#no axe to the frozen sea. you know.

[dillydedalus]

book asks: 4, 10, 12, 14!

god looking through my list this year's reading has been kinda mid.

4. Did you discover any new authors that you love this year?

not really unfortunately... most authors i've really enjoyed/have read more than one book from this year are authors i've read previously.

there's a bunch i've read one work from and am interested in reading more based on that, e.g. kathryn harlan for the short story "fiddler fool pair" (all of fruiting bodies is pretty good but that's probably my favourite single thing i've read all year - sadly she doesn't have anything else out yet), antonio tabucchi (pereira maintains), emanuel litvinoff (the lost europeans), imre kertesz (fatelessness), seichi matsumoto (point zero). also i didn't looove my lesbian novel (liked it tho!) and have been wanting to read the ravicka series for years anyway but it did motivate me even more!

10. What was your favorite new release of the year?

i'm gonna say martyr! by kaveh akbar which made me cry on the u-bahn, always a plus. also really enjoyed this year's instalment in the singing hills novella cycle by nghi vo (the brides of high hill), which has Bad Vibes and fox demons.

12. Any books that disappointed you?

the familiar by leigh bardugo wastes a really cool concept (crypto-jewish ladino-based magic in post-reconquista spain) on an almost insultingly cliche plot. like there's a tournament i thought we were done with tournaments...

butter by asako yuzuki has been hyped up as this subversive feminist thriller but it's unfortunately extremely boring, repetitive and on-the-nose. did you know that if you put butter on your food it will taste better but social attitudes around food and eating are sexist so watch out!

hangman by maya binyam. very highly regarded but it just did absolutely nothing for me. i put it down at 60% bc it felt fucking interminable and i remember precisely nothing about it. so your mileage may vary.

14. What books do you want to finish before the year is over?

i haven't really been able to concentrate on/prioritise reading in december due to ~world events so i don't have any specific goals tbh... i'd like to finish everything i'm currently reading/have on loan from the library and read a good year by polis loizou bc it's about cypriot christmas superstitions so if i don't read it soon i'll have to wait another year - but that's under 200 pages so easily doable.

[bookshelfdreams]

*shows up to the trend 5 weeks late with starbucks*

You know the drill, check out the list, answer the poll, I love you

[lycheedr3ams]

Death's Angel

Part 1: Looking Death in the Eye

royal!fem!reader x executioner!konig

Summary: It's 1554. You're one of the eight daughters of the Austrian royal family, and your parents do everything they can to ensure their kingdom is prosperous and peaceful. No royal court is complete without their hand-picked executioner, one who stands out against the sea of black, faceless bodies that make up the profession. It just so happens that your family's new executioner, one who has made a name for himself far and wide for his skill with the axe, has caught your eye and ruined you for good.

Warnings: MDNI! eventual filthy smut, mutual pining, forbidden love, death (konig is an executioner duh), mean sisters, mentions of medieval-type violence, overbearing parents, konig is brooding, maybe dark themes bc reader likes seeing him kill people?

Part 2

.......

series inspired by the art below!

If there was anything your parents taught you, it was to never mix with the lower, working classes. You were royalty: there was never any need for you to lift a finger, let alone even ask for anything. Everything will be served to you on a silver platter. The heads of your enemies were no exception.

You grew up watching executions like it was a normal family affair, like it was the same as lazily observing geese land in the pond behind your castle as you sat with your chin in your hand. It was always the same. Your family's star executioner, up until now, would force the victim on stage and enact whatever cruel punishment your king and queen parents decided. It was a routine. There was no malice or passion behind it, it was just a job. Chopping heads off blocks was the same as completing a to-do list for most executioners, and you grew accustomed to seeing bloodied heads rolling over cobblestone.

But your family's loyal executioner died suddenly. The peasantry said he was possessed, that the devil had finally taken the man's soul for all the heinous acts he committed. Whatever the case, your family needed a new executioner, fast. It wouldn't be long before people committed more crime, knowing the axe of judgement was temporarily frozen above their heads. you could hear your parents frantically whispering in the dead of night over which executioner to choose. there were so many contenders for the spot. you couldn't have cared less who the new executioner would be. executioners, though their jobs were necessary for functioning society, were spurned and looked down on. a necessary evil, as some may say. your parents taught you to never speak to the executioner, much less even look his way. not out of respect, but rather to keep your eyes clean from the monstrosity of whatever man could live with cutting off heads each day.

the day eventually came when your parents decided on a new executioner. they seemed pretty excited about it, and decided to get right to the "festivities" to commemorate the occasion. the new executioner would, the moment he reached the royal ground, execute the line of prisoners whose deaths had been delayed since the passing of your previous executioner. You strode elegantly, as you were taught, to your seat on the elevated surface as the victims were lined up on the lower stage. the crowd watched anxiously. there was a different feeling in the air. everyone seemed even more scared than normal. the blood-stained oak chopping block had never seemed more foreboding.

and then you saw him. out of your family's royal carriage - the oldest and dingiest one, mind you - this giant of a man stepped out and scanned the crowd. everyone went silent. not even the birds dared to sing as he walked across the stage silently, his axe slung over his shoulder, the wooden boards underneath his jagged leather boots creaking loudly. he was nothing short of a giant. his shoulders were broad, and even though his chest was clothed with black cloth, you knew he was toned. he carried that monstrous axe like it was nothing but a butter knife. the only thing that reminded you that he was, in fact, human was the faint reflection of the sunlight in his eyes from deep within his black hood.

your breath caught in your chest as you observed him. he stood still by the chopping block, so naturally that you felt your spine tingle. your father bellowed out the reason for the execution spree - something about celebration - but your mind was completely fogged, filled with nothing but morbid curiosity for this new death-bringer who would be living in your castle. the executioner was then commanded to turn towards your family and bow before the executions began. this grim reaper turned his broad back and faced your family. his eyes scanned each one of you, but they lingered on you the longest. you felt like a gust of ice wind had just raced up from his gaze alone, manifested somehow by whatever mental prowess he seemed to possess. He bowed lowly to you and your family before standing, glancing at you once more, and then facing the crowd.

your father yelled out with raised arms, "my kingdom! this is your new judge, your executioner! the one who will bring you to justice from here forth is Konig!"

king. His name means king, you thought. how ironic. that a man with such a name - likely an alias - would be performing the work that no one dared do.

for the first time in your life, you watched avidly as this new executioner, as konig, swiftly cut each victims' head off like he was slicing butter. konig commanded respect. even the crowd was silent as he worked, his grunts and the dull sound of the axe meeting wood and bone were the only things to be heard as he performed his duty. it should have scared you. he should have scared you. and when the last victim's head rolled off the block and konig rested against his up-turned axe, you released a breath that you didn't know you had been holding.

hope you enjoyed! this will likely be multiple parts, and a slow burn. i just love this so much

[doumadono]

Warnings: violence, viking!Dabi, viking!Shoto, earl!Endeavor, viking!Hawks, viking!Natsuo, fem!reader, viking themes, smut (deflowering, p in v, blood)

Summary: as you reconcile with Touya, the dynamics between you two intensify, and with his departure alongside Shoto and Hawks, you find yourself grappling with the profound implications of Touya's gift, navigating a new chapter in your life

Word count: circa 8.1k

A/N: if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, please let me know ♥

KVITRAVN - MHA VIKING AU • MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER • NEXT CHAPTER

ACT IV - IN THE VEIL OF DARKNESS

Several days had slipped by.

Touya, consumed by the impending expedition, had become an elusive figure in your world. The anticipation of the journey ahead, alongside his youngest brother Shoto, Hawks, and a group of warriors, left little room for casual conversations. The Great Hall bore witness to his unwavering focus as he meticulously prepared, sharpening his weapons with an intensity that hinted at the challenges that lay ahead.

In the midst of the preparations, you frequently encountered Touya in the hall. His presence was undeniable, a brooding silhouette engrossed in the art of perfecting his sword and axe. The air around him crackled with an energy that mirrored the impending adventure.

Yet, despite the shared space and the fleeting glimpses, there was a palpable silence between you two. Whenever your paths crossed, he would promptly withdraw, leaving unspoken words hanging in the air.

In the meantime, Shoto, on the other hand, endeavored to draw nearer to you, under the impression that you harbored an interest in him. However, you gracefully declined each of his advances. Yet, in the face of his advances, you maintained a graceful poise, politely but firmly declining each of his attempts.

The evening was bathed in a cold, biting chill, the kind that seeped into the bones. As the sky painted itself in hues of indigo and ebony, you found yourself entrusted with a task that seemed simple on the surface but proved to be more challenging than expected.

The warriors' clothes, worn and stained from battles past, awaited a thorough cleansing. The Great Hall had called upon you to fetch water from the bay, two heavy pails that seemed determined to resist your every attempt to carry them. Wrapped in a thick fur that clung to your shoulders, you ventured into the frosty night, a lone figure navigating the shadows.

The bay was a silent expanse, its waters reflecting the pale light of the moon. The air was crisp, filled with the briny scent of the sea. With each step, the crunch of frost-coated grass beneath your boots echoed in the stillness of the night.

As you reached the bay, the water shimmered in the moonlight, a tranquil contrast to the arduous task ahead. The pails, when filled, felt like anchors, their weight digging into your weary arms. The wind whispered tales of distant lands, carrying with it a numbing cold that penetrated through layers of clothing.

The journey back to the Great Hall became a battle against the elements. The fur draped around your shoulders provided little solace against the biting wind, and the weight of the water-laden pails seemed to increase with every step. Your breath formed delicate clouds in the frigid air as you pressed forward, determination masking the discomfort.

The Great Hall loomed in the distance, its warm glow promising respite from the harsh elements. With each step, the anticipation of a crackling fire and the warmth of shelter spurred you on.

As you struggled with the weight of the water-filled pails, a smooth, male voice sliced through the cold. The offer of help hung in the air, a surprising interruption to your solitary struggle. Instinctively, you refused, a reflex born of independence and perhaps a hint of pride.

Yet, within moments, the burden was lifted from your frozen hands. Bewilderment etched across your face, you slowly raised your head to find the source of assistance. A shock coursed through you as your eyes met those of Touya, draped in a thick, black bear fur.

Silence lingered for a moment before you managed a nod, acknowledging his unspoken gesture of aid. The air crackled with unspoken tension as the pails now rested in Touya's capable hands. The night seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the exchange of words that hung in the chilly air.

You suddenly uttered, your voice measured, "I appreciate the help, but I had it under control."

A chuckle escaped Touya's lips, warm against the icy backdrop. "Sure looked like it," he remarked, a teasing glint in his turquise eyes. Touya's gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Sensing your reluctance, he ventured, "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

You nodded, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air. The memory of Touya witnessing to Shoto's unexpected kiss, cast a shadow over the present.

Touya, breaking the awkward silence, continued, "Listen, about that night…" He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I should have said something. I should have…"

You interrupted, your voice a mix of reluctance and honesty, "It's in the past, Touya. Water under the bridge. And just so you know, I didn't want that. Your brother was drunk."

"I avoided talking to you," he confessed, his voice tinged with bitterness, "because I thought you were into Shoto. I thought he'd be better for you in so many ways than I could ever be, Y/N."

His words halted you in your tracks, and you turned to face him, your expression a mix of surprise and bitterness. "Why say it now?" you asked, your tone edged with a bitter curiosity.

Touya sighed. "Because I need you to know the truth. I need you to understand why I've been distant. My scars, my fucked-up character — I didn't think I was enough for you. I thought I was saving you from someone like me. Not to mention I brought you here against your will."

The truth hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, the silence between you was almost suffocating. Lowering your head, you took a deep breath before opening up to him, "Despite all that, Touya, you've always been kind to me. You've seemed to genuinely care, and I appreciate all the little gestures."

A hint of surprise flickered in Touya's eyes, and you continued, "Even tonight, when you helped me with the pails, it didn't go unnoticed. And about your scars, both physical and mental — I don't mind. They don't define you." You paused, reflecting on a specific memory, "Remember the night we kissed? I felt comfortable, Touya. Despite the circumstances, I felt a connection. Your scars never mattered to me then, and they don't now. And I have no idea why you like me. I'm nothing but a thrall."

Touya's frown deepened as the word "thrall" escaped your lips. "Don't say that," he hissed, a hint of intensity in his voice.

You chuckled bitterly, "But it's the truth. I'm just a slave to you and your family. After these months, I've gotten used to it, even if it's still hard to be polite at times when people treat me like a piece of meat."

