a chance.

She grabbed some of the pieces of her armor and started dressing herself, moving quickly to ensure she didn't have to leave anything behind. Leggings went on first, then her chainmail sabatons over top. She turned away from the guards as she traded the prison shirt for a thicker undershirt, trying to seem uncomfortable despite having done all of this hundreds of times. She hefted the chainmail haubergeon over her head, using gravity to help it slide down her arms and torso before putting on her gauntlets and tightening the straps to her liking.

Out of the corner of her eye, she began to notice that the guards were both paying her a bit more attention now that they'd watched her suit up. It seemed her old habits from years of service had reared their head, and now all three of them knew it. She picked up her helmet from the table, and as she stood back up to retrieve her axe from the far side of the room, she heard the jangling sound of what were probably shackles being readied to bind her wrists and ankles together. She walked to her axe and grabbed it from its place leaning up against a shelf, and feigned looking it over as she heard the chains and footsteps approaching from behind.

She took a deep breath, waiting until the noise got closer. Until he was right behind her. Right within range.

In a flash, she spun around, extending her arms to their full length as she swung the flat side of her axe directly at the guard’s head. A loud clang rang through the halls as he crumpled into a heap of chainmail and plate. His partner barely had time to draw his sword before she was upon him, closing the gap between them with a speed that was almost primal.

She swung her axe upward as she charged ahead, scraping it against the stone floor. Its handle met the guard's blade at an awkward angle; the force of the impact wrenched the sword from his grip and sent it flying across the room. Before he could cry for help, she followed her upswing with an overhead smash, once again choosing the flat side of the axe head to knock him out cold. He fell to his knees and then forward onto his face, the noise of his armor the last sound he made before the corridor was silent once more.

The quiet didn't last long. Aurienne heard the sounds of footsteps and shouting echoing through the halls, and she immediately took off in the direction that she was pretty sure led up to the surface.

The noise of the guards got a bit louder as she approached the staircase that had brought her down here the day before, but no one seemed to be onto her just yet. This was the point where she simply let her instincts carry her forward. She knew hesitating would be her undoing, which left surprise as her most effective strategy.

As she reached the top step, she pushed off and launched herself into the closed door that awaited her, shoulder first. The wood gave way to her momentum, the door itself separating from the latch and hinges in a shower of splinters. The noise of the impact echoed through the sentencing chambers, where the same priest from the day before was no doubt consigning some other poor bastard to death or imprisonment. All heads turned to the sound, but she paid them no mind as she charged forward, past the befuddled guards and straight across the room to the far door.

She crashed through that door, too, drawing more attention from the main atrium. It doesn't matter. Just keep running. She sprinted ahead, most of the onlookers jumping out of her way in surprise rather than attempting to apprehend her. In yet another stroke of luck, the main doors slowly eased open as she ran towards them, likely someone else entering or leaving. She took the opportunity and dashed past them and out into the cold air of Ishgard.

Down to the Steps now. You can outrun them.

She made a beeline for the lower parts of the city. The bridge connecting Ishgard with southern Coerthas was her goal, and if she got there before the reports of her escape did, then she'd be home free. She reached a familiar intersection, one she knew well from her youth and adolescence. A right turn here would lead back to the Lanencourt estate, back to her family, back to what used to be her home. She barely slowed down as she hung a left.

Aurienne tore past the lower entrance of the Forgotten Knight, taking a back street to avoid passing in front of the knight headquarters, only slowing down and shouldering her axe when she reached the aetheryte plaza.

As before, she heard commotion off in the distance from the districts above her, but it seemed word hadn't made it down to the front gate just yet. She took a deep breath, composed herself, and marched purposefully towards the gatehouse at the entrance to the Steps of Faith.

“State your name and business,” the guard called out to her, barely looking up from his paperwork.

“Ser Lanencourt, here on assignment to Camp Dragonhead.” She paused for a second before adding, “–On special request of Lord Haurchefant.” It was another long shot, but if anyone might have the heart to bail her out given her circumstances, it might be him. At least if the tales of his kindness were anything to go by.

“Don't see you on the list, you sure?”

“It was a last minute request, you can take it up with him yourself if you don't believe me.”

The guard sighed, clearly weighing the risk to his job against the hassle of sending someone to track down the man in charge of Camp Dragonhead.

“All right, go ahead. Don't cause any trouble, though.”

“I won't, sir.”

The gate in front of her swung open, and she strode through it at a brisk pace, not wishing to remain in such an exposed choke point for any longer than she needed to.

The wind howled as she crossed the bridge, one determined step after another. She tried not to think too much about what lay in her wake: the guards, the chaos, the broken doors; her family, their reputation surely dashed and left wondering what had become of her; those dead out in the snow because she wasn’t strong enough or clever enough to help them. She tried to force her wandering mind to focus instead on what lay ahead of her; where she might go, and what she might do once she got there.

Mercifully, the stone-walled isolationism of Ishgard would work to her benefit once she escaped its confines. She knew that the other city-states of Eorzea weren’t on friendly terms with Ishgard, so it was highly unlikely the Ishgardian soldiers would chase her past the borders of Coerthas. Once she was across that threshold, though, she grew less certain. What little she’d heard of Gridania’s views on outsiders wasn’t reassuring, not to mention the fact that the Lancer’s guild there apparently had some communication with the Ishgardian dragoons, so going there put her at risk of capture and extradition. Ul’dah didn’t really seem the place for her either: the climate alone was enough to put her off the idea, but she’d also heard rumors of a rapidly growing refugee crisis that she didn’t wish to add to.

