#marius and thorne friendship

[theblackphoenixwritings]

∞MARIUS & THORNE∞

-Thorne loves stories, especially those of mythology, and of the ancient gods. So a little for fun, at first, he went to Marius with a large book of Nordic myths. Marius and Thorne spent the following nights talking and comparing notes on the collection of that book. Marius read aloud, in his low, warm tone, and Thorne listened, eyes closed, lying with his head resting on Marius' legs, as he imagined the wonders Marius' voice told him. And after those first few nights, whenever Thorne could, he went to find Marius with a new book for him to read. Marius was truly happy, to be able to spend time with what had become his greatest friend, and together, in that stolen time, it became even more clear to both of them, how much that unexpected meeting, so long ago, had been a true blessing.

-Marius had begun to notice that someone was leaving small wood-carved figurines on his desk. Not every day, and not on a regular basis, but the small, delightful figurines always appeared. It could be an eagle or a wolf, a small soldier with a shield, or a maple leaf. Each time it was different, each time more elaborate, as if the hand that created them had begun to relearn a lost art. It may have seemed a strange thing indeed, and even Daniel and Armand had witnessed that incredible little phenomenon, had been intrigued and a little troubled by it. Both were taken aback by the idea that Marius knew who was leaving them. Marius denied it with a smile. Then one summer evening, Thorne appeared at Marius' door with tears of joy in his eyes. A finely wrought chain of silver hung around his neck, two pendants hanging from it. Huginn and Muninn, Odin's ravens twinkled in the candlelight, thought and memory, that was their meaning. Marius knew it was Thorne who left those delightful wooden figurines, which he had placed in a glass case, on display in his office. Happy and proud to share the beauty and skill of his best friend. The ravens of Odin thought and memory perfectly encapsulated the core of their wonderful friendship, which is why Marius had chosen them for Thorne.

-Marius and Thorne had developed their own unique and special way of greeting each other. Different each time, but full of respect and dedication. Sometimes when Marius passed by engaged in something, and noticed Thorne near the path he was to follow, he would approach and place two gentle taps on his broad chest, Thorne would grin and rest his forehead on Marius'. Sometimes Thorne would notice Marius from afar, engaged in something or with someone, and look at him with a smile, when Marius' eyes then met his, Thorne would wink at him and Marius would laugh and shake his head. Sometimes Marius would stop, while he was engrossed in something, noticing Thorne, and approach to place a hand on his shoulder and give him a smile. Thorne, surprised, would respond by hugging him, and Marius would laugh, and allow himself to be hugged. These small gestures were their language, when they could not talk, or had to go about their respective chores. No matter, they always found a way, and a moment, to tell each other that their friendship was always in their hearts and thoughts.

[fenicenera83]

This is a love post for Thorne ❤️

Because I love my red Viking warrior 😌

[ihaventcomeupwthanameforaheroyet]

BTW has anyone else noticed?

Thorne offering friendship to Daniel:

- Hey I ❤️ your smol 🏡🏡🏡. Friends?

Thorne offering friendship to Marius:

*kisses him desperately*

Yeah, sure, I got it, bro. Old customs and all.

[zenonova]

Chapters: 8/? Fandom: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tori "Gridlock" Tallyo Fairous & Max "Mozzie" Goose, Elena "Mira" Maria Álvarez/Emmanuelle "Twitch" Pichon, Dominic "Bandit" Brunsmeier/Elias "Blitz" Kötz, Adriano "Maestro" Martello/Aria "Alibi" de Luca, Tori "Gridlock" Tallyo Fairous/Meghan "Valkyrie" Castellano Characters: Max "Mozzie" Goose, Tori "Gridlock" Tallyo Fairous, Six (Rainbow Six: Siege), Eliza "Ash" Cohen, Miles "Castle" Campbell, Jack "Pulse" Estrada, Jordan "Thermite" Trace, Mike "Thatcher" Baker, James "Smoke" Porter, Mark "Mute" Chandar, Seamus "Sledge" Cowden, Alexsandr "Tachanka" Senaviev, Maxim "Kapkan" Basuda, Timur "Glaz" Glazkov, Shuhrat "Fuze" Kessikbayev, Lera "Finka" Melnikova, Gustave "Doc" Kateb, Emmanuelle "Twitch" Pichon, Gilles "Montagne" Touré, Julien "Rook" Nizan, Olivier "Lion" Flament, Dominic "Bandit" Brunsmeier, Elias "Blitz" Kötz, Marius "Jäger" Streicher, Monika "IQ" Weiss, Chul Kyung "Vigil" Hwa, Grace "Dokkaebi" Nam, Craig "Blackbeard" Jenson, Meghan "Valkyrie" Castellano, Masaru "Echo" Enatsu, Yumiko "Hibana" Imagawa, Vicente "Capitão" Souza, Taina "Caveira" Pereira, Zofia Bosak, Elżbieta "Ela" Bosak, Morowa "Clash" Evans, Erik "Maverick" Thorn, Elena "Mira" Maria Álvarez, Ryad "Jackal" Ramírez Al-Hassar, Sanaa "Nomad" El Maktoub, Jalal "Kaid" El Fassi, Siu "Ying" Mei Lin, Liu "Lesion" Tze Long, Adriano "Maestro" Martello, Aria "Alibi" de Luca Additional Tags: Friendship, best mates, Slice of Life, Australia, Military, Best Friends, Background Relationships, Romance, Action/Adventure Summary:

A story compilation that I may or may not continue depending on how well it's perceived. Short stories of the two friends and their life together and interactions with the other Rainbow operators.