The weight of your words hung in the air, and Touya gently placed the pails on the ground. Cupping your face in his gloved hands, the soft touch of thick leather against your reddened cheeks felt surprisingly comforting. "Don't ever call yourself that," he insisted, his eyes searching yours. "You're not just a thrall to me. You're… you."

You met his gaze, a mix of confusion and gratitude in your eyes.

Touya continued, his voice softer now, "Around you, I don't have to pretend. I don't have to be someone I never was, you know? Only with you, I feel like I can be myself fully."

His words lingered in the cold night air, a vulnerable admission that cut through the complexities of your situation. The touch of his gloved hands on your face, an unexpected tenderness, conveyed a depth of emotion that defied the roles you both found yourselves in.

In that moment, beneath the moonlit sky, Touya, for the first time, allowed himself to be seen, and you, in turn, found solace in the unexpected warmth of his touch.

Silence settled between you and Touya, a quiet understanding born from the unspoken exchange. You nodded, acknowledging his words, and without further discussion, you both resumed the journey back to the Great Hall.

The moon cast its gentle glow on the path ahead as you walked side by side. The rhythmic sound of boots on frost-coated ground echoed in the stillness.

As you approached the Great Hall, the door creaked open, and you both stepped inside, the warmth enveloping you like a familiar embrace. The pails were set down, and the flickering light of the hearth danced on the walls.

"Thanks, Touya. I appreciate the help," gratitude filled your voice as you thanked him for his assistance.

A small, genuine smile curved on his lips as he removed his gloves and fur. "It's no problem. Let me know where you want these," he gestured to the pails.

"The backroom," you replied, "Hilda and the other girls are there. We're doing laundry tonight."

With a nod, Touya complied, carrying the pails to the backroom.

As he entered, Hilda and the other thralls, caught off guard by the unexpected guest, momentarily stood up, bowing respectfully.

Touya, however, remained polite and offered his assistance. "Let me help you with that."

Hilda, blinking in surprise, tried to dissuade him. "Prince Touya, this is not a task befitting of your status. We can handle it."

Touya chuckled, a genuine warmth in his keen eyes. "I'm here to help. No need to treat me any differently. What can I do?"

Hilda reluctantly assigned him a task, and soon, the room buzzed with activity. Touya, alongside you and the other thralls, engaged in the laundry work. The atmosphere, once laden with tension, now hummed with a shared sense of purpose.

Conversations flowed naturally as you worked, the rhythmic splash of water and the occasional laughter blending into a harmonious melody. Touya, despite his royal status, interacted with the thralls on a personal level, breaking down the barriers that society had imposed.

As the laundry was washed and the room filled with the scent of soap and clean linen, Touya continued to lend a helping hand. Together with Hilda, he assisted in hanging the freshly laundered clothes, ensuring they would dry efficiently.

However, unbeknownst to all of you, a pair of sharp turquoise eyes observed the scene from a concealed vantage point. The eyes lingered on the group, absorbing the unexpected sight of Touya, a heir, engaging in the everyday tasks alongside thralls.

Hilda's gratitude was expressed through a gentle rub on Touya's shoulder. "Thank you, Touya."

He responded with a nod and a warm smile. "Anytime," he said sincerely. "You can always ask me for help if needed. I will do my best to assist."

The evening continued with the familiar sounds and scents of the kitchen. Pots clanged, and the aroma of simmering dishes wafted through the air as you busied yourself preparing supper for the earl Endeavor, his sons, and the departing warriors, including Hawks. The flickering flames in the hearth cast a warm glow over the room, but a sense of unease lingered within you.

Touya's presence had offered a respite from the isolation you often felt, but the worry about his well-being persisted. The failed attempt to gather information from Shoto had left you in the dark, and the unanswered questions weighed heavily on your mind.

Hilda, noticing your distraction, scolded you for bringing the young prince into the fold of daily duties like laundry. "You shouldn't involve the prince in such matters," she chided, her tone firm.

You listened to her admonishment, understanding the societal implications of your actions, yet you couldn't help but defend Touya. "He genuinely wanted to help. It's more than I can say for some others."

As the night unfolded, you focused on the task at hand, serving the prepared supper to the earl and his sons, hoping that the meal would provide a momentary respite from the weight of unanswered questions and the complexities of the world you found yourself entangled in.

Amidst the clatter of cutlery and the hum of conversation at the dinner table, your keen observational skills didn't fail to pick up on the subtle glances exchanged between Shoto and Hawks. They sat on opposite sides of the table, but a series of shared looks and silent nods hinted at some unspoken understanding. Though you couldn't quite discern the nature of their exchange, a feeling of unease settled within you.

Despite the undercurrent of mystery, your attention occasionally wavered as you found yourself caught in the interplay of glances with Touya. Whenever your eyes met his, a warmth spread across your cheeks, and a shy smile played on your lips. Touya's nods and the subtle touch of his hand when you refilled his cup with mead sent a flutter through your heart.

The atmosphere at the table, fraught with a mix of hidden agendas and unspoken emotions, contrasted sharply with the routine of serving and replenishing dishes.

The night unfolded in a flurry of activity. After the supper, you and the other thralls diligently cleaned the main chamber, ensuring every dish and piece of cutlery sparkled in the soft glow of candlelight. The earl Endeavor and his sons retired for the night, and as the main chamber returned to a state of quiet, the rhythmic sound of washing dishes and the occasional hum of conversation among the thralls echoed through the longhouse.

After the tasks were complete, and the main chamber restored to its usual order, you took a quick bath to wash away the remnants of the day. As you made your way back to your shared room, wrapped in a simple linen robe, you unexpectedly crossed paths with Touya in the hallway.

"Touya," you greeted him, a mixture of surprise on your face as you tightened the robe around your figure. "You startled me!"

He flashed a confident smile. "Hey Y/N. I was hoping I'd run into you before I leave tomorrow morning."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on your lips. "And what brings you seeking my company, my lord?"

"Well, it gets lonely in those grand chambers," he mused.

You couldn't help but laugh at his audacity. "Are you implying I'm your solution to loneliness, my lord?"

Touya's grin widened, and he nodded. "I guess so, yes. Plus, I can't resist the chance to spend more time with someone as captivating as you."

You rolled your eyes, but a playful glint danced in them. "You're quite the charmer, aren't you?"

"Only with the ones who matter."

After a moment of consideration, you nodded. "Alright. I'll stay with you tonight."

The warmth of Touya's chamber enveloped you as soon as you stepped in alongside him, the crackling fire from a fireplace casting a gentle glow.

You tightened the robe around you, feeling a sense of comfort and vulnerability in this shared space. The flickering shadows played on the walls, creating a dance of light and shadow.

With a graceful movement, Touya began to unbutton his white shirt. The flickering firelight highlighted the contours of his physique as he revealed the toned lines beneath the fabric. He folded the shirt with a practiced ease and placed it gently on a nearby chair, the white contrasting with the rich hues of the room.

As he laid on bed, Touya's eyes met yours, a silent invitation lingering in the air. He reached out, pulling you closer, and you could feel the warmth radiating from his scarred chest. The touch was both gentle and reassuring, a gesture that spoke of a shared vulnerability beneath the layers of status and circumstance.

You nestled against Touya, resting your head on his chest, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall as he breathed.

As the quiet moments passed, the inevitable topic of Touya's departure hung in the air like a lingering shadow. You couldn't shake the feeling of sadness that settled in your chest, and the words weighed heavily on your tongue. "Touya," you began, your voice soft but filled with genuine concern, "I can't help but worry about what might happen when you leave. Shoto… He's unpredictable, and I'm afraid he might try to hurt you."

Touya's expression softened, and he let out a gentle chuckle. "You're worried about me, huh?" he said, his eyes meeting yours as he tilted your head by catching your face between his thumb and forefinger.

You nodded, the worry etched on your face. "I've seen the tension between you two, and with the things that have happened, I can't help but be concerned."

Touya's hand found yours, his touch reassuring. "Listen, Y/N," he said, his tone gentle, "I appreciate your concern, but you don't need to worry about me. Shoto and I have our differences, yes, but I can handle myself. Plus, I've got a knack for avoiding trouble." A small smile played on his lips as he continued, "And here you are, worried about your own captor, how amusing."

You blinked, a mix of surprise and confusion in your eyes. "I just don't want anything bad to happen," you admitted. "Despite everything, you've been kind to me, and I don't want to see you hurt. Is it so hard to understand?"

"I appreciate that, I really do," he said. "But you don't need to worry about me. Focus on yourself, okay? Things will work out, and I'll find a way to handle Shoto. Just take care of yourself in the meantime when I'm gone."

Then, with a gentle lean, Touya bridged the remaining distance, capturing your lips in a slow and passionate kiss. The world outside faded away as the warmth of the moment enveloped you. His lips moved with a tenderness against yours.

As the kiss lingered, it held the promise of both solace and anticipation, a silent affirmation that in the midst of uncertainties, there existed moments of connection that could be cherished.

Touya's kiss was intense, a fervent embrace that drew you closer, your bodies molding together seamlessly. A pleasant buzz filled his mind as your lips danced with his, and he felt the alluring weight of your leg draped over his muscular thigh. With a smooth motion, his hand descended, fingers curving to grip the soft flesh of your exposed thighs.

In response, your nimble fingers wove through his white hair, eliciting a soft groan from Touya. A sudden, sharp tug sent a gasp escaping his lips.

Impatience guided his hands as he skillfully unraveled your robe, allowing it to slide off your shoulders, revealing the supple skin beneath. The sight before him left him breathless. "Y/N," he whispered, the words barely parting his lips, "You're so beautiful."

Mounting him fully with newfound confidence, you recognized there was no reason for shame. As the realization washed over you, you deliberately shed your robe, letting it fall to the side, baring your body completely to his keen gaze. Your lips were gently caught between your teeth as his calloused hands found their place on your hips, a slow ascent following the contours of your waist, finally reaching your breasts. His touch was tender, cupping them lightly.

You captured Touya's bottom lip between your teeth, the kiss deepening as you almost drew blood. The resulting pain elicited a loud moan from him, prompting him to assert control - he swiftly shifted, flipping you onto your back, pinning you to the furs beneath with the weight of his hips and his hands firmly securing yours above your head.

A soft grunt escaped you, followed by a whimper that sent a jolt of desire straight to his cock; it was alreadyt tenting in his dark pants.

Touya's mouth found its way to your neck, where he suckled with a fervor that left an angry mark, destined to be a bruise by tomorrow. Your arms instinctively curled around his neck, and you gasped softly, welcoming the pleasant weight of his dominance and the enveloping warmth that surrounded you in the charged intimacy of the moment.

Touya emitted a gruff sound; the truth was, he hadn't been with a woman in years, and the enticing warmth of your body, coupled with your deference and moans, was stirring a primal desire within him. With practiced skill, he unbuttoned his pants with one hand, letting them slide down his muscular thighs. In a swift motion, he kicked them off, unveiling his well-endowed shaft that. A gasp escaped him as the room's air enveloped his throbbing member, causing it to pulsate involuntarily.

Soft, breathy sounds emanated from your lips now as Dabi moved his hips against yours, his throbbing cock damp and solid against the gentle skin of your hip. You responded by wrapping your legs around his firm waist, pressing against him in a mutual, fervent embrace.

"Y/N," Touya murmured, his voice a low, lustful cadence. He descended down your body, nestling his face between the soft contours of your breasts. Warm breath, coming in soft pants, caressed your skin, sending shivers through you. His touch worked its magic; your nipples hardened under his skillful exploration. Touya took one into his mouth, suckling softly, the flat of his tongue tracing a tantalizing pattern again and again.

Firmly gripping the sides of his head, you filled his ears with the symphony of moans, the sounds now unceasing. Your movements became more fervent, heels digging into his firm ass as you squirmed against him.

Touya emitted a gruff, almost winded grunt, his desire evident. His fingers ventured southward, sliding between your thighs.

You sighed as his coarsed fingers touched your soft folds, finding them heated and slick, just for him.

Whispering soft words in a language Touya couldn't comprehend, you gently tugged on his hair, bringing him closer to seal your lips in an open-mouthed kiss. The exchange of tongues was a dance, each movement syncing seamlessly. Touya, guided by your touch, positioned himself at your entrance, teasingly rubbing his cock along your wet folds.