That left Limsa Lominsa, across the Strait of Merlthor to the southwest.

Aurienne had never even seen the sea, let alone been on a boat, but what she’d gathered from the odd trader and traveler made it seem like a good place for someone to disappear. There was lots of work to be had from people who didn’t ask too many questions. And right about now, that was exactly what she needed.

She snapped back to her senses as the far gatehouse on the bridge seemed to suddenly appear in front of her, the gate itself swinging open as she approached. The guard there offered a silent nod, which she returned, trying to avoid direct eye contact should someone happen to recognize her.

Thankfully, no one had. Whatever commotion she'd left behind must have left the guards and knights scrambling to figure out where to start looking. That, or they were just really out of shape.

The thought of winded guards huffing and puffing as they ran after her brought a smirk to her face that was hidden from the world by her helmet.

She stepped off the bridge on the Coerthan side, from the hard stone onto the snow-covered roads that wound into the mountains and forest. The road on her left led to Camp Dragonhead, where she'd claimed to be going, but the last thing she wanted to do is be where they thought she would be when word eventually made it to the bridge. She turned right.

Aurienne trekked through Whitebrim, through the narrow rock of Daniffen Pass, and past the giant crater of red stone that bled through the snowfall on the far side. She constantly checked back over her shoulder and scanned the horizon ahead for any sign of people who might be hunting for her, but no one ever appeared. It was just her, the snow, and the forest, with the occasional wild beast for a bit of excitement.

She avoided taking the direct route into Gridania past the Observatorium, and opted instead for the southwestern path through the Hall of the Seven Echoes. She'd heard that it connected to a settlement called Revenant's Toll, and that it might be somewhere to figure out how to accomplish the next leg of her journey. As she took a determined first step into the narrow canyon, her stomach growled unceremoniously. Might also be a place to find some food.

[dareactions]

Been reading your reactions on your blog and its 3 am rn but I have two requests I'll probs be sending them both in seperate asks but first one, okay so I have been playing a dwarf inquisitor for the past week or so, he's 2 handed warrior

I also had a warrior dwarf in my old DnD club before graduating but anyways, how would the companions react to a dwarf 2 handed inquisitor stareing directly into Iron Bull's eyes and with the most serious tone asking if Bull could PICK them UP and THROW THEM to the enemy, how would the other companions ESPECIALLY Bull react to just watching their inquisitor get full on YEETED into enemy lines So all they see is this short dwarf with an AXE bigger than their body coming at them at 90 MPH just a ball of rage who wouldn't be terrified?

XD this hit me after remembering in a session where my friends Orc paladin suggested throwing my character towards an archer up on a hill got a fucking NAT 20 AND IT WAS GLORIOUS

i hate to admit we've done this in my dnd group too, and i fear my players will soon too bcs i gave the kobold a fucking nuke. why did i do that? oh god everyday is stressful.

Cassandra: She stops, and she stares. For a moment she truly wonders if maybe the rage demon in front of her stops in confusion too, because its actions become stilted and slow for a second- it's the second she needs to cut it in half as she turns towards the Inquisitor. ''Are you out of your mind?'' Is the only thing her mind can conjure up as she in absolute dread watches The Iron Bull listen to them. Why did she agree to this, why did she start the Inquisition. She should've let the world end, why are they all like this. It doesn't matter how impressive it is to her deep down, she wants to retire.

Solas: Well, that is certainly not what he had expected. His eyes narrows and his mouth opens as if to say something, just to close. It could work. That's the worst part, honestly, that he could see it work and can't even find it in himself to question the tactics. There's a moment where his spellcasting is far less controlled, more lazy in hitting its targets because he is simply far too busy watching the Inquisitor go flying. He can't even laugh, he probably would if it weren't for the fact he watches them covered in blood stand back up after cleaving half of their enemies in half. For a moment he rethinks his plans. Just for a moment.

Dorian: He yells out in glee at this, it's the funniest shit he has heard for months personally. Because Dorian Pavus for some reason, doesn't think the Inquisitor and Bull will go through with it. There's no way, absolutely not, it's ridiculous for all intents and purposes! Except the Inquisitor flies past him at an alarming speed just seconds later and Dorian finds himself lucky he has the sense to not send a spell after in pure shock, staring in awe as he ignores Sera's loud cackling to his side. He probably shouldn't tell Cassandra he found that impressive, he has a feeling she won't share the sentiment- but he looks over at Bull who just grins in pride. No wonder people were horrified of them, were they all normal people they probably would be too.

Sera: She is a cackling mess, leaning against Dorian trying to gasp for breath as Cassandra goes slack jawed. It's too funny to be impressive, it really is. The Inquisitor goes flying and she can feel her stomach muscles start cramping as people drop in front of them. Was death supposed to be this funny? Is there some kind of demon for people who die horribly hilarious deaths? She isn't sure but she has to be calmed down because breathing becomes more difficult by every second she laughs. ''Do it again! Do it again right now!'' Her request isn't appreciated by Cassandra, but Sera doesn't care. She just needs to see the confusion on these things faces one more time, just once more !

Blackwall: He shares Cassandra's retirement sentiment. It's impressive, really, it is. But at the same time he has to wonder how healthy it actually is, getting launched at such an intense speed- what if an ally had gotten in the way? Even so his mouth tugs with a smile, his eyes stay focused on the remaining enemies in front of him but- maker, why did the Inquisitor have to spin? He takes a deep breath and steels himself, this is fine. It's fine. He doesn't break out laughing until after the battle is done and Cassandra starts yelling at the Inquisitor, and they have the audacity to go ''Well, it worked didn't it?'' at her. He isn't sure if he is older than Cassandra anymore because she seemingly ages in front of him from it all.