I can take suggestions too I guess.

[kcrabb88]

In a Mirror Dimly

Summary: Enjolras and Valjean bond at the barricade, discussing love and something they share in common. Written for Ace Mis Week 2019. 

Note: Aromanticism and asexuality definitely overlap here! That’s my personal experience/orientation, so that comes naturally for me when writing about ace things. Also, the title is a reference to a verse from 1 Corinthians. Thanks to @aflamethatneverdies and @librarianladyx for beta’ing! 

Valjean knows he shouldn’t get attached to these boys.

Because these boys will probably be dead soon.

Young men, he corrects himself, because they’re not children. But he has a habit of making any youth a child in his head.

He can’t help but feel fatherly toward them.

Perhaps he can convince them to run? Then again, maybe not. And how could he lead them through the dark of Paris unnoticed, even if he got them out?

Surrender? He flinches, digging his fingernails into his palms. That might mean prison. He swallows, unwilling to imagine these vibrant young men under that weight.

He looks over, seeing the one called Enjolras whisper something in Combeferre’s ear, a soft smile sliding onto the chief’s face.

He remembers seeing the tear running down the lad’s cheek after he shot the artillery sergeant. He remembers watching him step away for a moment and take a deep breath, because there isn’t time for grief.

Not here.

Enjolras brushes a stray strand of astonishing fair hair out of his eyes, not yet noticing Valjean studying him. Paris feels dark in this space before true daylight comes, clouds sweeping across the sky as a slice of blue edges into the black night, just a hint of red lingering on the horizon. There’s no light from the usual window lanterns, the few they have near the barricade emitting a dull yellow haze. The scent of gun smoke lingers in the air, never allowing Valjean to forget where he is.

He’d sensed the revolt in the air for weeks, months, before he heard news of the barricades today, but France has been roiled so many times since his birth that he can never tell when a spark will turn into something or when it won’t. The revolution was in progress when he was shipped to Toulon, and he remembers hearing news of the changes inside France: the revolution ending, Napoleon’s coup, and years later, his disastrous defeat in Russia. Then, Waterloo.

Nothing changed inside the bagne.

Valjean’s surprised when he glances up and sees Enjolras looking at him.

Then walking toward him.

“I was grateful for your help with the mattress to block the grapeshot, citizen,” Enjolras says as he approaches. “And for your bravery in giving your uniform to send another man away. My friends and I are thankful.”

Always citizen, rather than monsieur. Valjean’s intrigued again, even if he doesn’t quite know what to say. He can’t really say why exactly he’s here, though he’d heard Marius say I know him, so what might the other men here suspect? Perhaps nothing. Perhaps that Marius has only seen him in the street.

He realizes how much he’s used to keeping secrets. Always secrets, because he carries Toulon with him everywhere. The secrets grew heavier when he tore up his yellow passport and became someone else, when he took the bishop’s silver and started a new life. But with his secrets he also gained a sort of freedom. The freedom to be someone other than Jean Valjean and the damage that name carries with it. He’s only Jean Valjean at night, when he’s alone with his scars. Wearing another name gives him the chance to help others. It gives him the chance to love his daughter.

Valjean folds his hands together, praying he can get Cosette’s young man out of here even as the National Guard gets closer and daylight breaks into the night, the first hints of dawn reaching the barricade. He recalls Enjolras’ words from the speech he gave not long ago, the words cutting into Valjean’s heart because he doesn’t want these young men to die.

We are entering a tomb all flooded with the dawn.

Enjolras sits down on the paving stones, the first strains of morning light creeping toward his feet through the shadows as if drawn to him. The glow casts his youth into relief and washes the gravity from his face, the knowledge that this lad might perish—and soon—making Valjean’s chest ache. Smudges of gunpowder stain Enjolras’ hands black in places, but he’s bafflingly free of even a small injury.

“Do you have anyone worrying over you at home?” Valjean asks, because he doesn’t know what to say. He so often feels like he doesn’t know what to say, only what to do.

Enjolras pulls his gaze away from the sunrise. “My parents are at home in Marseilles, but hopefully they aren’t worrying yet because news won’t have reached them.”

“No wife or children like those men you sent home?”

Valjean wonders if there’s any way he might convince Enjolras to go home. He looks barely more than seventeen or so, even if he must be a good bit into his twenties. Valjean isn’t opposed to the politics, because he knows just how desperate so many people are, right now. How desperate they’ve been for years. He understands the inequalities and the cholera and the poverty. Those were the things he was trying to fix, in Montreuil, before it all went wrong. Those are the things he wants to help alleviate now, where he can, person by person.

But he doesn’t want these young men dying over this. He wants them to find another way, because there’s enough death in these streets already.

Enjolras smiles, possibly catching onto to Valjean’s motives. “No. I have never been very interested in romance or the…” red creeps into his cheeks, and Valjean suspects he doesn’t blush often. “…the other activities my friends occupy themselves with. So no mistress waiting, either.”

Valjean shifts the gun resting between his knees. “Too busy wanting to change the world?”