A whimper escaped you, only to be stifled by Touya's loose hair that fell to the side, playfully tickling your face and finding its way into your mouth, causing laughter to bubble between you. As he rested his weight on your body, Touya applied gentle pressure to the front of your neck with his free hand, a delicate squeeze accompanying the sensation. Simultaneously, he drove his rigid cock inside your willing body.

"Touya!" A cry of his name escaped your lips as you endeavored to relax, attempting to minimize the inevitable discomfort of the initial contact. Despite your efforts, the pain was unmistakable, casting a shadow over the shared intensity of the moment.

Lowering his head, Touya pressed a tender kiss to your temple, his lips brushing against your skin. His voice, laced with reassurance, urged you to take a deep breath.

Your eyes widened, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as Touya fully immersed himself within you. Your hands instinctively fisted in the furs around your head as you arched your back.

Touya, grunting at the sensation of tightness enveloping his cock, propped himself up over your form, holding still for a brief moment. As your gaze met his scarred face, lips parted and breath quickened, you smiled softly.

Touya's hand remained at your throat as he initiated a deliberate rhythm, pulling almost entirely away before plunging back in. With each of his controlled thrusts, a soft, breathy noise escaped you, spurring him on. His focus shifted to your flushed cheeks and pert breasts, rising and falling in tandem with your breath. Droplets of sweat traced paths between his shoulder blades and dotted his forehead, a single bead descending from the tip of his nose to splash onto your belly, prompting a gasp from you.

He paused in his movements, fully immersed within your wetness, savoring the intimate stillness that enveloped both of you.

Your hands sought purchase, gripping his thighs and tracing your nails over the taut muscles.

Touya, attuned to your desires, comprehended the silent cue. With a gentle release, he withdrew his hand from your throat and enveloped you in the shelter of his powerful arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

A soft whine escaped you at the subtle shift in angle, and as your moan caressed his ear, Touya withdrew, only to return with an impactful force, spreading your pussy wide with his cock. The intensity of the thrust nearly compelled a scream from you, your fingers trailing up his sweat-slicked, scarred back in response.

Touya emitted a low groan as he felt the clenching warmth of your pussy around him. Pulling back, he thrust into you with unrestrained force, over and over again. His teeth found the red mark he had imprinted earlier on the junction of your neck and shoulder, and his body moved with a raw intensity against yours. Your moans, a symphony of passion, intensified the desire pooling hotly in his belly. "Fuck, Y/N," Touya gasped loudly though gritted teeth.

One of your petite hands clutched his thigh, the fingernails like slivers of hot metal leaving an impression on his skin. The other hand wove into his long, white hair, a firm grip offering a delightful blend of sweet pain to complement the intense pleasure of your velvety, gummy walls embracing his pulsating cock. The sounds of his hips colliding with the backs of your pale thighs, his grunts and groans, and the whimpers escaping your lips were the only sounds to fill the chamber, creating a sensual symphony that left Touya buzzing from head to toe.

The fusion of your arousal and bloo, the lingering traces of your virginity, a gift offered to Touya, had become so intense that it now adorned the insides of your thighs and the front of his abdomen, covering the vertical strip of white hair running from his belly button to his groin in slickness. The wet, squelching noises echoed softly as he withdrew and thrust forcefully back into you.

Touya seized your tender lips with his own, engaging in a fervent kiss. His teeth grazed your tongue and the corners of your mouth. Another sharp pull on his white strands forced his mouth from yours, and as you gazed into his turquoise eyes, you let out a tiny gasp. "T-Touya…"

The vice-like grip of your soft walls around his dick prompted a strangled moan to escape Touya, his eyes briefly shutting in response. When they reopened, your back had arched, pressing your breasts firmly against his scarred chest. Your head tossed back, and the hold you had on his hair had loosened. A moment of suspended breath passed before it was replaced by a whimper.

Touya emitted a drawn-out, deep moan, his brow furrowing as you fluttered around his rigid shaft, coating it in a palpable surge of wetness mingled with traces of blood. The sensation sent shivers down his spine, and he sensed himself edging closer to the brink of his own release.

"Touya," you breathed, touching his cheek softly.

He sighed, surrendering to the sensation as he kept moving, albeit at a slower pace.

"Touya," you asserted, gripping his throat firmly, eliciting a raspy breath from him.

His climax engulfed him hard, prompting a whine akin to a wounded animal as he thrust into you with every ounce of intensity, releasing his essence into your yielding pussy.

Your hand descended to press against his chest, and he rode the waves of pleasure, his head dropping forward, lost in the overwhelming sensations, his mind devoid of coherent thoughts. "Fuck," he snorted. "Oh, fucking shit."

Your hurried breaths slowly brought him back to the present, grounding his focus. Tenderly, he draped his form over yours, planting wet kisses along the side of your face, his flaccid cock still nestled inside your folds. As your legs eased down to the bed, your fingers traced gentle patterns across the skin of Touya's muscular back.

Once your breathing had steadied, and the sheen of sweat on Dabi's body had mostly evaporated, he rolled off you onto his side.

You reached up, pushing a few stray strands of mussed hair away from Touya's face, tucking into his arms afterwards.

Touya cradled you, his arms providing a secure embrace, and he sighed, the lure of sleep tugging at the edges of his awareness. Pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head, he murmured, "I didn't hurt you, right?"

You nestled closer, content, and mumbled, "I'm more than good, Touya."

Touya held you close to his chest, his strong arms wrapped securely around you, and he gently rubbed your shoulders. "Thank you," he said, the words soft and sincere.

With a slight frown, you looked up at him. "Why are you thanking me?" you asked, curiosity etched in your gaze.

Touya met your eyes and explained, "You're the first woman I've been with in many years, and I want you to know it wasn't just about… you know, getting laid. It just felt like the right thing to do, to be that intimately close with you."

You fell quiet for a while, tracing patterns on his chest and abdomen with your fingertips. Eventually, you responded, your voice soft and sweet, "Did I let you down with how inexperienced I am?"

Touya's head shook, the gentle curve of a smile on his lips. "No, not at all. It was perfect. You were perfect. I appreciate you letting me claim you as mine."

You blinked, propping yourself up on his chest, curiosity in your eyes. "What does it mean, being yours?"

Touya met your gaze and explained while wrapping a strand of your hair around his forefinger, "It means I want you to be my woman, but only if you reciprocate my feelings."

A blush crept across your cheeks as you reevaluated everything that had transpired between the two of you — from the day he took you captive after the tragic events in your village to bringing you to his settlement and making you a thrall. Despite the lingering anger and sorrow in your soul, you couldn't deny the undeniable spark in your heart whenever you were close to him, whenever his eyes met yours.

After careful contemplation, you silently agreed, the unspoken understanding settling between you two as you gave him a slight nod.

Touya, his grip gentle yet firm, pulled you to him by your chin, sealing the moment with a kiss on your lips. "You're a free woman from now on."

As he released you, you sat up, eyes glistening with a mixture of emotions. With a quiver in your voice, you asked him, "What does this mean?"

He met your gaze, sincerity in his eyes, and replied, "It means you're free, no longer bound as a thrall. You have your own choices now, including whether you want to stay in Skjaldvargr or not."

A chill coursed through your veins as Touya's words sank in — unfamiliar and unsettling, the concept of freedom felt surreal. Blinking in disbelief, you grappled with the weight of this unexpected liberation. It was as if a door to an uncertain future had swung wide open, leaving you standing at the threshold, torn between the familiarity of captivity and the uncharted territory of choice.

Despite the cold tendrils of fear that coiled within you, an overwhelming wave of gratitude and an odd sense of vulnerability washed over. You hesitated for a moment, then, as if propelled by the uncertainty of newfound freedom, you hugged yourself to Touya. Tears spilled into the crook of his neck, a mixture of relief, gratitude, and an acknowledgment of the tangled emotions within.

Amidst your tears, you confessed, "I want to stay. I don't really have anywhere to go, and, strangely, I've grown fond of Skjaldvargr." The admission carried the weight of your complicated journey, a fusion of sorrow, attachment, and an unexpected connection with the people and places you had come to know.

Touya nodded affirmatively. "Well then, you'll stay here. My chambers are now yours, and you are an outright member of the settlement and my woman," he declared.

Shivers of worry coursed through you as you voiced your concerns about how Touya's father and brothers might react to the unconventional decision of freeing a thrall and choosing to be with her. Your apprehension deepened as you acknowledged your own perceived lack of talents, admitting, "I'm just a mere woman, and I don't really have many skills… I can sing and play a harp, but…"

Touya, smiling softly, gently pulled you close and silenced your self-deprecating words with a kiss. As he broke the kiss, he whispered, "Don't worry about that. I'll make it work." His reassurance lingered in the air, a promise that he intended to navigate the challenges ahead and carve a path for the two of you, regardless of the judgments and expectations that might come from his family. Touya, holding you close, looked into your eyes with a tender gaze. "I see way past the talents and appearance," he admitted softly. "What captivated me was your unaware gentleness, the way you carry yourself, and the kindness that emanates from you. That's what truly matters to me."

"Thank you, Touya Endeavorson," you whispered, kissing his jawline.

He chuckled softly, the sound a soothing lullaby, and soon, the gentle rhythm of sleep claimed both of you.

The next day, as the sun hung very low on the horizon, the warriors gathered for the final meeting with the earl.

Dabi, reluctantly torn from your peaceful slumber, pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder before gently tucking you into thick furs. He left the chamber, heading to meet his father.

In the meeting room, Shoto was already present, exchanging a cold smile with his eldest brother. Hawks and the other warriors formed a solemn assembly, awaiting the earl's words.

Natsuo stood nearby, eager to hear what their father had to say and to bid farewell to his brothers.

Endeavor's stern voice echoed through the hall as he issued orders to his sons. "Shoto, Touya, you depart soon. Ensure everything is in order for the journey. You have no time to waste."

Shoto, attempting to be the epitome of politeness, spoke up. "Father, may I suggest we also check the provisions and inspect the gear to ensure nothing is overlooked for the journey?"

Endeavor's gaze shifted to Shoto, a brief nod acknowledging the suggestion. "Very well, Shoto. Attend to the provisions and gear. Dabi, focus on the horses and make sure they are in prime condition. You leave nothing to chance."

Dabi, ever the stoic one, simply nodded in acknowledgment, the weight of his father's expectations settling on his shoulders.

The preparations for the journey became a meticulous dance under Endeavor's watchful eye, each son fulfilling their assigned tasks with a sense of duty ingrained in them by years of training and discipline.

Dabi meticulously checked each horse, ensuring they were in optimal health and prepared for the upcoming journey.

As he worked, Natsuo approached him, a note of concern in his voice. "Be careful, Touya," Natsuo said, his eyes reflecting worry.

Dabi, giving his brother a brief nod, adjusted the long, thick, black fur draping over his shoulders. "I'll. And you, keep your eyes open and make sure everyone is safe and nothing bad happens, understood?"

Natsuo chuckled at the protective tone of his elder brother. "Understood, Touya. Just don't go doing anything reckless."

Dabi flashed a small smirk, a mixture of confidence and assurance. "Reckless? Me? Never." Despite the banter, a hint of camaraderie lingered in their exchange, a silent understanding between the brothers in the face of the impending challenges.

Natsuo ruffled Dabi's stallion's mane, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I hope father knows what he is doing, sending you to a land we've never been to before."

Dabi, continuing to attend to the horses, looked up at his brother. "Apparently, he does. The journey doesn't seem as tough as it sounds," he assured.

As Dabi continued with the preparations for the journey, he turned to Natsuo and asked, "Take good care of Y/N while we're away, will you?"

Natsuo, puzzled by the mention of a name of their thrall, furrowed his brows. "Y/N? Why?"

Dabi smirked and explained, "I freed her. She's my woman now."

Natsuo blinked, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing his face. He smirked smugly, poking his older brother's shoulder. "Well, well, has my brother fallen in love with a woman!?" The revelation caught him off guard, but Natsuo couldn't resist teasing his brother about his newfound connection.

Dabi, his usually stoic expression now tinged with a mix of vulnerability and anger, confirmed, "Yes, Natsuo. I fell in love with her. Any problem with that?"

Natsuo shook his head, a reassuring smile on his face. "No problem, Touya. I'll protect her. You don't have to worry about that. Focus on the trip, and I'll handle things here on your behalf."

A sense of gratitude flickered in Dabi's eyes as he nodded, appreciating the support and understanding from his younger brother.

Touya gracefully mounted his stallion, and Shoto did the same.