Iron Bull: If you ask Bull, he was born for this moment. Everything has led up to launching a small violent dwarf with a giant axe in the air through enemies, this is why he was put in this reality. He is gleeful like a child receiving gifts, excitedly screaming as the Inquisitor cuts down foes mid-air. It's fun and he feels the surge of adrenaline from pulling a stupid stunt and somehow succeeding. His hands itch and the Axe he was wielding himself gets picked back up in seconds, slicing through enemies with a new eager ferocity. He fucking loved his job. This was the best job ever, fuck everything else, he'd just launched his boss in the air to kill things!

Vivienne: It's all very barbarish, isn't it? She frowns from the back where she is carefully weaving magic to her will, really, throwing the Inquisitor? Even so she can't exactly argue with how useful it is, seeing as the long line of dead things sort of counter any argument she might have. Even so she scoffs at the blood bath, rolling her eyes at delighted yells and laughter from some of her allies- this is absolutely barbaric. No, she is not smiling to herself, absolutely not. ''Do well in not getting blood on me, dear.'' Is her only comment on the matter, as she just shakes her head and moves through the battlefield. Children, she works with children.

Varric: His first reaction is just the words ''Don't ever think I'll do that.'' to Bull who laughs heartily, clearly not understanding that Varric very much has no intention to ever become a projectile. It's funny, something straight out of his books and he is for sure putting this in one- even if nobody will ever believe him. It makes him wonder just what else is possible if you have sheer stupid will and dedication, and how the hell Hawke didn't try that trick years ago.

Cole: He stares in confusion at the spot where the Inquisitor just was, eyes narrowing at the now empty plot of grass. They were just here, and then he looks up and just sees the spinning ball of absolute carnage that is flying through the air. He lets out a tiny ''Oh.'' because what else can he do? Cole just stares for a second longer before nodding, alright. He supposes that works too, and the Inquisitor is happy, so it can't hurt.

[kikiiswashere]

Children of Zaun - Chapter 25

Blue and Gold

Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC

Rating: Explicit

Story Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, smut

Chapter Summary: Vander is stressing the fuck out. Maybe a little giftie will calm his nerves. Katya dissociates like a champ.

CW: References to sexual assault, trauma responses, severe dissociation

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 5.8K

The weeks leading up to Snowdown were a complicated whirlwind for Vander.

One afternoon, Sevika had burst into the tavern, grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him to the back of the house. She hurriedly whispered about what had happened in the mines: that Silco and Katya had gotten into a fight with Kells. Kells severely injured Silco, and Katya had pushed Kells to his death. It seemed to be undecided whether that had been an accident.

Silco confirmed the events when Vander went to see him the next day. Enyd had tubed Vander, asking if he could come sit with her son while she was out.

Of course he would.

He was not at all prepared for what he saw when he arrived.

His Brother’s appearance made Vander’s stomach drop to his steel-toed boots. Vice-like fear and anger clamped down on his heart. His silver eyes flitted around Silco’s face. The bandage across his nose, the stitches in his lip, the angry bruises and welts that covered his face . . .

Vander hoped that Kells knew – where ever his retched soul had wandered off to – how lucky he was that he was already dead. Otherwise, Vander would’ve hunted him down. Would’ve used him as the body to break his gauntlets in on.

Silco peered up at his friend from his languid position on the couch. His eyes glacier blue slits between the purple swollen folds of their lids.

“Make sure he stays still and drinks water and eats. His food may need to be mashed up a bit. Keep the apartment dark,” Enyd said as she pulled her thick sweater on. She wrapped a scarf around her head, and drew it up over her nose.

Vander nodded, but struggled to take the information in. He hadn’t realized just how badly the fight had gone.

Once Enyd left, Vander rushed to Silco’s side. He fought not to take up his Brother’s long, elegant hands. Even under the calluses and near-permanent stains of dirt, anyone could see that those hands didn’t belong wielding a pick-axe. They belonged writing policies and demands for Zaun; they belonged in big important buildings, shaking other important hands.

Vander very much wanted to hold them.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he listened as Silco told him what had happened. The whole story – from his perspective. Vander’s stomach roiled nauseatingly at hearing what Kells had been caught doing to Katya. The curdle deepened as he watched Silco’s face contort under the swelling: barely restrained rage flickering beneath. Dangerous fire.

“A couple of the Children carried me to the clinic,” Silco explained, his usually smooth voice rough and nasally. “They said they would take care of the story. There’s been no fall-out?”

Vander shook his head. “Nothin’. An’ no one’s gonna say nothin’. Kells wazza cunt who got what he deserved.” A beat, and then he asked, “How’s Katya?”

Silco melted back into the couch. The gesture felt more defeated than relieved.

“She’s . . . She didn’t seem okay when I left the clinic yesterday. When she told me to leave.” Silco’s chin dipped, “I should’ve stayed with her.”

Vander’s gut twisted. “Well, yer mum’s with her now. She’ll be okay.”

When Silco didn’t say anything, when his expression remained distant and forlorn, Vander became fidgety and added, “Don’ worry ‘bout it, Sil. Kells is gone, n’ no one’s tryin’ to make a fuss about it. Here. Just lie back. I’ll make you a cuppa, yeah?”