Enjolras runs a hand through his over-long fair hair, and the small movement makes Fantine appear in Valjean’s mind with a flash of vibrant, tangible memory, her golden hair cut short and ruined by the cruel edge of a knife. All these years later and he still aches over the fact that he couldn’t save her.

He probably can’t save all these boys either, only the one he’s come for, the one his daughter loves, and it hurts.

Truth be told he doesn’t even know if he can save Marius.

Even in the last excruciating moments, there had been hope in Fantine’s eyes, hope that she might see her daughter again. Even as she died, Valjean saw the life in her bursting at the seams with nowhere to go. He never had the chance to know Fantine, just as he won’t ever know Enjolras, but despite their differences in circumstance and age and gender, he recognizes the same radical, indestructible hope in both of them. In Fantine’s last days he sensed that she was never just surviving, but always looking for the tiniest fragment of joy in the dark, even if she was only holding on by her fingernails. He senses that same spirit in Enjolras, watching it shimmer in the air around them like a living thing.

If he could, he would give some of his years back to Fantine, so she could see her daughter again.

He would give some to these lads, too, and save them from the bullets awaiting them on the other side of the barricade.

But he can’t.

Enjolras’ voice draws him back toward the moment at hand, every second feeling precious, because death’s shadow creeps over the barricade even as the orange-red glow of the sunrise bursts over the Parisian skyline. “That is always time consuming, but my friends also find plenty of hours in the day for both their mistresses and their politics. I suppose I never felt the impulse.”

“I thought I heard one of your friends teasing and saying you were rather intrepid for a man who had no woman he loved,” Valjean says, finding himself talking more with Enjolras than he does with most people other than Cosette. “But I thought perhaps they just might not know that you did.”

Enjolras laughs softly, but there’s grief within the sound. “Oh, no. I keep no secrets from my friends. We are a family, after all. Bound together by love of the same cause, and years of friendship.” Enjolras’s voice cracks ever so slightly, his words growing heavy.

“You’ve lost good friends today.” Valjean almost clasps Enjolras on the shoulder, but he isn’t sure if the touch would be welcome, so he refrains, for now. “Not just compatriots.”

“Two of the best men I knew.” Enjolras glances over at Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Combeferre, Bossuet, and Joly, who stand nearby, a gleam of deep love in his eyes. “Bahorel and Prouvaire. Bahorel had a laugh you could never forget, and a formidable loyalty to those he chose as his own. Prouvaire had an absolutely astonishing soul, and poetry that could make any man cry, even if I don’t understand the finer points of the art form.” Enjolras touches his undone cravat, a bright-red against the more muted colors of the rest of his clothing. Perhaps a gift from the friends he mentioned. Then, his voice goes deeper, a dangerous anger puncturing the words. “Some of the national guardsmen executed Prouvaire point blank. It’s why I’m afraid the police inspector inside will meet his end here.”

Valjean tenses at that, Javert’s presence is a problem for him in a million ways even as he wishes to get him out of here unscathed. Javert is a thorn in his side. Javert could turn him in. Javert keeps turning up, and yet Valjean doesn’t want to see him killed. A strange sympathy for the police inspector wells up in Valjean’s chest, a sympathy of which he doesn’t entirely understand the root.

“I’m sure some people find it odd,” Enjolras continues, his words holding the ring of a confession. “My lack of a mistress or interest in marriage. But I have all I need with my friends.”

Valjean pauses, hesitant to share anything about himself with anyone, the instinct ingrained so deeply within him he doesn’t know how to undo it. He’s afraid to undo it.

“I understand.” Valjean speaks the words before he’s ready, but he does understand, and it’s almost a relief to hear Enjolras make his own admission. Their lives are very different, but that feeling is the same. “I have a daughter, you see. Not my blood, but…” Valjean trails off for a moment, an image of Fantine coughing until her whole body shook overtaking his memory. “…but my own nevertheless. The life I’ve led has never truly offered me the opportunity for marriage and the like, but then again I also haven’t found I desired any of that. So I don’t find it odd at all, if you want the opinion of an old man.”

Concern floods Enjolras’ face, his eyes widening in alarm. “You have a daughter and yet you gave yourself up for another man to leave? I didn’t know…I…” Enjolras is inarticulate now, and it’s a far cry from the beautiful ease of his earlier speech, the words he spoke to the crowd like a hymn caught in the wind. Valjean remembers how those words sunk into his old soul, watching as the flames of hope came alive in the eyes of the men surrounding him. Not hope for their own lives, necessarily, but hope for the future they all believe in.

Valjean does clasp Enjolras’ shoulder now. “Easy, lad. I know what I’m doing. I’ll be all right.”

Enjolras frowns, the earlier gravity returning. “I am far from certain that any of us are going to be all right, I’m afraid. I hate to see your daughter lose you. I’m sure she needs you.”

“I’ll be all right,” Valjean repeats.

He cannot say I faked my own death to escape a prison ship. He cannot say I once snuck into a convent by hiding in a coffin. He cannot say I have been through stranger things, and somehow survived. He’s honestly not sure if he will survive. But he has to try. He has to try to get Cosette’s young man back to her. Even if it means losing her, Valjean wants her happiness. She deserves her happiness. She deserves more than an old man like him.