As they prepared to depart, Endeavor emerged from the Great Hall. "Bring back as much as you can, and scout around," he ordered, his gaze piercing.

Shoto, ever the dutiful son, assured his father sweetly, "Everything you said will be done, my lord."

They departed in unison, the rhythmic sound of hooves echoing through the settlement.

The horses moved one by one, a procession of warriors embarking on a mission of importance. As they rode, the figures of warriors and their leaders gradually vanished on the horizon, blending with the imposing mountains in the distance.

Dabi, throwing a final glance back at the settlement, silently offered a prayer to their gods for success on the mission. The vast expanse swallowed them, leaving behind the familiar and venturing into the unknown.

You awoke alone in Touya's bed, the furs enveloping you in a warm embrace. Stretching languidly, you shifted, and a blush tinged your cheeks as you became aware of the remnants of wetness and slick covering your inner thighs. With a mix of shyness and self-consciousness, you decided to freshen up.

After cleaning yourself and running a brush through your hair, you prepared for the day. As a free woman with newfound autonomy, uncertainty lingered in your choices. Unsure of what to do, you settled on paying a visit to Hilda.

On your way to your friend, you were unexpectedly intercepted by the earl himself. Endeavor, a commanding presence, stopped you in your tracks. "Come with me, Y/N," he requested, his tone leaving little room for refusal. "I wish to talk to you."

Curiosity and a hint of apprehension danced in your eyes as you followed the earl, the path veering away from your original destination, leaving you to wonder what discussions awaited in the halls of the settlement's leader.

Endeavor, seated on his imposing throne, gestured for you to take a seat on the smaller throne positioned on his left side. Hesitantly, you complied with his request.

Endeavor's stern expression softened slightly as he began to speak. "Touya informed me of what transpired," he stated, and a blush instantly covered your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty coursing through you.

The earl continued, his gaze unwavering. "He freed you. I do not condone such actions, especially considering your status. You are not of royal blood, but as long as you make my son happy, I am inclined to respect that."

You nodded, a mixture of relief and nervousness settling within you. "I assure you, earl Endeavor, my intentions are pure. I mean no harm."

Endeavor, though maintaining his stern demeanor, seemed to consider your words. "Very well," Endeavor declared after a moment. "In such circumstances, if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask the thralls, Hilda, or even me or Natsuo. If you prove your worth, maybe I'll look at you more kindly."

You promised not to be a bother but a valuable asset for the settlement. As the conversation progressed, you gathered the courage to pose a more personal question. "My lord, would you have anything against me fully embracing the worship of your gods?"

Endeavor's initial shock was evident, but after a moment, he smiled at you, nodding in acknowledgment. The acceptance of your desire to align with their religious practices hinted at a potential bridge between your newfound freedom and the intricate dynamics of the settlement. The unspoken understanding between you and the earl carried the potential for a more harmonious coexistence, provided you could prove your dedication and commitment to the settlement's values.

"You wish to step away from your Christian God and embrace our gods?" he asked.

In response, you nodded, meeting his gaze with determination. "Yes, earl Endeavor. I want to embrace the beliefs of this settlement, to become part of the community and honor the gods that are revered here. The day my village was raided, it felt as though my God had abandoned me," you expressed, the weight of that moment etched in the somber tone of your words.

The earl, after a moment of contemplation, surprised you with a geniune smile. He nodded, a gesture of acknowledgment. "Very well. If it brings you closer to this community and my son, then I will respect your choice. The gods, after all, have their own ways." Endeavor considered your newfound interest in embracing the local beliefs and, after a moment, spoke decisively, "I will take you to our seer. She will impart the knowledge you seek. Eventually, you may find yourself visiting Uppsala, a vital religious, economic, and political center in Svealand."

Your eyes lit up with interest at the prospect, and you nodded eagerly, fully intrigued by the idea of exploring such a significant place. Curiosity guiding your words, you asked, "Will I be able to go there once Touya returns?"

Endeavor, after a brief pause, agreed, "Yes, once Touya is back, we can arrange for your visit to Uppsala. It will be an enlightening experience for you."

You nodded at Endeavor, absorbing the significance of the upcoming journey into the settlement's beliefs and practices.

As you settled into the smaller throne, Endeavor looked up at you, a question lingering in his eyes. "Do you know where you're sitting?" he asked.

You replied hesitantly, "Obviously, it's a throne, my lord."

He chuckled, confirming your observation. "Indeed, it is a throne, but it holds a particular importance. This is reserved for the earl's wife, the queen of the settlement."

Your gaze shifted, and you asked cautiously, "Where is your wife then, my lord?"

Endeavor's expression softened, carrying a weight of sorrow. "She passed away after giving birth to Shoto, my youngest son."

You remained silent, acknowledging the gravity of the loss. "I'm so sorry for your family's loss," you expressed.

Endeavor waved his hand dismissively, as if to sweep away the weight of the past. "This is what the gods had prepared for her," he said, a touch of acceptance in his voice. "I miss her wisdom every day." He then looked at you, his gaze steady. "I let you sit here because, eventually, this place will belong to you."

You blinked, shocked by the unexpected revelation. "To me?" you asked, seeking more details. "I-I don't understand, my lord…"

Endeavor nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Yes." Endeavor leaned in, his voice lowered as he shared a revelation with you. "Since you are my eldest son's woman, it is likely that Touya will want to marry you one day." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in. "And I have already chosen Touya as my legitimate heir. Once I am gone, he will take over the throne."

You were shocked by the revelation, and you whispered in response, "But from what I observed, I was fully convinced you would want Shoto to inherit the throne, my lord…"

Endeavor sighed, a mixture of regret and remorse in his eyes. He began to share the mistakes of his past, confessing to an attempt on Touya's life when he was a child, influenced by the wrong people. The consequence was the multitude of scars that adorned Touya's body, a lasting mark from a hot, boiling tar. "After all these years," Endeavor continued, "and witnessing Touya's growth, even though it was much harder for him due to his past and vulnerabilities, I have come to the conclusion that there is no other candidate for the throne than my eldest son. Shoto is full of passion, yes, but he is also very unsorted, having too many ideas and never fully indulging in anything but quick, meaningless affairs." The earl's admission offered a glimpse into the complexities of his decisions, revealing the burdens of the past and the intricate dynamics within the royal family.

As the revelation unfolded, a mix of emotions churned within you. The realization that Touya would be as shocked as you, having believed all along that his father saw him merely as a warrior, added a layer of complexity to the unfolding dynamics within the royal family.

You turned to Endeavor, the weight of the situation settling in, and expressed, "Whatever you decide, I will condone, my lord."

Endeavor's response was a smile, a gesture that softened his stern features. His rough, huge hand reached out, gently caressing your blushed cheek. "I think I'm starting to understand what Touya sees in you," he admitted. "You remind me a lot of my wife. You're very kind, and you seem to carry a wisdom I might not comprehend." Endeavor's gaze held a mixture of seriousness and earnestness as he spoke, "I ask you to be good to Touya. He deserves the world I couldn't provide him with."

The horses moved steadily through the wilderness, Dabi and Shoto riding side by side. The rhythmic sound of hooves on the earth beneath echoed in the quiet expanse around them. Hawks and the other warriors trailed at a distance, granting the brothers a semblance of privacy.

Shoto, breaking the silence, turned to his older brother. "So, how is it to possess a thrall?" he inquired, a curious glint in his mismatched eyes.

Dabi, eyes fixed on the distant horizon, remained silent.

The younger brother, ever probing, continued with a wry tone, "Is she better than the whore you laid with before?"

Dabi's jaw clenched, and for a moment, he maintained his stoic composure. However, the barb proved to be too much, and he finally snapped back at Shoto, his tone sharp and cold, "Watch your tongue, Shoto. She's not just a possession, and you will treat her with respect." The intensity in his words mirrored the protective edge that had developed over the time he spent with you.

Shoto chuckled dismissively. "Why would I respect a thrall? She's nothing but our slave."

"I freed her," Touya retorted sharply, his voice carrying a harsh edge. "So she's not your slave anymore."

Shoto, not entirely convinced by his brother's words, chuckled again. However, when he caught the stern gaze from Touya, he groaned in frustration, relenting but not without adding a snarky, awfully bad comment under his breath. "Oh, brother, you've fallen so low that you bedded a thrall and freed her just because she was good in bed and made doe-eyes at you. Pathetic."

Touya, his patience wearing thin, warned Shoto sharply, "Don't say anything more about Y/N. I won't hesitate to hurt you, Shoto."

Shoto, unfazed and ever mocking, responded with a smirk, "Hurt me? Come on, Touya, you're just defending your little pet. I didn't know you could get so attached to a mere thrall."

Touya's jaw clenched, his restraint visibly tested by his younger brother's taunts.

Their exchange was abruptly interrupted by a loud howling in the distance, a haunting sound that echoed through the wilderness. The mournful cry carried an eerie resonance, adding an ominous atmosphere to the already tense scene between the brothers. As the sun began its descent down the horizon, casting long shadows and painting the sky with hues of orange and red, the howling persisted.

"Wolves," Touya said carefully, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "We should set up camp here. It's too risky to ride further."

Shoto, involuntarily agreeing with Touya, nodded in acknowledgment.

As the camp took shape, Touya decided to rest in his tent. Lying on the furs, he closed his eyes, allowing the sounds of nature and the quietness of the night to envelop him. The occasional chatter of their warriors echoed in the background. Touya's thoughts drifted to you, and as he drifted into sleep, he envisioned you through the canvas of his imagination.

heathen wolves: @queenkhepri @indignant-alpaca @misafiryanki @roast-toast @within-eyesight @crystalwolfblog @haseki-huricihan @violet-forgetmenot @dagger-dragger @smartspot

[ask-postcrash-curly]

[Slowly, but without warning, a succession of images begins to trickle into Curly’s mind. Vivid but distorted, as though someone were attempting to project a film from beneath a running stream. Faces are watercolor splotches void of detail. A song plays from a tinny radio somewhere, though looping in and out of sequence. If heard closely… “Free Bird”?

An elegant woman, platinum-haired, tall, and slender, sits with her back turned. She is surrounded by an endless sea of birds - blue jays, mockingbirds, pigeons, hummingbirds, swans, robins, shrikes, kestrels, starlings… and a single large raven perched on her arm. She swoons, and suddenly every bird erupts into flight like an explosion of feathers. The woman is left lying still, illuminated by moonlight. Faint wingbeats in the distance. She sinks through an invisible floor and falls into a sea of stars below.

A stage light cuts through the dark. Standing beneath it, another woman - young, with a short mess of brunette hair, wearing a rusty skirted leotard. A flock of small songbirds fly about her as she dances with a growing intensity and urgency. She breaks into an astonishingly fast and long series of pirouettes before stopping, tiptoeing backwards, and swooning off of the invisible stage floor. Below, a man with dark hair catches her in his arms. She looks at him endearingly before they share a kiss. When she looks back again, though, he is not the same man - she panics and thrashes in his grasp. Tries to scream, but finds no voice within her throat. A flock of mockingbirds enshrouds the couple.

“And this bird you cannot change…”

A tall and broad man, curly and blonde, sits in a pilot’s chair encircled by glowing screens. He reaches for the control panel, but another pair of hands grasps his own, stopping him. That of a young blonde woman sitting in the co-pilot’s seat beside him. She caresses his arm, stands behind, guides his wrists - and slams his fist through a glass case and into a large button. Blue jays fly in every direction as everything goes red and alarms blare and scream. The man runs from the woman, from the cockpit, only to find himself running back into it. The alarms are overlaid by the wails of a crying infant. The control panel is melted, frozen, gashed apart by an axe. Helplessly the man huddles to the floor, head in his hands, as the locked door behind begins pounding violently. The window explodes, and a flock of shrikes pours in from the other side.

“Lord knows I can’t change!”

Back to the pair of brunettes. The young woman, lying in a bathtub pooling with blood. The man, kneeling over her with a large, dirty knife in hand. He grabs her by the jaw and forces a fistful of smashed red velvet cake into her mouth. Blood flows freely like a running tap, the drain clogged by the same cake. Then - a dark-eyed pigeon dives into the man’s head, scratching and pecking at his face incessantly. He takes a few swipes with the knife, stumbles, and then falls backwards into the sea of stars.