In the days following, it really seemed like the whole thing would blow over. That this mild wrinkle within the Children’s ranks had already been ironed out. Until one evening, about a week after Kells’s death, a small group of three older teen boys approached Vander in the early hours of The Last Drop being open.

Their timing was purposeful; only a small handful of beleaguered and elderly Zaunites were peppered around the tavern. Men and women who didn’t want to be talked with or entertained. They only wanted the momentary peace a rocks glass or tankard could offer before they had to get home, go to bed, and live another day. It was a time during working hours Vander was more available.

It was a time there were fewer witnesses.

“We need to talk,” one had said. His upper lip quivered as he took in the man-mountain before him.

Vander’s eyes narrowed, and he peered over the group. His customers appeared at ease, so he jerked his head, instructing the young men to follow him. His instincts fizzed as they trailed behind. The hair on the back of his neck pricked up, his muscles coiled and braced.

Vander slid into one side of a shadowed booth. The others toddled in awkwardly with all the grace of new whumplings fighting for space in the nest, shoulders bumping and legs twisting together.

“What’dya need?” he asked once they were settled across from him.

His eyes cut from one face to the next. He recognized them as part of the gaggle that had orbited around Kells, but knew none by name.

“You heard about what happened in the mines a couple days ago,” the one on the right said. He was wiry with curly brown hair and pale skin. Dark green eyes blinked up at Vander under thick lashes.

Had his instincts not been priming his mind and body for some kind of fight, Vander would’ve thought him pretty.

“Aye. I have.”

“Well, what’re you gonna do about it?” The middle one demanded.

Vander’s nostrils lifted. This one had limp dark-blond hair, a pug nose, and too-round cheeks that were splotched angry-red.

“I wasn’ aware there was something to be done about it.”

“Silco killed Kells!” the one on the left hissed, his dark brown skin radiating vengeful heat. Black-brown eyes blistered beneath his thick, ebony hair.

Vander’s eyes flashed quick-silver. “He didn’.”

“He was going to if the medic he’s been eyeballin’ hadn’t’ve jumped in!” the middle one said, pig-nose flaring. “They probably planned it together.”

Vander shot up from his seat, knuckles hitting the table with a crack! as he braced his arms and loomed menacingly. The three young men collectively jumped, and hunkered back into the booth. The vinyl at their backs crackled as if in warning. Gone were their indignant expressions, replaced by utter shock and fear as they beheld the behemoth lording over them. Vander’s body and wrath blocked out the little light that reached into the booth’s alcove.

“Listen up,” he hissed, his voice all growl and warning grit. He bared his teeth at them and loomed closer. “Kells died ‘cause he made a stupid, evil decision” – it wasn’t his place to speak about Katya’s assault, so he kept it firmly tucked down his throat – “n’ he got what he deserved, frankly speakin’.” He leaned closer, broad shoulders hunching up threateningly like hackles on a beast, “This conversation is over. ‘N if I catch a whiff of any of ya tryin’ to rustle up more problems, you’ll be the first bodies I test my gauntlets on. Savvy?”

After a beat, all three reluctantly nodded and crawled out of the booth, scampering for the door.

Vander stalked back behind the bar rubbing his temples, mind spinning like a top.

It was one thing to fight with Topside. It was another for it to happen amongst the Children. The burgeoning rebellion wouldn’t withstand in-fighting. Zaun would bleed out, wouldn’t make it past its infancy, and be buried by Piltover again. The Children of Zaun needed to stick together, Brothers and Sisters arm-in-arm; an impenetrable wall of scrap metal, zeal, and will.

Then the threat he’d delivered to those three yellow-bellied malcontents . . .

“‘N if I catch a whiff of any of ya . . . .”

A wince creased Vander’s face. He didn’t suppose threatening Brothers and Sisters did anything for morale or loyalty. There was the chance that he had just made things worse. He shouldn’t have done that. He needed to keep his temper in check.

That was difficult when his Brother was concerned. Vander was protective of Silco, loyal to him – perhaps even more so than he was to Zaun. Although, Vander felt they were often one in the same. Yes, they had dreamed up the idea together, small and squatted behind minecarts, but Silco latched onto Zaun like it was air. Cleaner and purer than anything in Piltover. He had always led the charge from there on out. And Vander was at his side.

“Yer as loyal as a dog to ‘im, Van,” Benzo had said one night, long before the Children of Zaun.

He had said it with a certain amount of distaste that had Vander’s brow curling questioningly.

“He’s my best mate. ‘Course I am.”

Vander’s heart and shoulders softened at the memory. But immediately tensed again when he recalled what the blond teen had said.

“He was going to if the medic he’s eyeballin’ hadn’t’ve jumped in!”

Vander’s hand dropped heavy onto the bar top, gathering empty glasses and crumpled napkins. The comment had been innocuous, and utterly meaningless. The shithead had only meant to implicate Katya. But that little throw-away barb had slid under Vander’s ribs as if expertly laced.

“Oi! Vander!”

A customer in need of a refill pulled the barkeep from his head. Landed him right back into the moment like someone dropping a melon off Old Hungry. Grateful for the distraction, Vander went back to work.

Then time flew fast and the cold season fully settled over Piltover and Zaun, like a great, chilled blanket. The Lanes became smokier than normal, Zaunites reallocating what little funds they had to purchase wood and coal for their stoves. Less food, more heat; the pendulum of necessity ever swinging.