Valjean’s eyes flick to Marius for the briefest of moments, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Enjolras. Enjolras looks at Marius and back at Valjean again, some kind of recognition flashing in his face that he doesn’t voice.

“I don’t suppose there’s any way I can convince you and your friends to leave the barricade?”

Valjean speaks before Enjolras can, hardly knowing what he’s saying.

A sad smile graces Enjolras’ features as the sun comes up fully over the barricade, gold dripping from the ends of his hair when the light strikes him.

“We will not surrender. My friends and I will do this together as we have so many other things in our lives these past years. We will survive together, or we will not.”

There’s a finality in Enjolras’ words among the grief and the hope and the unshakeable love Valjean hears.

“That kind of family is a beautiful thing to possess,” Valjean says, his words turning tremulous, and he clears his throat against the wave of emotion crashing over him. “That kind of family, and something to believe in.”

Enjolras blinks, wiping away a stray tear falling from his eye. “Those two things are all I have ever needed. Perhaps some might say that my lack of a mistress means I do not love, but that is not the truth.” Enjolras glances over at his friends again, and then at the sun casting the barricade in a golden glow, the light of a new day dawning. The dawn of the sixth of June. “I love so much I feel it might burst out of me at any moment. And sometimes it does.”

“I understand.” Valjean stands up at the same time as Enjolras, putting out his hand for the lad to shake. “I truly do.”

Enjolras accepts the handshake, his hand warm with life and kindness. “I hope that you find your way back to your daughter, citizen. Her name is?”

“Cosette,” Valjean says, something powerful filling him up as he says his child’s name, even more determined to get the Pontmercy boy back to her. He has never felt the kind of romantic feelings for someone like she possesses for that young man, but he does know what it is to deeply love, because she taught him.

“Cosette,” Enjolras repeats, handling the name with care. “Thank you for sharing a piece of yourself with me. It’s always nice to share something in common with someone when you didn’t expect it.”

Valjean nods, letting go of Enjolras’ hand. “It is. Thank you for talking with an old man.”

Enjolras smiles again before going back over to Combeferre and Courfeyrac, who each put an arm around him.

There’s still the matter of Javert inside the Corinthe. There’s still the matter of getting Cosette’s young man out of here. There’s still the matter of surviving long enough to do that. But Valjean marvels at the life on this barricade that is so obviously destined to end in death.

He marvels at the love all around him.

More words from Enjolras’ speech echo in his head, louder than the footsteps of the soldiers and the cannon fire on the other side of this chaotic, mismatched pile of wood that is the only thing standing between them and eternity.

Whence shall arise the shout of love, if it be not from the summit of sacrifice?

[faintlyradiant]

♡ - friendship headcanon: What does it take to be considered their friend? How many friends do they have or have they had? Were or are any of them mortal?

// Answering this one OOC because Eric wouldn’t be as forthcoming: 

Eric is a fairly friendly dude, but he’s massively protective on Santino’s behalf. Which means that when it comes to the Coven of the Articulate, he’s pretty wary, and you generally have a better chance of befriending him if you’re not buddies with, say... Marius. Or Thorne. And he’s not super keen on former Children of Darkness either. Or Lestat, tbh. ...You see what I mean.

I hc that he’s got quite a few friends through Maharet, from various corners of the world, who don’t appear in the Chronicles, but his close friends are really Santino, Jesse, Mael, and Angelus. He’s definitely had casual friendships with mortals, but he’s too nomadic most of the time to form long-lasting ones.

[orthographewrites]

💝 (unless it's too late to take out the trash for marius and robin idfk idfc)

send in a ‘💝’ for a random special valentine’s day kiss:(not accepting!)

On the Collarbone/Lips/Neck: 

Valentine’s Day, one of few days a year Robin wanted nothing but to gleefully enjoy from the morning hours until the night lured him to sleep. One could roll their eyes at his enchantment in terms of a commercial holiday, but to him, it struck with wonder and he more so viewed the day as a classic movie of romance. Birds chirping and playing their singsong tunes to flaunt the lovestruck main couple soon to declare their hidden desires in a playful melody; whilst their feet tapped alongside a choreographed set piece to perfect the one true kiss the audience was begging for at that point. They were holding their breaths by now, hands on top of their mouth to discourage any further sounds of gasping as one of the main leads braced themselves for the end of the scene. 

Robin, however, found himself in the image of a cupid more so than the main lead in these scenarios, fawning over the couple and wanting nothing but to shoot them with an arrow of ‘happily ever after’. It sounded strange coming from a person who disliked being single, but a track record of falling for people way past Valentine’s Day and breaking up with them before (or shortly after) had prompted him to keep it low. He had celebrated two of them as a taken man, today to be his third, and for once Robin was not to take the easy route in terms of a proper date. Ever since the start of his relationship with Marius he had found himself within the mindset of his boyfriend, accepting his wishes to keep them lowkey – Robin wasn’t needy in that sense, after all – but today they were doing it his way. ( @alicemorganwrites )

Robin had waited outside the clinic until the familiar sight of Marius and Pia had caught him, strutting up to them both with a not-so-secret smug on his face, that made him looked closer to a child that had slipped out of the hands of trouble, than an adult about to kidnap his boyfriend before he had a chance to say no. “You’re coming with me”, was the simple demand right before he waved off Pia and dragged Marius away with a firm grip on his hand. Puzzled questions followed, along with Marius adding that he should at least go home and change for this mysterious adventure of theirs. Robin didn’t care and instead nudged him into a taxi and not until they were already fast-moving did he care to reply. “Well, it’s Valentine’s Day and I know how you get with dates so… we are not having home-cooked today, it’s as easy as that.” 