The blondes, now. The man lies paralyzed on the floor, while the young woman straddles his waist and whispers drops of venom into his ear. Tears stream from his eyes. She picks up a bird in her hands - a juvenile kestrel - and seems to enjoy its panic as she torments it. Nearly tries to pull its wings apart, until a gray dove swoops down and frantically beats its wings upon her, forcing her to drop the fledgling. The dove chases the woman off of the man and out of the cockpit. The alarms cease, but the infant’s cries do not.

“Lord, help me! I can’t change!”

High in the air, a mockingbird and a shrike fly wildly at one another, swooping and diving and shrieking and chasing one another in and out of view. The squabble suddenly ceases; they split off into opposite directions.

“Lord, I can’t change!”

The shrike now flies to the young brunette woman as she slips out of the sordid bathtub, her limbs tightly wrapped in stained bandages. The mockingbird finds the blonde man in the cockpit as he drags himself towards the injured kestrel. Both birds twitter and call as they dive; the man and the woman startle before breaking into a run.

“Won’t you fly high, free bird, yeah?!”

They run, and run, and run, until coming to an abrupt halt at opposite ends of one another. Before either of them, ladders jut out horizontally like diving platforms; far below, the sea of stars swirls and churns in an endless abyss. The birds pursuing them swoop down over their heads before arcing back up, returning to their spat in the center.

Wind barrages the pair. Nowhere left to run. The woman takes a balancing step forward, toe to rung, and another, and another. The man hunches, braces himself, and takes several tentative, full-footed steps. A violent gust blows and nearly sends each of them tumbling over the edge. The woman’s ballet skirt is ripped from her leotard, the bandages around her body coming unraveled. The kestrel flies out of the man’s grasp, and the red-and-yellow patch is shorn from his jumpsuit and blown away.

Ladders’ edge. They lock fear-filled eyes from across the abyss. Two faces unblur and fill in with detail. Blue eyes. Grant Curly, before the crash. Brown eyes. Robin Warbler, before motherhood. The vortex continues to spin.

A car swerves. Glass shatters. The shrike breaks from the mockingbird and falls into the sea of stars. Crackling ice begins to crawl up the ladder beneath Robin’s feet. She tries to take another step and the frozen rung snaps under her. She stumbles; Curly instinctively reaches out to her. She looks up at him; though her eyes are full of fear and uncertainty, her face hardens with determination.

“You don’t know what real love is. You just aren’t capable of it. Probably never will be, not really. But that’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

Robin turns and executes a reverse swan dive over the edge and into the vortex.

A piercing gunshot follows; the mockingbird is the next to fall. Curly staring down. Feet in cement; not for long. A deafening sound in his ears, impossibly bright lights behind his eyes. A brutal force throws him off of the ladder. Something catches his arm; another hand. He looks up from where he dangles over the edge. Burning heat and terror in his face.

“You know what they say. Pain is how we know we’re still living. You’ll thank me later.”

Time stops. Frozen. Past above. Future below. Hazel eyes. Blue eyes. A ladybug lands on Curly’s sleeve.

“Bye, Jimmy.”

He lets go.

The song fades.

Space. Void. Numbness. Cold.

Free falling. Gravity as a matter of perspective. UP or DOWN?

She sees him now, and desperately reaches out to him. Grabs him by the arms, and he by hers. Tears cascade into the air above like tiny shimmering stars. Despite it, she can’t help but grin at him.

Suspended in flight into uncertainty. Together. Birds with clipped wings.

The void surrounding them begins to alight with stars. Patterns become constellations. A caterpillar. An owl. A sunflower. A possum. A palette. A plush bear. A snowflake. A parrot. A dog. Far too many to behold, pulsing into life, singing, glowing from impossible distances and times.

The elegant woman is suddenly beside them, falling in a perfect swan dive. In her arms she holds the shrike and the mockingbird. Both calm. She falls faster. Hundreds of starlings fly behind her in a trail like a shining cape, the large raven coming up at the very end. She dives below before circling back up, and up into moonlight beaming down from high overhead.

No longer falling. Floating. The moonlight and constellations slowly fade. Robin places her feet down to find the void solid beneath. Curly tries to do the same, but stumbles, falls; she catches him, and helps him sit into a wheelchair.

When he looks up at her, she is no longer a youthful ballerina. Older and wiser, a mother, the beautifully strange woman she is now. The kestrel flies down and perches on her shoulder, preens at her hair.

When she looks over at him, his body has changed. Shorter hair, skin scarred and textured, limbs smoothed out at uneven lengths. But still the same blue iris, the same tired and open gaze. A pigeon settles on one handle of the wheelchair while a hummingbird flies around his head. A swan walks up and pecks at his clothes.

Despite everything…

Curly and Robin turn to face mirrored versions of themselves. He, much the same; though stronger, standing on his own with prosthetics and comfortable crutches. Robin, still herself; though much older and worn, her fading gray hair pulled into a bun. No birds around them. She leans on his shoulder.

The last flickers of her dream linger for a long time, before fading into the comforting sounds of birdsong. One last image accompanies it. A ruffled blue jay pokes its head out from the hole of a simply-painted birdhouse. It glances up as a robin flies onto the roof, happily trilling away. The blue jay disappears back into the house, and the robin follows.]

What am I looking at...? Hello?

Oh. Wow. Hello...? Yeah no I don't think she can hear me. Damn, that's a lot of birds. What is this? Some kind of movie? Bye, birds... Bye mysterious woman too, I guess. What's the plot supposed to be here?

And... now we're on a stage. Interesting editing here. I like it. ...Wow. That... wow. I'll never understand how dancers do it. Okay, so this is a romance...? HAHAH WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT—

That really looked like—

Okay nope couldn't be or I would've—

Is... is that meant to be me...? Can't make out his face, but... Huh, who's that? Oh fucking hell is this going be a crash?! No no no no. shit, not the alarms please i can't— oh fuck i can't breathe it's just a film just a fucking film that looks like me—

oh god what did he do to her why does he look like him—?? is— is that supposed to be anya, maybe—? what is this, i don't like this, what is he doing to her?!? i don't, i don't want to see this please

no. nononononono i don't i don't want to see this! that's a pony express jumpsuit oh fuck is it supposed to be me? i don't . what is she doing to the bird why would she?! ...okay. okay. the— the alarms are over, that woman's gone, it's fine, i'm fine, it isn't real...

okay... okay, back to the grey birds...?

bandages!! bloody bandages!! what is this supposed to be, i don't want—

what is this music for?!

this... looks like my dream...? i... i don't... please...

they're going to jump, aren't they? i hate this... so much...

his eyes are blue. they look like my eyes.

i... know you...

what's happening, what is this, why are you making me—?! she's going to fall do something—

who— i've heard of this before. i...

mum?

shit no no no—! no no no she's gone please what is this why—?!

gah no no make it stop—

stop. stop it nononono don't TOUCH ME—

...

it stopped... i don't... what is this? please... why is it so peaceful now? mum, please, can you hear me, is that you?

Those... are starlings... I remember, they showed me...

Oh God, I'm—

Pigeon, swan, hummingbird... That's... that's what you said they'd be, wasn't it...?

A robin, a... bluejay? They're... Oh.

...

I think... it's stopped. What... was that?

Uh. Mum? That was you, wasn't it? Somehow. Was that a nightmare, or... Can you hear me?

[sarnai4]

I wonder what Ares thought of Zelus (Envy) doing this? "

Now Envy, surveying the bed of lofty Zeus and Semele's labour in the divine birth, was jealous of Bacchos while yet in the womb, Envy self-tormenting, loveless, stung with his own poison. In that crafty heart he conceived a crooked plan. He put on the false image of a counterfeit Ares, with armour like his; he scored the front of the shield with a liquid of his own made from a poisonous flower, to imitate smears of blood. He dipt his deceitful fingers in vermilion dye, staining his hands with red stuff which pretended to be gore (which it resembled) from his slain enemies. He belched out from his throat through his horrible mouth a nine-thousand power roar, a man-breaking voice indeed! He provoked Athena with seductive whispers, and goaded jealous Hera yet more to wrath, and irritated them both; and these are the words he said:

Event Date: -1000 GR

§ 8.50  "Find another bridegroom in the sky, Hera, yes another! for Semele has stolen yours! For her sake he renounces the sevenzoned sky and treads the bridal floor of sevengated Thebes! In your place he holds in his arms an earthly bride with child, and is happy! What has become of my mother's jealousy! Has even Hera's wrath become unmanned for this marriage with Semele? Where are the stings of your merciless gadfly? No heifer is now driven in seapanic over the deep – no herdsman Argus with a thick crop of eyes watches the latest bed of lecher Cronides?

Event Date: -1000 GR

§ 8.61  "But what is this palace of Olympos to me? I will go down to earth, I will leave my father's heaven and live in my own Thrace, I will no longer look on at my unhappy mother's wrongs and Zeus the wife-spoiler! If he ever comes to my country because he wants a Bistonian girl, he shall know what Ares is like when he is angry. I will take my Titan-destroying deathdealing spear and chase womanmad Cronion out of Thrace! I will use the excuse that he drags this maiden to his bed, I will be avenger self-appointed of the bed where I was born, because he has frequented earthborn brides and filled the bespangled heavens with his loves!

Event Date: -1000 GR

§ 8.73  "Goodbye Heaven – where mortals are at home! Shall I climb the pole? But Callisto circles about Olympos, and there shines the ring named after the highcrested Arcadian Bear. I hate the seven Pleiads in their courses – for in Olympos it irks me that Electra shows her light with Selene. Now why are you quiet? You persecuted Apollo in the womb of his mother Leto, and you leave Dionysos in peace? Hephaistos, you helped in the painful birth of Tritogeneia, and Zeus shall be his own midwife for the bastard son of a drab, more mighty still than Athena, and he shall produce him from his manly thigh – no need now for the pole-axe! Give place, Athena! Cease to cry up that rounded forehead as your birthbed! Dionysos puts into the shade the clever delivery of that teeming head! Sprung form a mortal stock, he shall be an Olympian like Athena, but self-delivered, and eclipsing the boast of Pallas the motherless.

Event Date: -1000 GR

§ 8.88  "But I am ashamed myself far more, when some mortal man shall say: Zeus granted battles to Ares, and merry-hearted cheer to Dionysos.' Well, I will leave the sky to the bastard brats of Cronides, and quit the heavens a banished god. Let Istros with his frozen flood receive its homeless monarch, before I see Ganymedes come here to pour the wine, that long-haired cowdrover, first in Pergamos then domiciled in Olympos, usurping the untouched cup of heavenly Hebe; before I can see Semele and Bacchos denizens of Olympos, and Ariadne's crown translated to the stars to run its course with Helios, to travel with misty Dawn. There I will stay, that I may never behold the sea-monster, the sickle of Perseus, the figure of Andromeda, the glare of Gorgon Medusa, whom Cronides will establish in Olympos by and by."

Event Date: -1000 GR

§ 8.103   He spoke, and disquieted the mind of selfborn Athena, and the more increased the wrath of jealous Hera. Swift leapt up envy, and wagging his crooked knees passed on his sidelong roads through the lower air: he moved like smoke to human eyes and thoughts, arming his boggart's mind for deceit and mischief."

...This seemed so uncalled for that it's sort of hilarious. Seriously, why is Zelus picking on our boy? What did Ares do? (This is why Zelus is getting a morally gray portrayal in the War Siblings 2027 story) I'm stuck imagining a group text later.

Athena: Were you drunk last night?

Dionysus: Yep.

Athena: Not you. Ares.

Ares: What are you talking about? I was with Dite and the kids.

Athena: That's not what we heard.

Hermes: You went sorta crazy. It was hilarious.

Ares: ???

Athena: You started talking about how Hera couldn't keep Dad to herself and that you'd chase him out of Thrace if he ever tried to have a consort from there.

Artemis: I mean, it was pretty gross that he slept with Semele. That's his great-granddaughter. Ew.

Hephaestus: As if that's ever going to stop him.

Apollo: Ares, I'd suggest you get some bandages just to prepare for what's to come.

Hermes: Oh yeah. You are DEAD. I'm gonna dress in your cloak when you're gone.

Athena: It wouldn't fit you.

Hermes: It would if you tailored it. Pleeeease.

Ares: (texting, then stops)

Athena: Ares?

Ares: Mom & Dad are here. I gotta go.

Athena: Nice knowing you.