The Children kept meeting, kept preparing. A squad was set up to track Enforcer movements; where they had been, what their routes were, who they had spoken with and what answers they were given. Another group became designated runners for the supplies that pirates, independent merchants, and other morally grey characters smuggled in, and were paid with Airship coin.

Other members volunteered their homes and businesses to house the contraband: small armaments, scrap metal that would be smelted and repurposed, bottles of liquor too strong to drink but could be lit and chucked at Enforcers for when the time came.

However, the chill and impending holiday put a firm hold on both Piltover and the Undercity, stymying plans and regular schedules. On either side of the Pilt, families and businesses prepared for Snowdown, the holiday’s sentimental pull too strong for anyone or anything to fully deviate from it.

It went unspoken, but there was a sense in the Lanes – in Zaun – that this Snowdown was more poignant than those before. The holiday was about gathering, gratitude, and looking to the promise of the new year ahead.

The promise that this coming year would be the birth of their sovereign nation. Or, at least, the true beginning of the labor process.

This would also be the first Snowdown at The Last Drop Vander ran entirely alone. He’d more or less run it the year before, but the old proprietor – sick and dying – had been back in the living quarters, able to offer instructions and advice in that deep, throaty voice of his. Vander would take the wisdom with him back to the front and resume hosting duties.

But he was dead now.

The barkeep sighed as he cleared the taps for the busy night ahead, looking around at the bedecked tavern. The decorations were meager, but festive. Annie had festooned the pillars separating booths with garlands of colorful paper, dolloped the jukebox with a tangle of tinsel, and had put fresh candles on all the tables. Beckett suddenly appeared from the back; his strong, freckled arms loaded with extra stools.

Vander was grateful for the pair’s help. In the past weeks, Benzo had finally healed up enough to get back to his own business. Cairn stayed on to help at the pawnshop, instead of returning to The Drop. Benzo needed the extra pair of hands – his injury notwithstanding – and Cairn enjoyed the trade more than busing tables.

Vander certainly couldn’t blame him for that, and felt no ill-will toward the young man. Besides, now he had Annie to help. And while she was spacy, loud, and intense, she was good at her job and the customers loved her. Beckett was an added bonus; because where ever the dark bluenette went, he followed dutifully.

“Just put ‘em anywhere, Van?” Beckett asked, craning his head over the seats he carried.

“Yeah. Jus’ pepper ‘em ‘round the walls if ya would.”

As Beckett nodded and hauled the stools off, Annie burst through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen, her thin arms laden with more candles. Great, fat pillars this time. Vander sighed, although the woeful sound did not impede the young woman’s trajectory toward the booths.

“Annie. I think we’ve enough candles.”

She began stacking them artfully on the booth tables. “Nuh-uh. Never. They create ambience.”

“Ambience and drunk people don’ mix,” Vander said, a hand rubbing at his forehead.

“It’ll be fiiiiiiiiine.”

“I’ll keep an eye on it, Van,” Beckett hushed as he carried the remaining stools over to the other side of the tavern.

Vander sighed, let it be, and continued prepping the bar’s stock.

A few hours later, The Last Drop was packed. Revelers young, old, and in-between stuffed the tavern to its gills. Most were members of the Children. Those that weren’t mingled with hope on their faces, intrigue glittering in their eyes like stars. The jukebox played on repeat, a long string of plucky, jovial tunes interspersed with the eager and happy chatter of the patrons. Ale and liquor flowed with abandon. Annie’s candles glowed and flickered invitingly. Vander had to admit that they did look beautiful. The soft, buttery glow of the flames brought a holy quality to the space. It inspired a bone-deep hope to flower in his chest.

Benzo and Cairn showed up about an hour after the bar opened for the night. The room burst into raucous cheers as Benzo threw up his meaty arms and greeted loudly, “BLESSED SNOWDOWN!”

Close behind the pair was Tolder and his brood, Sevika bringing up the end of the line. Once her younger siblings were inside, she whisked to the bar.

“Is Nasha here?”

“Haven’ seen her,” Vander answered filling a glass with caramel colored ale and handing it to a customer. “Bu’ she may be here n’ I haven’ noticed. Bit busy.”

“Yeah, just a bit,” she muttered, throwing her head around in search of the other girl. She smacked her palm against the bar top twice. “I’ll be back.”

Then she strode into the crowd, her head swiveling, eyes searching. A small smile crinkled the corners of Vander’s eyes as he watched her go. Then an empty tankard skittered across the bar and he fell back into work.

Sometime later, the crowd erupted again. Not as loud as when Benzo entered The Drop, but the swell of noise caused Vander to look up. His first full smile of the night spread across his face. Silco wove between tables, chairs, and customers, greeting people as he went with a small nod, or reserved wave.

“No Enyd?” Vander asked as Silco finally made it to the bar top.

His Brother’s lips thinned into a rueful, forced grin. He shook his head, dark hair fluttering about his face like curled shadows.

“No. She’s tired.”

The subtext of the message flicked at Vander’s heart with a mighty twang. Like it had been snapped with a rubber band.

She’s tired.

Her cough is especially bad. Has been bad. Is getting worse.

“What can I get ya?” Vander asked, hoping to distract Silco.

“Hmm? What?” Silco’s head – which had turned and was surveying the crowd – snapped back to Vander’s face. “Oh. Whisky. Please.”

Vander grinned and nodded. It was simple and quick, but preparing the two fingers of burnt amber liquor pleased him more than all the tankards of ale he had filled and refilled thus far. As he placed the glass in front of Silco, he was surprised to see a long, thin package on the counter between them.