He wasn’t going to overdo it, of course, but Robin could proudly announce he had booked a table at a downtown restaurant, a cozy and hidden gem that nuzzled up behind an alley. Live music was to be presented, crafted to charm the already smitten guests throughout the evening with a (to his opinion) twice as charming and handsome singer. A few roses were set to be delivered to their table upon arrival, which was as far as a pamper Robin was willing to push when it came to Marius – but he simply had to accept at this point. No reason to fuss about a lost cause. 

The coming two hours were grand, in Robin’s opinion. To have the choice and option to showcase his boyfriend in the open, to listen to him ramble about his day without ever slipping any proper details. Some could easily describe him looking like a fool with the dopey grin on his lips, warm from the bottom to the top at the topic that followed once Marius eased up and they ventured into the land of memories. Their road wasn’t the most glamorous, filled with thorns of mistakes both had thrown onto the pits of confusion and disagreement, but that never stopped Robin from recalling what they had constantly gained from one another both prior and after accepting their fate. Their feelings for one another had changed during the course of an evening, a single kiss of emotions neither had been able to comprehend, but they equally loved to acknowledge the strong connection of their friendship – and parts of Robin knew by default that he would never be able to find himself another best friend no matter where he and Marius ended up. To him, the evening cherished all they had and the things that they were – the things that crafted them and had forced them together with a magnetic friction from the moment they had allowed the other into their lives. 

The couple was lost in time until a waitress reminded them someone else had booked the table they were seated at and before they knew it they had trailed their way home to Robin’s apartment. For once he wasn’t even near drunk, merely tipsy as he had decided to keep himself at bay but it was still enough to throw him into a second mood as the two had thrown off their shoes and jackets; not wasting a second to turn the evening’s light pecks into a deeper appreciation as he grabbed Marius’ collar to drag the man closer to himself and locked their lips properly with one another where they belonged. He felt the corners curve upwards as the giddiness caught up and placed itself inside his stomach, unable to hold onto another smile as he moved Marius along with him into the living room, tipping himself back onto the couch before he invited Marius to join. 

“I love you, I just – “, Robin cocked his head to easy his view, sighing heavenly at the words that didn’t want to leave the tip of his tongue. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt… this strongly about any of the other people I’ve dated. I don’t understand how you keep doing it, but you have me hooked. You always have. I doubt I’d be the same man without you in my life.” His voice lowered and Robin placed one firm hand on Marius’ jaw, leaning forward once more to add a second meeting between their lips; this whilst the other hand pulled away some of the covering cloth from his shoulder, trailing down from the lips to the jaw right by his own hand. Then a quick stop by the back of the neck before he finished by offering Marius an inviting kiss on the exposed skin by the collarbone, to possibly end their evening with something more intimate than hand-holding – willing to offer Marius the last thing he had to show for today. But no matter what happened past this point, Robin was seated and pleased; holding on nothing but a secret wish that he would gain the possibility to spend the next Valentine’s Day with the same man. And maybe, just maybe, a few more. 

[marius-ffxiv]

Ⓐ - Whichever one you're feeling to judge Neeka!

Send me Ⓐ and my muse will rate yours:

Attractiveness:

repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || sexy || beautiful (for a Savage) || gorgeous || hot damn || would tap that || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words

Personality (From his perspective):

grating || irritating || frustrating || boring || confusing at best || awkward || unreasonable || psychotic || disturbing || interesting || engaging || affectionate || aggressive || ambitious || anxious || artistic || bad tempered || bossy || charismatic || appealing || unappealing || creative || courageous || dependable || unreliable || unpredictable || predictable || devious || dim || extroverted || introverted ||  egotistical || gregarious || fabulous || impulsive || intelligent || sympathetic || talkative || up beat || peaceful || calming || badass || flexible

How likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending || fuck no! || never || no way || not likely || not sure || indifferent || I’m asexual || maybe || probably || it depends || fairly likely || likely || yeah sure || yes || would tap that || hell yes || fuck yes! || wishing that could happen right now || as many times as possible || we are already having sex

Level of Friendship:

never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends || good friends || best friends || fuck buddies || bosom buddies || practically the same person || would die for them || true friends || my only friend ||

First impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

Current impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

How good of a kisser:

worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || makes me moan || excellent || exciting || oh god they’re good || I dream about it || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || we haven’t kissed“Once more I am to give my impression of Dominique La’fleur, / The Thorn/. I have spoken in the past of her ability to stand upright without the assistance of anyone else, along with knowing exactly what she desires in life. A woman to be feared, certainly, as she requires naught else but her own determination to see her through her hardships. I should wonder if the rumors are to be true, that she believes the Twelve to be false as well. If that is true, perhaps one day I may see us speaking to one another instead of sharing steel. Until then, she’s an enemy and will remain as such until further notice.” - Marius Pyr Septim, the Written word of a Knight. [Thank you for the ask: @neekaxiv !]