[anamelessfool]

May I please have a grumpy wee baby Copia sketch? 🥺 (you had to know this was coming—it’s your own fault ♡)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @ghuleh-recs/@ghuleh-draws /StuffIkindalike

Thank you for supporting me and my grumpy three-year old Copia:

You're an amazing person, an incredible member of the community and a wonderful artist in your own right. You also got me making animation keyframes after 15 years of avoiding them hehe

Copia had joined him this morning in the garden. It was the coldest morning yet, and the little boy was bundled up in a hand-me-down jacket that was too large for him. His arms stuck out as they rested over the navy-blue puff of his body. His mousey little eyes stared out from under a pink knitted hat borrowed from a crafty Sister. He marched quietly around the bare garden beds, his movement slowed from the bulk of his garments like a diver on the sea floor. Primo chuckled as he tossed another log on the block. The next log split as beautifully as the previous ones. Copia wandered by and bent over the piece that had fallen into the frozen grass. “That may be too heavy— take it easy, Copia.” But the little boy did not relent, making a big show of carrying the piece of wood with his arms wrapped around it for dear life. He staggered over to the woodpile and dropped it on the ground a foot away. “Nice work!” Primo laughed, then swung the axe into the block, trapping the blade for next time. He bent down on one knee, his arms outstretched. “Come here, you!”

If you see this post, please go thank Ghuleh-Recs because without her support I would not be making art as much as I do.

[the-kr8tor]

"Whoever can string my husband's old bow and shoot through 12 axes cleanly..." Daily Hobie HC! The challenge (more epic the musical) Hobie had faced through countless monsters, gods, the death of his crew and the blood on his hands. And yet, as he tread on the lands of Ithaca to his palace, where you were, he had one more enemy. Suitors. Hobie managed to grab a cloak and disguise himself among the suitors, each sight of one pissing him off. He desperately wanted to throw off his cloak and kill them all, but his hatred for them could never compare to the love he had for you. He longed to see you once more, staying low in the crowd of lustful and eager suitors. He wanted to hold you, to feel the warmth of your body against his once more, to know whether you would fall in love with him again. You had procrastinated long, keeping the suitors waiting like a dog chained to a pole, eager for the juicy meat just a few inches too far away. You couldn't let your heart move on, seeing the odd storm occurring a few days earlier. You hoped this was a sign for change, that Hobie was back, but you could only hold the mob back for so long. You held a bow and string. Hobie's string and bow. The challenge was difficult, you had high hopes none of these weak men could string his bow like he does. Stringing a bow, and shoot through the 12 axes cleanly to hit the target, was something you had only seen Hobie do so effortlessly. You could feel your heart begin to ache for him once more, walking down the hall with the suitors watching hungrily. You announced the trial, eyes narrowing in disgust at how the other men only saw you as a prize to be one for the throne. Watching the arrows fly, you stood tall amidst the flurry of arrows curving and failing to fly through cleanly. However, one man stood up, concealed with a cloak. Hobie had to suppress a chuckle, his heart beating through his chest as he stepped up, picking up the bow. With precise fingers, he began to string the bow. His old bow, one he hadn't seen for years. The thread was strongly attached, ready to be pulled back. Hobie braced an arrow, seeing the tears well up in your eyes as you recognized him through his disguise. Almost effortlessly, the arrow flew through the 12 axes, landing square on the target. The other suitors looked flabbergasted at this mysterious figure manage to complete such a feat, while as yours and Hobie's eyes met, you couldn't help but tear up. You were frozen on the spot, letting him approach you slowly. Hobie missed you dearly, and you clearly missed him so much more. The warmth of his palm was comforting against your cheek as he cupped your face lovingly, a smile gracing his lips and tired eyes as you lean into his touch. -🐦‍⬛

Ngl I thought that this was a robin hood au!

Daily Hobie HC ‼️‼️‼️

Yeeess!!! I love this au!

Hobie's like "what's worse than fighting gods and sea monsters? Men who are after my wife." If he had a gun he'd be loading it 😂

Just the thought of those men touching you has his blood boiling! 😤

The challenge was so smart when I first read it in the myth

He showed them!! They had nothing on Hobie!

Lmaoo the scene from brave suddenly started playing in my head "I'll shoot for me own hand!"

They're together again 😭😭😭

[wheredoesthethirdswordgo]

FIC FIC FIC

🫴have this offering while i finish up some stuff so i can make new, more substantial fics. just a short zolu fic, about luffy's gear five transformation, from zoro's pov

content: angsty? not really though, temporary character death (gear five!luffy), zolu, zoro pov, luffy's gear five transformation during the fight with kaido, poor zoro man got the biggest scare of his life word count: 884

hope you guys enjoy!

Apricity - zolu

[definition] Apricity: The warmth of the sun in the winter

Chaos. The battlefield around them went still for what felt like a brief eternity as Kaido landed a final, lethal blow. A small figure (and god, he was so small next to that towering dragon) plummeted from the sky, still billowing steam in wreaths.

A dead weight, as though he was an anchor with its rope cut, sinking to the sea floor.

Zoro could hear someone, Nami, probably, screaming “LUFFY!”, but it was muffled and distant through his ringing ears, as though he had been plunged into the deep, crushing water, cold beneath the cruel waves.

His vision had completely narrowed down, tunnel vision reducing his sight to hyperfocus on the unconscious form as it plunged to its resting place.

Badum. Badum. Badum. Bad-.... Silence.

Zoro’s chest contracted, as he felt something snap with a sharp twang, sending a pang of blisteringly cold pain through him.

His eyes widened. Lurching forward, his feet tried to carry him to his captain. Catch him. Save him. Protect him. His knees buckled. Zoro landed heavily on his knees, arms hanging limp and useless at his sides.

He dully recognised the feeling of his swords, Sandai Kitetsu, and Enma slipping out of his shocked-lax hands, Wado Ichimonji falling from his slack jaw. Zoro didn’t hear the clink of metal on stone as they fell. He didn’t hear the cries of shock, sorrow, fear, and triumph sounding from all around him. He didn’t hear Nami’s silent, shaking sobs. He didn’t hear the cook’s gasp and disbelieving curse. He didn’t hear Robin’s quiet “Sencho!” He didn’t hear Ussop’s uncharacteristic quietness. He didn't notice anything. Nothing but the impact of Luffy’s body as it hit the ground. The crater it formed. The massive cloud of dust that rose from the force of his fall.

Zoro was so, so cold.

He felt frozen to the core, as though his very heart had stopped its perpetual chore, frozen solid by the sudden cold. Zoro felt as though he would never warm again. His Sun had been extinguished.

Zoro couldn't hear anything. His captain’s heart was still. The steady drumbeat of that rubbery muscle pumping freedom and laughter through Luffy’s body was conspicuously missing.

Silenced forever.

And in its wake, it left a vacuum, a gaping maw of silence that sucked every other sound into it. Without that ever-present pacer, Zoro was lost. How could he move? What was he to match his footfall to? How could he time the swing of his swords?

His body, it seemed, was not as useless as his heart or mind, and it reclaimed its grip on his swords, Wado clenched between locked jaws, as his arms swung up with Haki hardened blades to meet the heavy head of an axe with a resounding clang.

Like a flood, sound filled Zoro’s ears, his vision widening once again to encompass the barren rock plane they fought on. It was overwhelming. Even as his senses filled, his mind remained empty, incapable of comprehending the undeniable fact of Luffy’s death.

Thankfully, his muscle memory forced his body to fend off blow after blow, defeating enemies as they surged on the remaining Strawhats. It seemed they were spurned by the fall of the largest threat, Strawhat Luffy, and decided to take advantage of the horrified state of the crew.

Too bad. Zoro wasn’t losing anyone else to this fight. He would never be able to join his captain knowing he had left the others defenceless. His own fall would have to wait.

As Zoro mindlessly cut down the last enemy in his path, numb and detached, his ears twitched. He picked up a faint sound. Quiet, but quickly gaining a soaring volume. It was achingly familiar, yet foreign and wrong.

He dared not hope.

Bum. Bum. Bum. Bum. Bum.

The battlefield seemed to go still around Zoro, as though it was all narrowed down to that one pinprick of sound.

Looking around, the battle raged on, yet everything was muted, as though the drum beat had overtaken his ears, leaving them only able to hear that steady pound.

He recognised that steady thrum.

And how could he not, when Zoro’s own heart was beating to its tune?

To the pace of a beloved rubber one. One stretched to full capacity to encompass all. One that soared high in the sky as they sailed toward the horizon. One belonging to his Captain.

Zoro’s eyes opened (when had he closed them?) as he heaved out a disbelieving, yet relieved nonetheless, sigh. His ears filled with the booming sound of drums and the laugh of a god. A white streak flew across the inky sky, stilling, suspended like a portrait framed by the moon. A figure who glowed like the sun with divine power. Heavenly.

Luffy.

His frozen body warmed as his heart seemed to resume its duty, thawed by the Sun like ice-coated pine needles. He felt as though he had never been warm before this moment. As though he was only now stepping into the comfort of the Sun. Though Luffy had always been the Sun to Zoro, who had contented himself with being the worshipping Moon.

Zoro scoffed, flexing his hands around the hilts of his swords as he regained his body, still shaken, but now unworried.

Kaido never stood a chance.

word count: 884

[nostalgiaclown]

Lost Boy

Robert Laidir - He/They - 28 - Lords Of Fortune - Slayer Lost - Immature - Disruptive - Avoidant - Emotional - Joker

t/w: Abuse, Panic Attacks, Lack of Self Worth, Daddy Issues (I'm so sorry Rob)

×××

“ROBERT!! NOW!!”

The loud booming voice of your farther rings out across the field, breaking through the ringing in your ears, sweat covers your body, your hair sticks uncomfortably to your face, armour you quite fancied yourself in this morning now feels like a dead weight constricting you, weighing you down, adding to the pressure you’re already feeling after you hear the call of your name, and command to act.

Action.

“ROBERT! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR BOY??!”

Take Acton.

The ground beneath your feet trembles, another deafening roar sounds, that shakes you to the core.

“NOW!!”

Now.

Move.

MOVE.

The weight of your greatsword is too much for you to bare, your hands ache as you grip the hilt tighter, and you are NOT ready for this.

“USELESS FUCKING CHILD!! DIMITRIOS!”

“SIR!”

You stand, frozen, starring into the eyes of the wyvern as it charges towards you. Then, a sickening crunch, as Dimitris’s axe swings down against the wyvern’s skull, blood sprays, and the wyverns head lands with a great thump inches in front of you.

You stand there, chest still heaving, still looking into the now lifeless eyes of the wyvern, you manage a stolen glance to Dimitris, only to see him throw you a sneer as he pulls his axe from the beast.

Fuck.

Fuck…shit- fuck, fuck fuck-

“ROBERT! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”

Your heart clenches as your farther painfully grips your arm, pushing you back forcefully, you bite the inside of your mouth so hard you taste fresh blood, you cannot show how much his thumb digging into the gash on your arm hurts, or you know the pain you’ll endure later will be worse than this.

“LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM SPEAKING TO YOU BOY THAT IS AN ORDER.”

You close your eyes, steel your resolve, or try to. You can feel your grip loosen, and your hands start to shake from the fear and adrenaline running through you. You turn to face the man, no- monster, then open your eyes.

Shit.

He’s fucking furious.

You watch the older man as he closes his eyes, exhaling slowly, before opening them again and speaking with a slow, forcibly calm tone.

“I’ll ask again. What was that, Robert?” His thumb again digs into the gash on your arm. You manage to keep your face stoic, but your jaw clenches, and you lose your grip on your weapon. You hear Dimitris scoff off to the side somewhere. Arsehole.

You need to answer, but what do you say? Nothing you say will matter.

“Captain- I- I’m- shit- I froze, ok? You- you didn’t tell me-“

“Enough. Don’t stutter, boy. Are you trying to piss me off? Huh? Making me look a fool in front of the other officers? Do you get a kick out of playing the useless fool?”

If it fucks with you mate, yes. Cunt didn’t tell me we were going to fight a massive fuck off wyvern today.

“No Sir.”

That earns you a punch to the face. Your vision blanks for a second, but you manage to stay on your feet. Just about.

“THEN STOP FUCKING ACTING LIKE ONE! Worthless idiot. We’ll have words later.”

You hear him walk away, your vision darkens again, and you let out a bitter laugh. Hopefully, this time, you don’t wake up. No words from him are worth shit. You’ll never hear the words you need from him. You’ve accepted that much.

You promptly pass out, the last thing you can make out is your farther spewing more degrading words.