“What’s this?”

“A Snowdown gift.”

Hot blush bloomed across Vander’s face. His heart swelled to the point of bursting. Then, honey-sweet hope once again dared to spread under his skin.

“Ya didn’ have to get me anything, Sil.”

Silco smirked and shrugged. “I wanted to.”

The blush on the back of Vander’s neck turned beet red as he sheepishly reached for the gift. It was wrapped in brown paper that had been crumpled and reused to the point of softness. Like thin suede.

Slowly, he peeled the wrapping away. A slender knife was settled in the worn curls and wrinkles of paper, its blade long with a gentle curve. There were a couple nicks in the metal that could be consider defects, but the worn appearance felt distinctly Zaun-ish to him. The handle was nearly half the length of the blade, wrapped in soft taupe-colored leather. The pommel was embossed with artful swoops.

Vander’s eyes roved over the knife, throat squeezing tight.

Then his gaze caught another detail: below the guard, on the first pleat of hide, the letter ‘V’ had been carved. The tightness gripping his throat intensified. Firelight wings beat and tickled his stomach to the point that Vander thought he might be sick with joy. Never before had he fought so hard to not reach for Silco, and draw him in close. To grab for his collar and pull him in for a kiss.

He refrained, though. Once again convincing himself that this wasn’t the time or place.

A small, love-hungry voice from deep inside cried out: “When will be the right time?!”

Not now.

Soon.

Hopefully.

Please.

Carefully tempering his expression in to one of bridled gratitude, Vander looked back up at Silco. His Brother eyed him with that smarmy, cocky half-grin and lifted eyebrow. Vander’s finger pads dug into the bar top to keep his hands from reaching out and grabbing for him. Everyday, it got harder and harder to do that.

Instead, he reached for the package and drew it closer.

“Ya didn’ hafta do that, Sil,” he murmured appreciatively.

“For when your fists get tired of beating Enforcers.”

An amused huff blew from Vander’s nose. “Thank you. I love it.”

Silco inclined his head, and lifted his glass to Vander. “Happy Snowdown, Brother. Next year may we be celebrating in a free nation.”

The weeks leading up to Snowdown were a heart-straining, soul-sickening series of days for Katya.

The third day after her assault, another gut-wrenching meltdown pulled her under. She couldn’t decide, in retrospect, if she had been grateful that Enyd was there, or if she wished she could’ve crumpled in private.

She had been standing at the kitchen sink, washing a cup. Enyd was gathering their lunch dishes from the table. Suddenly, Katya’s mind played an incredibly cruel prank on her: a phantom pressure at the crux of her thighs. Where Kells had groped her. She started with a gasp; eyes peeled wide. The cup fell from her hands as her legs buckled, and she tumbled to the cracked linoleum floor.

Blood rushed in her ears.

It kept her from hearing the wail that ripped from her throat.

At once, Enyd was at her side, drawing her close. Despite being so petite, she enveloped the young woman in a way only a mother could, all love and comfort. She spoke, lips and jaw moving against Katya’s temple, but the sound couldn’t penetrate the rush of blood in her ears. Nor the pummeling realization that ghostly sensation had brought her.

“I killed him. I killed him. I killed him – “

“Shhhh . . . Breathe, Katya. Breathe – “

“I killed . . . I killed him. I didn’t mean – “

A wail ripped itself from the base of Katya’s throat. She hadn’t meant to kill Kells; just to get him off of Silco. She didn’t know if her memory was playing tricks on her, but now the scene that played in her head contorted Kells’s face into one of abject fear as he tumbled over the turbine’s edge, limbs scrabbling for help.

But she hadn’t helped.

She had pushed.

Then watched.

Despite how vilely he had treated her, she had been unprepared to punish him with such finality. Dread and shame cemented in her arms and legs. The weight making it impossible to escape from the scenario playing over and over again in her head.

Sevika had said he had had no family. That there would be no trouble for her.

No trouble from the outside world, perhaps. But her insides roiled with it. Tentacles of humiliation slithering in her veins. Regret stabbing at her like claws.

“Katya. Katya. Look at me.”

With more force than the mother probably wanted to use, Enyd gripped Katya’s jaw between her fingers, jerking her head to the side so their eyes could connect. Spit, snot, and tears dripped over Enyd’s strong hold.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Katya. It was an accident. None of it was your fault. Do you hear me?”

Katya sniffled and trembled between the claw-grip. Her lips blubbered, an attempt to insist Enyd was wrong on the tip of her sob-thickened tongue.

Whip-fast, Enyd’s hand curled around the back of Katya’s head and tucked the young woman in closer.

“I will tell you as many times as you need to hear it. It’s not your fault. None of it.”

Katya did not know how long they stayed, curled up on the floor. She didn’t remember moving, but when her conscious mind turned back on, she found herself back on the couch, blanket tucked around her. Enyd sat at the far end, a sewing project in her lap.

Katya’s insides felt like sludge. Her throat burning from having been screamed raw. She turned her head against the couch cushion, eyes falling onto the accordion-style laundry rack Enyd had hauled with her that day. It was broken – one side’s legs having to be placed very carefully, as the bracing brackets had broken off – but it worked. Just like Enyd had promised.

She closed her eyes. At some point the couch shifted as Enyd rose. Then there was the soft press of lips to her temple, a loving murmur in her ear. When next Katya opened her eyes, Enyd was gone.

She went back to work the next day. Unwilling to keep eating up Enyd’s time. Hoping that the monotonous tasks of the clinic would dull the edges of the past few days.