[cafeleningrad]

5, 12, 14, 20 - shake that salt

5, 12, 14, 20 - shake that salt

tcha, tcha, and the peper as well, you asks are swell ;)

Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?*Voltron: *coughs* Kl/ance. Actually I heard from it before I watched the show from a friend, and it sounded interesting first but when I actually watched the show, I saw nothing remotely intriguing me or making comprehensible to me, why they're such a popular ship.And I really wouldn't have minded it yet a lot of too vocal sexuality headcanons about the characters, fan ranting, and ship bashing are sourcing from Kl/annce, sadly giving a bitter taste of this creative fandom. Further the claim "it is canon" is mere wishful thinking, and a simple interaction is not romantic canon - jesus, watch Vikings, then you have an idea what actual romantic canon looks like.A Song of Ice and Fire: San/Marg; yes, okay, I am biased as I dislike Margaery but even more I hate this ship for erasing all the interesting character traits and paints these two as "pastel femme couples, girls are only nice and pretty, only girls love is the best love uwu". Ugh, that attitude.

Is there an unpopular arc that you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?A Song of Ice and Fire: Theon Greyjoy and Catelyn Stark.They're obviously often despised characters; Theon, I adore for him being the most human characters with the most extreme lows and most resilient developements.Catelyn, I think, with all her flaws still is beautifully written with her her motherhood, her diplomatic skills, and especially the grief she constantly hides even though it hurts her too much. Her story is a tragic one.Voltron: I liked Keith and Allura bounding - and no, no romance was pushed here, you anti-k/alluras , seriously, chill. For those being the most vocal for "friendly relationships", you overreact yourself when you see your m/m-ship part X interacting with any woman.

Unpopular opinion about your fandom?Either my fandoms are too small for real drama, or in general the fandom atmosphere is filled with hysteria, out of thin air made-up accusations, and extremely immature, unreflected, impertinent, reckless behavior.

But @peaky blinders fandom: you rock, guys for all the cool gifs and art work.

What is the purest ship in the fandom?

ugh, I have something like an aversion against the word "pure" as it is misleading to "unproblematic" whereas I love interesting dynamics, functional or not.

But if it comes to that...Peaky Blinders: Ada Shelby/Freddy Thorne: They took "proletarians unite" too literal. And named their son after Karl Marx, hahaha!Vikings: Ragnar/Lagertha; I still love them interacting as they treat each other with mutual respect, and also are bound by friendship.ASOIAF: Jaime/Brienne; that obvious Beauty and the Beast parallel, Jaime does the silliest sacrificial moves to save her, she gets a Valyrian sword from him, beautiful eyes, "Ser Jaime", yadda, yadda...Ned/Cat; happily married, still having lots of sex, love their children, works just fine.Trystane Martell/Myrcella Baratheon: They like each other, they're cute, nothing else to say.Star Wars: Finn/Rey; fluffy, comforting, lovely dynamic (yes, I'm aware that I'm boring you guys here)Les Misérables: Marius Ponmercy/Cosette Fauchelevant: self-explanatoryCourfeyrac/Jean Prouvraire: I confess, I confess, the fluffiest of the fluffiest tooth rotting kitsch I ever commited myself to!

[theblackphoenixwritings]

-𝙒𝙝𝙮?- -𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙪𝙨 & 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙚

The crackling of the fire in the fireplace had been the only company Marius had longed for during that long and busy week.A curious contrast that of the noise of the fire, almost cheerful, with the silence of the snow falling outside, enveloping everything for several days now. That isolation was born out of his loyalty to his duty. He could not regret setting it aside for, he had to admit to himself, quite some time. That time had been filled by love and tenderness, by being close again to those he loved. It had been an intense and happy few weeks, Armand remaining always by his side, proud and devoted, his eyes full of love, Daniel who like Armand, never left Marius and was always there ready to offer his support and love. Thorne who despite being at least as busy as Marius, always found time to go to Marius to spend time together. And Lestat and Avicus, dear Zenobia, and Teskhamen.Marius had finally felt at peace and though he feared even to utter, within himself that word, happy.

Now the clutter in that room was a testament to his stubbornness, there were too many matters that had been left unfinished, too many things unfinished or to be corrected, and it was his specific duty to remedy and set things right. The desk was buried with pages and pages, written in elegant handwriting, open and closed books arranged one on top of the other, there were also ancient scrolls, photos and reports, documents about the activities of the immortals, law requests and drafts to be checked and finished, even complaints and stories and testimonies collected in order to give more attention to problems that might arise among the immortals. On the majestic ruby-red carpet that reached from the foot of the desk to the large bed, were scattered sketch pads, and sheets with barely drawn drafts, others finished, pencils and brushes, oil pastels and canvas boards. There was also the design of the large mural to be finished and checked, and it had to be harmonious throughout, it had to remember their history and their protagonists and pass it on.

All those studies were important and needed to be created with care and attention and then be supportive of the final project. Marius observed that confusion and sighed, resting his face in his hands. As his thoughts followed that chaos unable to make sense of how he had managed to create such a mess, gentle but firm knocks made themselves heard at his door. After a moment Thorne's gentle face peeped out, Marius smiled happily, leaning against the back of the large carved fine wooden stool, and with a wave of his hand invited his best friend in. He was always happy to see and talk with Thorne, was glad to see that he was well after recent events, glad in a way Marius could not give words to.