You bolt upright, drenched in sweat. That fucking nightmare again…

“Ugh…fuck’s sake man…” You untangle yourself from your wet blankets, kicking them away. The sound of the sea hitting the hold grounds you. it's fine. He’s not here. You’re away from all that now. Free.

“Hey Rob, shut it will ya? Some of us are trying to sleep yeah, quit yer whimpering and shit, we don’t wanna hear all that-“

“Yeah yeah- sorry, mate.” You get yourself up and pad your way over to the stairs. You need some air.

“An don’t fuckin come back down those stairs stomping like a drunk wyvern- we gotta be up early member- that Rivaini noble tosser wants that artefact, so we need you in top shape, yahear?”

“Yeah yeah I hear ya, still don’t like the guy. I’ll be quiet as a nug… quieter than your snoring anyway.” You bark out a laugh as you dodge the boot that was thrown at you and quickly ascend the stairs.

The night air is cold, the sea breeze whips around you, and the ocean spray kisses your skin. You breathe in. Out.

Looking out across the dark expanse of the sea, your grip on the mast tightens. You are free now. But, what do you do with that freedom? Seek out adventure, of course. Gold and Glory and all that too, you suppose.

Anything to feel something.

Something more.

Something to be prideful in.

[soracities]

Ilya kaminsky: "we sleep in a language until it comes to wake us with its strangeness", Kafka commended books that are like an axe for the frozen sea, Roland barthes was bored of deliberately composed or arranged photographs and sought the "punctum" (prick), the accidental or incidental element that throws you off in a photo... Tbc

Ctd... Francis bacon particularly loved a self portrait of Rembrandt's where his eyes look like bottomless holes and said that "non rational marks <in a painting> convey the mystery of the fact", the entire concept of "ostranenie" - is this what art is about?

i think if you can say anything of what art is "about", it maybe lies in the fact that the more you try to pin down its "aboutness" the further it recedes (like love, like God). when i did art in school the earliest lesson we were given was to draw something by focusing not on itself, but the negative space i.e. the area around the object that isn't the object. we drew the model for each class by drawing what the model wasn't: it wasn't so much about avoiding what i knew, but what i think i knew.

kafka, barthes, ostranenie...perhaps all form a facet of what art involves and leaves us with: it is an interruption (like beauty); its intrusion throws everything around it into new relief—do we know more or less than we did before? sometimes it is one, sometimes the other. regardless, we now know it differently. a sort of chink in the veil, if you will. an invitation, perhaps.

[worlddevoid]

World Devoid: Episode 1.2 - This Is (Not) Your Morning

(Word Count: 1.4k)

...

"WHAT THE FRICK, CASSIE, I COULD HAVE KILLED US!" Baz yells, gripping the steering wheel with bone white knuckles as smoke pours in through the open window. He takes a moment to catch his breath-- taking a few large, dramatic gasps before looking back at Cassie-- bewildered.

"NEVERMIND THAT! What about all these empty cars?" Cassie replies, not even waiting for a response before reaching for the door handle and opening it, stepping down over the high ledge of the RV to the solid ground. She takes off towards the cars without a moments notice.

"WHAT ARE YOU---jeezuz Christopher Christ on a cracker!" Baz exclaims as he scrambles for his own door handle and stumbles out after Cassie. He takes one step towards the line of empty cars before thinking better and leaning back into the RV and across the driver's seat. He stretches his arm into the space behind his seat and grabs the (quite frankly) very tiny, handheld axe they had used to chop firewood. He then scurries into formation behind Cassie, pathetically holding up the can-opener-sized 'weapon' at nothing in particular. "What the FRICK is going on?" He chokes out, trying to keep his composure and failing.

It is eerily silent and still as they approach the sea of vehicles. Not even the wind is blowing. A deep dread washes over Cassie and she sucks in a sharp breath, stopping in her tracks. Something is wrong, but she's not quite sure what exactly that is yet. She steps tentatively towards the nearest car, reaching out slowly for the open door and leaning in as she gets closer. Crouching down, she wiggles her front half into the back seat and starts scanning the area for clues.

"HELLLLOOOOO!" Baz yells from behind her, frustrated at being ignored. He advances to where Cassie has worked her way into the back seat of a sedan, and squints at the cars surrounding them. He takes a moment to scrutinize each one, only to discover that each and every one, within eye sight, appears to be empty. Not only that, but the cars stretch on for miles. Hundreds - no, thousands- of cars leading to the community college, left abandoned. Their owners- nowhere to be found.

He kicks the back wheel well of the car Cassie is investigating and repeats himself. "Helllooooo. What the FRICK is going on???"

"As if I know! That's why I'm looking for clues! Now either help or get out of the way, dummy!" Cassie states bluntly, continuing her search for any sign of what happened here and where the owners of these vehicles have gone off to. Baz winces, but quickly shrugs his shoulders and decides to join the hunt.

Having found nothing in the backseat, Cassie moves her search to the front. Leaning over the middle console, she finds a Nokia 3310 sitting in the passenger seat. Excitedly, she reaches for it, only for the phone to... move- only a tiny amount, enough to make her question whether or not she had imagined it.

Baz, who had been watching Cassie, notices as her focus shifts from the backseat to the front. His eyes land on a small blue phone just as she reaches for it. When it moves- or at least he could have sworn it moved- he quickly looks to Cassie, only to see shock scribbled across her features. She had clearly seen it too. He wrenches open the front car door 'weird that it's just sitting here unlocked' and dives for the phone-- only for it to wiggle just a little bit forward out of his grasp. His hand remains frozen in shock where the phone had been sitting only moments prior. "Uhh...Cassie...." He manages to utter in disbelief, cartoonishly rubbing his eyes as if to reset the image they'd just seen.

To their collective horror, from beneath the phone, eight spindly legs creep over the edge, scraping the corners of the buttons as a disturbing creature emerges. It peels itself off of the plastic and scuttles away from the Nokia, giving them a better look at it.

The creature is no larger than the palm of a hand, spider-like in more ways than one. Its eight long legs, the same shaped abdomen, its dark, obsidian color- everything yells that this is some kind of spider. Except for the eyes. There are precisely six of them, each a different size and shape. Some look eerily humanoid. Even more unsettling, they seem to blink independently of each other.

Cassie immediately recoils and screams in terror.

As her figure flies backwards away from the front seat in quick fashion, Baz leans curiously towards the creature that gave her a big fright. A beautiful spider- unlike any he's ever seen before- blinks in multitude back at him. He wracks his brain to help identify the enigma before him, but his mind comes up blank. He's never seen or heard of an arachnid that matches the description of the one in front of his own eyes and he squeals in glee at the revelation.

"I've never seen a specimen quite as magnificent as this one. The body and legs indicate it could belong in the Badumna insignis family, but the eyes are unlike anything that should belong to that family- or any species of spider really!" He bends forward excitedly. 'THIS IS SO COOL! IF I'M THE FIRST ONE TO DISCOVER THIS LITTLE GUY THEN I GET TO NAME IT AND BE--' "If this is the first of it's kind we need to carefully capture it for study! I will set a trap and lure the little----"

Before he can finish his sentence, the eight-legged creature bends it's legs with lightning speed and launches itself off of the seat and directly toward his face. He swings wildly with the small axe in a panic and feels only the slightest connection with mass--but it's just enough to knock it off course and it lands on the ground just to his left. He whips around to see it poised to pounce just behind him.

Cassie scrambles out of the back seat and books it away from the car. "Baz! Kill it already!" She shouts from a safe distance, leaving them to take care of this. She doesn't do bugs. Unfortunately for her, the spider takes notice of the motion and set its sights on her instead, turning and scuttling in her direction at an ungodly speed for such a tiny thing.

"Get awaaaayyyyy!" She screeches, sprinting away as fast and as far as her legs will let her.

Baz is stood frozen- torn between saving his friend and attacking a potentially new species, or standing still just to see what would happen if it got to Cassie... His better judgement ultimately wins against his bug-crazy brain and he lunges into action, taking one long stride with his string bean legs and swinging his right arm in synchronized action. He slams down HARD on the spider mid-scuttle. A sickening crunch is heard and he cringes, just a little, as orange guts arch through the air and spray against the pavement, some of it splashing on the toes of their shoes.

"Ewwww!" Cassie cries as she stamps her feet and shakes vigorously in an attempt to get the orange slime off her clear plastic heels. It got on her bare feet as well- some of it sticking between her toes.

"Awe, Frick." Baz say dejectedly, crouching down at the massacre beneath him. He moves to languidly touch one of its many legs, lamenting its passing.

Just as their hand is about to make contact with the fuzzy stick of a leg, it twitches and Baz flinches back in surprise.

Suddenly, the massacred pieces of spider carcass begin to vibrate. He stands quickly and takes a step back, watching the pile of flesh squirm with bewilderment.

"Oh God," Cassie whines, tears starting to prick the corners of her eyes. "This is so disgusting."

She is so distracted with the spider guts all over her designer shoes that she doesn't notice the creature in question begin to twitch on the ground. Unbeknownst to her, the spider is beginning to reform its body, the flesh pulling together as if attracted by a magnet.

Baz tunes out Cassie's cries of displeasure and watches- in a mixture of horror and fascination- as the smashed, mangled pieces of the spider's carcass begin to reconstruct themselves into one again. Each broken piece mends before his eyes and the legs begin to kick and twitch as it's stitched back together by an unseen force. He scrambles backwards once more as it attempts to stand- stray pieces of flesh still rolling and squishing into place.

"Cassie." He says carefully. "Get back in the RV."

...

[hellcab]

Movie Night - God of Teeth Prelude.

“Wendy, I’m home.”

Roth snacked on salted popcorn, while watching Jack Nicholson give his best performance. Nearby, several casualties of drained beer cans laid scattered. He was alone. The mess never bothered him. It just grew around him and he never thought about it. Just like so many things.

Grasping a handful, Roth greedily devoured the popcorn. Some spilled onto his Mammon Rock Tour shirt. It just occurred that this was his only meal today. Drinking some stale beer, Roth waited and watched for his favorite scene and line. Jack at the door with the axe. Wendy inside, having just sent Doc outside into the cold. Armed with a butcher knife, she waited for Jack.

It was Roth’s favorite scene next to the sea of blood exiting the elevator. He watched with glee while Jack taunted his family.

“Little pigs! Little pigs! Let me in!”

Roth remembered showing the film to several friends. One, being an Imp who found the film hilarious. Different cultures, Roth assumed. Besides, some down here found the concept of familicide hilarious. A staple of comedy that brought the house down. This day was spent on movies. Roth had so many, so many to choose and watch. The bounty from the store was beer, popcorn and candy bars. He remembered Lute saying his diet was worse than some teenagers’. Or was that some teenagers ate better than him? He couldn’t really remember.

All day long, Roth watched all his favorite movies. He escaped into every movie and into every shot. He wanted to escape and never go back. More importantly, he wanted to escape his memory. He was nearing the day of the ritual. The night when “Ultima Discordia” died with another chance for freedom.

He remembered the room. The voice beckoning him to enter. He entered and witnessed it. He couldn’t describe it, but he could see it. Sweat builds on his brow and cheeks. The sensation of ants crawled around inside him.  Inside him, every atom screams in rebellion. Roth’s eyes become glassy, as if becoming entranced. He stares ahead, while Jack takes the axe towards the door. Wendy screams as she holds onto the kitchen knife. More and more, Roth could hear the teeth.

The phone rang and snapped Roth out. He dropped the popcorn onto the shag carpet. Cursing his luck, Roth looked at the phone, then at the mess. Back to the phone then the mess. Back and forth and back. Roth chooses the phone first. Picking up the receiver, Roth continued watching the film play out.

"Yeah, yeah who's this?"

“Heeeeeere’s Johnny!”

“Roth, it’s me Vincent. Vincent Andras.”

Frozen, Roth sat there, not believing the voice he had just heard. He wanted to escape that voice. To escape that man. He waited, just listening to the travelling static on the landline.  He mustered enough courage. Enough politeness, to answer. Though, warmth was missing. The cold of Roth’s voice shared his opinion. He wanted Vince to know how he feels. After so many years of silence.

“Hi, Vince. It’s been some time . . .”

“Yes, yes it has. I . . . I’m calling for something important. Necessary, even.”

Roth gripped the receiver. He clenched his mouth, while he sat on that couch. He stared ahead, watching the film. Yet, his mind remained curious on Vincent. Why was he calling? Why after so many years since the ritual.