Will pestered her when she appeared. Asked if she was okay. What had happened. Said that he was going to put in a formal complaint against Silco.

“Don’t do that,” Katya snapped harshly. “He didn’t do anything. It wasn’t him. I will be fine. Leave it.”

Will’s shoulders slumped, but he made the wise choice to not argue with her further.

As he wrapped his ratty coat around him, he said, “I finished stocking the supplies. I didn’t know why you had put some off to the side, but I put them with the rest of the inventory. Hope that’s okay.”

Katya stilled.

Right. Before she had gone to Fissure 27 – she swallowed down the bile gathering at the base of her throat – she had put a few items aside to stock for the Children and Enyd. She’d forgotten about it.

“Yes. That is fine. Thank you, Will.”

As that first day back slogged along, Katya kept looking at the clinic door. She didn’t know if she was wishing Silco would step through, or not. Part of her hoped he was still home.

She saw him next when she dropped off a bottle of medicine for Enyd.

Her heart made a home in her throat as she approached their apartment. The same mighty war raged within her as she knocked on the door: she craved to see Silco, then inexplicable shame would swoop in and fell that desire.

She shouldn’t expect his company, his companionship. She couldn’t pay the cost. Didn’t deserve it. Regardless of how much she may want it.

Agonizing relief sluiced over her bones when Enyd answered.

“Medicine,” Katya whispered by way of greeting. Reaching into her coat, she produced the larger bottle of decongestant. “Use the dropper from the smaller bottle. You could start taking an extra dose in the morning right now, since the cold weather makes your symptoms worse – “

“Katya,” Enyd crooned, taking the bottle and bringing a hand up to the young woman’s cheek. There was a pause, and she said, “Why don’t you come in?”

Katya shook her head, taking a step back. She flashed what she hoped was a grateful, but apologetic, smile.

“I cannot, unfortunately. I’m on my way to pick up Viktor – “

“Mum? Who’s at the door?”

Katya choked as her heart beat wildly in her throat. Her muscles tensed as they tried to decide whether bolting or freezing was the best option.

Then Silco appeared behind Enyd’s shoulder. He looked better than he had on her exam table. Bruising and swelling still puffed and discolored his eyelids and cheekbones, but it had since gone down. The bandage on his nose was gone, but the stitching on his lip stayed in place.

Katya’s throat wound tight. She was so happy, so relieved to see him. His presence a soothing balm to her scraped up heart and psyche. Yet, her boots remained rooted.

“Kat,” Silco said in a tone that danced between relief and excitement.

“I was just dropping off medicine for Enyd. I can’t stay. I need to pick up Viktor,” she robotically repeated.

The thick soles of her shoes shuffled against the floorboards, preparing her exit. Despite her leg’s attempts to walk away, her head and shoulders stayed facing the doorway. Her eyes glued to Silco’s.

She wanted to stay.

Wanted to talk with him.

Wanted to be with him.

Wanted him.

But she couldn’t. Shouldn’t. For reasons her trauma-addled brain couldn’t supply. Despite their lack of discernible motives, those thoughts won out.

“I need to go,” she said, and finally allowed her legs to carry her away. “See you both later.”

Like most of her movements of late, Katya didn’t remember getting to Piltover. The weight of the rucksack in her hand was the only thing that pulled her back online for a moment. She blinked. Her eyes fell on the worn canvas handle in her palm. She blinked, and then her eyes looked over and found Viktor. He looked back, open worry and confusion covering his face.

“What is wrong?” Viktor whispered to her when they took their seat in the conveyor car.

Katya pulled her lips into a reassuring smile. “Nothing. I am just tired. Long week, and I think I’m coming down with a small cold.”

The weekend past. On Monday, Katya took Viktor back to school.

The week past, too. A sludgy slog of colors and events that bled one into the next. Silco tried visiting Katya in the clinic, but she busied herself when he did. He stood dutifully near her during the Children’s meeting. His arms wrapped tight across his chest; fingers firmly tucked underneath his biceps.

Perhaps he was cross with her.

He should be, she figured.

Katya didn’t recall the meeting. Something about new supplies and updates on Enforcer activity.

She was, however, aware of the glances shot her way. The bitter, suspicious glares of Kells’s group of peers. Vander’s empathetic stare. He added a nod to it when she finally glanced in his direction.

Unwilling to linger, she slipped out just before the meeting ended; her bootheels a quick, snappy tap on the cobblestones.

“Kat.”

She froze, shoulders pitched up to her ears. This wasn’t the dream, but that call sparked the memory of it. Silco had called her then. Silco called for her now.

Slowly, Katya spun around, forcibly lowering her shoulders as she went. He wasn’t smiling like he had been in the dream. His face – which had become clearer in the passing days – was etched in an expression of deep concern.

In the dream, he had joyfully approached her. Now, he cautiously stepped forward. Like she was a wounded animal he didn’t want to spook.

She saw in his eyes that he wanted to say something.

“Can I walk you home?”

Yes. Yes, please.

“No, thank you. I can manage.” She gave him the same grin she’d given her brother, and turned on her heel.

“Kat.”

She stopped again. An unseen fist squeezing at her heart.

In the dream, the second time he had called, he’d come close. Close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss. Now, Katya turned and watched him take a couple more steps.

“It is fine, Silco. Really.”

His footsteps stopped, the toes of his boots awkwardly scraping against the street. She heard the gulp he took, watched the way his hands flexed.

“Alright then. Get home safe.”