He knew, however, that Thorne, more than anyone else had made Marius' words his own, and between them it was often no longer necessary to use them. They understood each other with their look at each other, their friendship had become a deep and unbreakable bond. "Are you well? Do you need anything?" asked Marius as Thorne sat down in front of him. " It's strange I had come here, just to ask you these very questions. You are greatly missed." replied Thorne, settling into the red velvet armchair.

"I know I've beennot much present lately, but all this mess, it must lead me to put things in perspective and be able to support this court in every way. I have been putting this off and now I have to put it in order. You are always in my thoughts, even if I am not there with you." Marius knew that might sound like a weak excuse, but Thorne was as devoted to that family as Marius was and knew well that some things took time and detachment. " I just wish you would remember that you are no longer alone. We're here if you need a hand. And certainly we are not senators from ancient Rome, but we are here for you, and you know how precious you are to us. What I mean is that you can lean on me as well as Daniel and Armand and all the others who love you. Remember that you can share any burden or thought with us." Thorne, wanted Marius to be ready to accept that those who loved him were ready to be his support; he was no longer alone.

" Well it seems that even these gods, in whom I do not believe, somehow blessed me. Who knows maybe it was just your Thor." said Marius, with bright eyes and a gentle smile. " Why?" asked Thorne puzzled. He did not see what the gods could have to do with his words. " Because he has given me a friend who has the heart to listen to me when I speak, to see me when I am dejected, to walk by my side when I go astray, to show me the way with his presence, for the gift of his presence and his love. For I have found a friend and a brother, for I have never had one in my immortality, not so close to my heart, not so pure and strong in his friendship toward me." It was Thorne's turn to smile and have his eyes glaze over. " Whether this is because of the gods or a higher will, it matters little, but my will to stand by your side is unchanged and ever faithful."

[fenicenera83]

26. What they would do if stuck in an elevator with [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]?

Marius locked in an elevator? I think he would be the calm gentleman waiting for the damn mechanical thing to start up again XD!

If he were with Armand, in my opinion, they would be next to each other, but a little far apart, staring into each other's eyes all the time. And stare at each other in the same way that a man who has spent days in the desert stares at an oasis.As time passes the smile on their faces widens. Armand clutching his wrist, under his coat folded over his arms, Marius remaining all too still. Do I think they will resist until the elevator opens again to clasp each other in passion? No... I don't think so!

If he were with Daniel I imagine they would enjoy spending time talking softly and hugging each other, caressing each other's hands and faces. After all, why waste time if you can spend it giving yourself to the one you love? It's not like being locked there together is a problem anyway, quite the contrary. Extra time you can spend together.

What if he was with Thorne? XD I don't know how Thorne would react to being locked up somewhere! I think Marius would be able to read his mood right away, though, and would do anything to distract him and make him feel comfortable. The fact is that when they reopened the elevator, they found them sitting on the floor shoulder to shoulder laughing!

Thank you so much for the ask it was a pleasure and a lot of fun!

[theblackphoenixwritings]

Marius & Thorne Friendship ♡

[fenicenera83]

The beauty of friendship- Marius & Thorne

[fenicenera83]

∞MARIUS & THORNE∞

-Thorne loves stories, especially those of mythology, and of the ancient gods. So a little for fun, at first, he went to Marius with a large book of Nordic myths. Marius and Thorne spent the following nights talking and comparing notes on the collection of that book. Marius read aloud, in his low, warm tone, and Thorne listened, eyes closed, lying with his head resting on Marius' legs, as he imagined the wonders Marius' voice told him. And after those first few nights, whenever Thorne could, he went to find Marius with a new book for him to read. Marius was truly happy, to be able to spend time with what had become his greatest friend, and together, in that stolen time, it became even more clear to both of them, how much that unexpected meeting, so long ago, had been a true blessing.

-Marius had begun to notice that someone was leaving small wood-carved figurines on his desk. Not every day, and not on a regular basis, but the small, delightful figurines always appeared. It could be an eagle or a wolf, a small soldier with a shield, or a maple leaf. Each time it was different, each time more elaborate, as if the hand that created them had begun to relearn a lost art. It may have seemed a strange thing indeed, and even Daniel and Armand had witnessed that incredible little phenomenon, had been intrigued and a little troubled by it. Both were taken aback by the idea that Marius knew who was leaving them. Marius denied it with a smile. Then one summer evening, Thorne appeared at Marius' door with tears of joy in his eyes. A finely wrought chain of silver hung around his neck, two pendants hanging from it. Huginn and Muninn, Odin's ravens twinkled in the candlelight, thought and memory, that was their meaning. Marius knew it was Thorne who left those delightful wooden figurines, which he had placed in a glass case, on display in his office. Happy and proud to share the beauty and skill of his best friend. The ravens of Odin thought and memory perfectly encapsulated the core of their wonderful friendship, which is why Marius had chosen them for Thorne.