“Roth . . . I know we have differences. Differences that-”

“Fuck. You.”

Roth interrupted, while he gripped the receiver even more. His blood was rushing and burning hot. He delved into his venom and wanted to drown Vincent there. Vince coughed on the other end and remained silent. He speaks again, trying his best.

“I wanted to call you . . . to hear you again. I needed to hear your voice. Roth . . . It’s about the ritual.”

Now, Roth flew up from his seat. He screamed into that phone and wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. The night of the ritual, in 1998. The manor house and the dark room. The fear was behind Roth’s every agonizing word. Words of anger and pure fear.

“TALK! TALK about fucking what? We got out by the skin of our fucking teeth! What about Lazlo! Cyntha? Magret and Josh? What about them? THEY’RE FUCKING DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! You killed them with a false promise!”

In many ways, Roth was speaking about himself and Vincent. He blamed himself for what happened on that night. At least, he could blame himself. Vincent always downplayed his part regarding the tragedy. He coped through shrugging the pain off. Then again, that’s all that Roth could see with him. That his old friend couldn’t care anymore than he could afford. The pain was buried inside him as with Roth.

Vincent’s anger was now speaking through the phone. Pain carried over the phone line.

“We were close, Roth! Closer than anyone before us. The door was open, and we could’ve made it! But . . . you choked. You were always a coward running from yourself. You blinked and everyone failed. You. Failed everyone.”

That hurt him more than anything. Roth felt it was true but . . . Vincent always played these games. It was how he controlled people, how he controlled Roth once. He still could even after all these years. Roth just had the benefit of being out of range. Calming his voice, Roth growled and gritted his teeth. Trauma was more present than anger.

“You expected too much. You . . . you demanded too much. You and I . . . . we shouldn’t have survived. Hell . . . the price was too much. What more is there than that . . .”

Vincent sighed on the phone and relented. He speaks again, trying to sound mighty and noble. But his tone betrays his every word. The divide between him and Roth . . . was too much.

“Fine. Stay in Hell, you bastard.”

Before Roth could get his own insult in, Vincent hung up. Roth seemed shocked and insulted and slammed the phone down. The anger remained and burned into his every waking moment. He sat there, breathing and searching for peace. But he found nothing. He wanted to forget. He wanted to forget Vincent and the ritual. The doors and the darkness beyond his own understanding. The thousands and thousands of teeth.

He starts to cry.

[alphateamcaptain]

@iknowwhataradiois | continued

WHO WAS SHE TO TAKE HIS EYE WHEN HE TOOK HERS ?

He sits with one leg crossed over the other , propping his chin up with the palm of his hand . Fingers curl up over his top lip , with just the tops of his eyes peeking through his shades . It was not often she does this , but she never fails to snuff away the possibility of doing so . Brows knotted in a furrow in the middle of his face , SHE HAS STRUCK A NERVE , but to stand over her and have his shadow engulf her , his sea of fire burning her from the inside out would only encourage her to get worse , to be below him .

TO BE THAT CRUEL , THAT WAS HIS GAME — NOT HERS !

An eye for an eye , right ? As the vision goes hazy , of all he had taken could it not be seen as only fair she does it back ? He did always say he was a fair man .

Wesker was not always like this , he had friends in the past that were few and far in between but were still there . They died , because they were IN HIS WAY or otherwise completely accidental . This circles back to S.T.A.R.S in his mind , and what they had .

❝ You do not know me as well as you think , this sliver of my life you see now is not my full story . And you will never know of it . ❞

His walls here a frozen forest in the DEAD OF WINTER , of full cedar trees blanketed in fresh snow and the other trees bare of anything . Their branches were long and crooked as they LEAN down to graze her shoulder as she walks through . The hollows of wind CALL HER NAME with bite , with an ICY rage .

Even if her words and stare and mouth were like an axe to the back of his head , and to his forest , no matter how long she tries to chop him down his ROOTS were under her log cabin . In the end , maybe they will both be nothing but a STUMP amongst ten thousand more .

[heavenridersindia]

Victory Over the Himalayas: My Experience on the Friendship Peak Expedition

There are treks, and then there are adventures that change the course of life. The Friendship Peak Expedition was a trek, a foray into nature, a battle of endurance, and a pilgrimage all in one. Aspiring to 5,289 meters (17,346 feet) above sea level in the Pir Panjal Himalayan range of India, Friendship Peak is both an inviting challenge and a challenging test for mountaineers and trekkers in Himachal Pradesh.

I had long fantasized about being on a Himalayan summit for years. It was finally brought to life when I joined the Friendship Peak Expedition. I trained for months, developing endurance, developing strength, and hardening mentally. No preparation, however, could ever really ready me for the magic—and mayhem—that awaited me in the mountains.

Arriving at the Base

The trek started from Manali, which is a famous hill resort in Himachal Pradesh. Famous for its breathtaking scenery, pine foliage, and crisp mountain air, Manali is the starting point for some of the great treks. We all assembled at a local resort where we had an orientation meeting with our expedition leader. We were a mix of experienced trekkers and keen beginners, all united by the common target of climbing to Friendship Peak.

We trekked from Solang to our base camp in Bakarthach’s green meadows. There were streams with frozen-cold water, sheep grazing, and wildflowers along the way. Every step brought us closer to the snow-crowned peak looming in front of us, partially covered with moving clouds.

Acclimatization and Training

Acclimatization is one of the most significant factors of any high-altitude climb. We acclimatized for two days at Bakarthach. The weather was inclement—sun in the morning and snow in the later part. We practiced equipment usage such as crampons, ice axes, and harnesses during the daytime. We walked on snow slopes and reviewed glacier travel safety procedures.

This segment of the Friendship Peak Expedition taught me how important team effort and discipline are in the mountains. Even basic chores like boiling water or gathering firewood became joint efforts.

The Climb Begins

With training completed and morale running high, we set out for the summit camp. Ascending to higher and higher altitudes was exhausting. The landscape shifted from emerald grasslands to boulder stretches and finally snow-covered ridges. Thin air made it more difficult to breathe, and sharp gusts snapped in our faces. 

We established our summit camp around 4,600 meters. We camped overnight in tents with basic food and attempted to sleep. Sleeping at this altitude is not a joke, but the anticipation of the following day’s attempt at the summit made it even tougher.

The Summit Push

We began our last ascent at 2 a.m., under a starry night sky. Headlamps illuminated the way before us while ropes were fixed, and we climbed slowly, step by step. The snow was hard and icy. Every climber was required to be cautious where he or she placed his or her feet. No sounds were made at night except for the crunch of snow beneath boots and the occasional grunt of encouragement.

At that moment, all of the travail ceased. There was a deep feeling of peace, thanksgiving, and oneness—to the earth, to the fellow climbers, and to self.

The Way Back

Coming down was no cakewalk. Even though it was quicker, knees creaked and groaned, and we began to feel tired. We meandered back to summit camp and then base camp over the next two days. We had a hot meal, a fit of laughter, and lots of tales once we returned to Manali.

The Friendship Peak Expedition did not merely teach me how to climb. It taught me patience, perseverance, and the beauty of living in the moment. It taught me that the best things in life are often more than you know you can do.

Things to Know Before You Go

If you are going to try the Friendship Peak Expedition, the following tips might be useful:

Fitness is a must— Train at least 2-3 months in advance. Ensure you do cardio, strengthening, and endurance workouts.

Get equipped wisely—purchase quality trekking shoes, thermals, and a good backpack.

Travel with a specialist group—choose a seasoned guide or organization that is well familiar with the trail.

Acclimatize adequately—never rush while ascending. Spend enough time in high camps to let your body acclimatize.

Take your sense of adventure—the mountains will test you but also provide memories for a lifetime.

Why Friendship Peak?

The Friendship Peak Expedition is perfect for individuals who would like to experience true mountaineering without getting into extreme altitudes like Everest or Kanchenjunga. It’s challenging enough to test your limits but still possible with proper acclimatization.

Final Thoughts

Adventure makes you a different person—and the Friendship Peak Expedition made me a better one. It taught me to value nature more than ever, trust myself more than ever, and experience things that will stay with me forever. If you get the opportunity, take the leap of faith and enroll. The mountains are beckoning—and you have to go. Originally Published Here:-https://heavenridersindia.com/friendship-peak-expedition-himalayas-victory/

[graha-stan-account]

FFXIV Write 2024; Day 4: Reticent

Ja’zerrau was late. She usually was. Luckily, her fishing companion hadn’t set sail without her.

“Came soon as I could!” She was panting, words sticking to the roof of her mouth as she doubled over her knees, sweat dripping to the ground.

“Clearly,” said Llashallir, turning first with his eyes, then his head and finally swiveling his whole body to face her. He was graceful, like a willow in spring breeze. Like a predator. He leaned a fishing rod in her direction. “Here’s yours.”

“You’re not gonna ask what I’ve been up to?”

Llashallir returned his gaze to the sea beyond.

Ja’zerrau sighed. Llashallir’s silence was learned. There was a time when Ja’zerrau could keep an conversation going with him for bells. But now it had stopped. “Well, I was mud wrestling a behemoth for my coinpurse!”

He blinked pronouncedly at her.

“Fine! I was drinking with those Scarlet Sirens,” she paused gauging his reaction, “... or whatever they’re called.”

“You fell asleep on the beach again, right?”

“How did you know!” Her exclamation escaped as a whine. “You’re really able to read me like a book, huh?”

“You’re still covered in sand, Rau.”

“--Oh.” She looked down at herself. She took the rod which hung between them at long last. “So how long have you been waiting?”

“It’s not because I dislike you or anything, Rau.” Llashallir was staring distantly, frozen except for the gentle sea breeze causing his loose hair and braids to undulate. “You just ask too many questions.”

“Huh?” she replied, straightening.

“Just like that.” He took his weight off the railing and stood straight. He offered a tight grin as he looked at her properly for the first time today. “You’re ready to fish, I take it?”

Ja’zerrau’s eyes grew large and round. She bent the length of the rod gently in her grasp. “Oh I can’t wait! These excursions are the talk of the tavern! Fishers are catching all sorts of exotic and tasty fish!” She suddenly grew even more excited. “If we catch a really, really rare fish, maybe it’ll be worth a lot of money!” She gasped. “What if it’s a really tasty fish? Maybe the chef at the Bismark will be so impressed he’ll cook it for us?”

Llashallir chuckled. “Don’t get carried away.” Several hundred yalms away, people toting tackleboxes began to shuffle toward the dock. The pair shared a glance and made their way down the wooden planks.

Several hours and less than a dozen fish later, a lull overcame the ship. Fishers were tucking into whatever provisions they took a long for the journey. Others dozed against the taffrail.

Llashallir and Ja’zerrau sat back to back.

“Are you excited to see Old Sharlayan?” Ja’zerrau asked.

“I suppose. It’s an island at least.”

“An island full of new things! And wild beasts, and, according to Matty... libraries.”

“Matty does love her books.” After a long pause he added: “Will we be able to find passage to Tural from there? I know Xak Tural well enough, if the captain is unwilling to go all the way to Tuliyollal. I can lead us there.” 

“I was thinking we make a bit of coin off those stuffy types and use it to finance the next leg of our journey. It doesn’t have to be Tural! I like to keep my options open!”

“I would prefer Tural.” He paused, but Ja’zerrau did not reply. Hidden from his stare, her ears perked up, waiting for him to continue. “I have not returned to Tural in a long time.”

Such a statement told Ja’zerrau little. Llashallir was several decades her senior, despite his complexion. A long time to him could mean decades or - Ja’zerrau’s personal frame of reference-  several weeks.

“So you’re disappointed?”

“A bit.”

“You seem angry, too.” Ja’zerrau looked into her lap. Perhaps Llashallir was cross with her after all. Perhaps he didn’t like having a kid make decisions for their group. Even if that kid happened to be really good with an axe and didn’t get questioned at the tavern when she ordered an ale last.

“Not angry.” He sighed. “I was looking forward to going back. I... have the strangest feeling something’s happened.” Ja’zerrau knew Llashallir had been a hunter and trapper his whole life, but she did not really think about the ties he had made before meeting their troupe.

Ja’zerrau looked up. “Do you have loved ones there? You’re worried for them?”

“I just... have an odd feeling.” He tipped his head back, long ears pushing Ja’zerrau’s cap further down on her eyes.

“Then we’ll fill our purses quick, and then it’s off on the first ship bound for the New World!”