“Of course.”

Her legs carried her away. Something inside her wailed and begged to go back. It was promptly swallowed up by that beast that couldn’t stand the risk.

The weekend arrived, and Viktor came home. It past, and he went back to school.

Silco stood on Katya’s periphery all week. He would still stop by the clinic to check on her. He stood by her during meetings. But said very little, and Katya became acutely aware of how much she loved his voice.

Another weekend.

Another week.

Now, Katya sat on her couch. Her blanket cocooned her, as it had these past weeks. A great, fluffy shell that wrapped around her shoulders and haloed her head. The apartment’s light was dim. The air was quiet – save for the occasional clanks and hisses of the radiator. Despite it being the eve of Snowdown, she heard no celebrating outside her windows or door. There never was this deep in the Sump.

This year, the holiday had fallen in the middle of the week. Viktor was across the river. No doubt as lonely as she was.

She knew The Last Drop hosted a gathering for the holiday. It had for years. Even when her Papa had been a boy. Anyone who traipsed through the door was invited. She knew the Children would be there: Sevika and her siblings, Nasha, Benzo, Cairn, Annie, Beckett. Silco.

A vicious ache clanged through her. A yawning, angry emptiness that begged to be addressed.

But like when Silco had come after her that night to walk her home, the yearning was quickly gnashed between the pointed teeth of that same oily beast. Powerful, but slippery. Like it didn’t want to be looked at too closely. It simply wanted to swoop in, gobble up ridiculous things like desire, and retreat back to the shadows with little examination.

Just as the beast was about to recoil back into the vacuous recesses of Katya’s chest cavity, the yearning gave a mad thrash between its jaws. A powerful snap that threatened to crack the teeth that held it.

Katya’s heart swelled and lurched at the sensation. Sitting up straighter, she put a hand to her chest and pressed, as if that would dissuade any further tantruming from within.

The yearning jerked again, alive and insistent against the hold of its captor.

‘Go,’ it seemed to say as it attempted to pull itself from the serrated mouth that held it. ‘Go.’

A watery gasp blew from Katya’s mouth, and one of her feet dropped from the couch onto the floor. The movement, while not purposeful, finally caused the shadowy monster to scramble for a better hold. It braced itself against the cage of her ribs.

‘Don’t go,’ it hissed through a clenched jaw. ‘Don’t go.’

Katya blinked. Her shoulders dropped, as did her other foot.

Fear. That was the desire-eating thing. She knew it well. It had dictated most of her life until recently. Had kept her in-line until recently. Since her time with the Children – of feeling like she belonged to something, of feeling like she wanted something more – it had been skirted to the sidelines. Present, but not commanding. Kells, and what he had done to her had pushed it back onto the field, its stamina and intensity renewed from the break it had received.

Katya scooted to the edge of the couch, blanket dropping from her shoulders and gathering at her hips like soft folds of cumulus clouds.

That isn’t what she wanted. To let her desires decay and blow away in the wind. To let fear, Piltover, or anything else stomp out the inherent, wild value she had just begun to believe in.

The silvery slip of Desire caught in Fear’s jaws wriggled and thrashed excitedly. Fear strained, its claws losing purchase on her rib bones.

She wanted, she decided. She wanted to believe in her value, her worthiness.

Desire surged forward, most of its amorphous body slipping from Fear’s too-rigid teeth.

She wanted to trust in Zaun’s ability to pull itself out of the proverbial hole Piltover had made it dig for itself.

Desire whipped and twisted. Fear’s bite began to tire and give.

Katya stood and the blanket drooped to the floor. She wanted the same for herself.

With a final snap of its slender body, Desire broke free and gushed forward; just like how Katya’s feet strode for the door. Fear whimpered, empty jaws chattering, as it recoiled back.

Katya shoved her feet into her boots, grabbed her coat from its peg, and burst out the door.

Her legs moved so swiftly that it felt like she was gliding, flying through the Sump and up into the Entresol. She wove around Snowdown revelers and underneath twinkling chem-bulbs single-mindedly, quick and swift as a canary.

It didn’t take long for The Last Drop to erupt in front of her, all merriment, togetherness, and neon green lights. Her heart thundered, and Desire serpentined inside her belly. Fists squeezing in her coat pockets, Katya surged forward.

As she anticipated, The Drop was packed, the patrons – Children and others alike – wonderfully happy in each other’s company. A few people raised glasses to her as she stepped inside, and she offered them careful smiles.

Over in a booth decorated with a ridiculous number of candles, Sevika beamed at her, and threw an arm up in greeting. Nasha was slung over her lap, preventing her from getting up. She gave Katya her own wave, and returned her attention back to twirling Sevika’s hair between her fingers.

Katya craned her head over the crowd as she shuffled closer toward the bar. Vander’s massive form flitted behind the countertop with grace that belied his stature. His face was ruddy with happiness as he addressed his customers.

Her eyes traveled down the long bar.

Looking.

Searching.

Her heart stuttered at the sight of Silco. Desire sang a song she’d never heard before.

He held a drink in his hand, his gaze cool and aloof as it traveled around the tavern. Then, like a homing missile, his eyes finally found hers.

Blue met gold.

Notes: AHHHHH!!!!!! Guys. Guys. THINGS are gonna happen in the next chapter. This slow burn is gonna pay off! EEEEE! I hope you enjoyed this piney-pining chapter!

Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear yout thoughts in the comments or reblogs ❤️

Coming Up Next: Katya asks Silco to show her Zaun again.

Next Chapter

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