-Marius and Thorne had developed their own unique and special way of greeting each other. Different each time, but full of respect and dedication. Sometimes when Marius passed by engaged in something, and noticed Thorne near the path he was to follow, he would approach and place two gentle taps on his broad chest, Thorne would grin and rest his forehead on Marius'. Sometimes Thorne would notice Marius from afar, engaged in something or with someone, and look at him with a smile, when Marius' eyes then met his, Thorne would wink at him and Marius would laugh and shake his head. Sometimes Marius would stop, while he was engrossed in something, noticing Thorne, and approach to place a hand on his shoulder and give him a smile. Thorne, surprised, would respond by hugging him, and Marius would laugh, and allow himself to be hugged. These small gestures were their language, when they could not talk, or had to go about their respective chores. No matter, they always found a way, and a moment, to tell each other that their friendship was always in their hearts and thoughts.

[fenicenera83]

☪︎New headcanons for my beloved Marius ☪︎

There had been countless words, over the centuries, that had accompanied the name of Marius. A marble god, an incarnate Christ, a legend who walked through the ages, a painter of embodied marvels in bewitching colors, a sage, a seeker of knowledge. The reality is that Marius had always heard a single word resonate within him: Keeper. He who cared for others, for centuries, others had fully experienced an immortality, in which he, had only been able to walk half. That had been his purpose and his burden, as well as his pride, to keep, to pay attention, all of that had been with him up to this modern age. So much had been silently asked of him, and Marius had always given, often, even renouncing his personal well-being. Not a martyr, far from him that word, but a defender, a bulwark for the continuity of their existence. Marius had always persevered, even in pain, even in anguish, even if many of his fears and questions and anguish came from that role of guardian. Until all that he had known and accepted was over. Everything, in a few moments, the goal, the effort, the pain and the honor. What was left was a numb soul, or rather, numb to his own pain.Much had happened and much had flown under the inexorable hourglass of time. Marius had loved again and suffered again, he had closed himself off again, and again he had let himself be tempered by the most austere part of himself. Everything had changed, with the desire and the realization of those laws that should have always marked the walking of blood drinkers through time. Marius had a purpose again, new acquaintances, new friends, always busy with something or someone. And finally, again, he felt his true self scratching insistently against the walls of his breastbone. The desire to be present had returned, to be a guardian of time. In all of this, Marius had realized that the little free time he had was precious. He had realized that the time had come to be his own keeper as well. Marius had started to take care of himself, aware that it was something he had never really done. He had pushed a lot under the mists of a 'not now' or 'there are much more important things'. Now, however, Marius, after dedicating himself with passion and attention to every task, or person who needed his attention, after, dedicated himself to that long hot bath, or to that book he had never read and always in his thoughts, to that text not translated into a language that all blood drinkers could consult, that museum to revisit, etc… Marius loved that little alcove of solitude, even if at times, he was forced to share it with his loved ones. Daniel and his films, Armand and his photos, Pandora and her studies, Bianca and her little eccentricities. And Thorne. A friendship born almost by chance, which had become authentic, generous and special. Strange to think how loving yourself can allow you to love even more those you already love deeply, yet this was what time, immortality, had brought to Marius.

Marius has never been a sleeper. Certainly not a lazy person. Never in any aspect of his life. But there was a part of him that loved the languor, the delicacy of being calm and satisfied. Those days when there was no need to be present or rush to do anything, those days when Marius opened the balcony door to let the rich spring area enter. Marius filled the large red velvet bed with every interest, books, sketchpads, notes and photos. He spent hours lying there enjoying those little things. And when the night got darker, Marius enjoyed the frivolous and perfumed breeze, dozing off, calm and serene. Those little naps were a source of great joy, often, Marius woke up from them with a smile, aware that he had walked in happy moments, with those who had been beside him, on his journey towards immortality. Satiated with all those colors that rubbed against his eyelashes, before returning to the world, a eulogy to his life. Marius was not lazy, but some things can only be appreciated with closed eyes, only with the mind of the heart. That happiness was the invitation to seek the future one.

Marius didn't like the cold, but he loved the snow. Was that division strange? Not for Marius. Marius had always been divided into extremes, everything about him held back and controlled on one side, while on the other everything screamed endless passion and abandon. But the snow, which had been tied to horrible memories, now brought joy and lightness to his soul. The snow had given him his dearest friend. The snow had brought him serenity, from a window, while a crackling fireplace took care of a delicate but joyful sharing. The snow in the present had given him, faces and aspects of the people dear to him, that he didn't think he could welcome. Like Louis who, just for once, plucked up the courage to play, throwing a snowball in Lestat's face. Smiles and precious. Thorne trying, over-gentlely, to convince Daniel, that no, the snowman they were building, couldn't hold Thorne's Viking war-axe. God only knew how Daniel had discovered it or how the idea had come to him! Pandora smiling ethereal, with snowflakes in her hair and on her face, framed by that effortless and luxurious smile that a young woman had centuries ago, when she walked like a goddess in the mortal world. And Armand. Armand who uncertain, but determined, with bright eyes and a delicate blush on his cheeks, caressed the front of Marius's red coat, trying to free it from the snowflakes. The snow didn't fall anymore, but those delicate caresses didn't stop. A delicious soft laugh left Marius's lips, a moment of stiffness touched Armand, then a frown, followed by an intensifying red in his cheeks and the sparkle in his eyes. Then the face resting on Marius' chest, and, the smile that told how, the sound of that laughter, and the beating of that heart, filled Armand with peace.

Thank you for reading!

[fenicenera83]

Moodboard/Friendship: Marius & Thorne

Because i love them ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ !!!