#same arrangement but they’re not holding any weapons

[sugarcarnation]

love love love how similar these two panels are. makes me insane

[girlkisser13]

ares cabin headcanons

children of ares

• it’s more difficult to break a weapon in a child of war’s hand (with the exception being if someone was a child of the big three).

• they can pull of any shade of red.

• camo EVERYTHING. they just have a weird obsession with camo.

• a lot of them obsessively collect sneakers.

• they have nicknames/call signs for all their members, they don't choose one when they join, it'll be given to them sooner or later.

• leather jackets, military boots, aviators, chains, chokers and metal rings are the norm.

• there's always that one kid that likes to show off their butterfly knife tricks. (i’m sorry if that’s you.)

• every one of them has a scar somewhere, usually they got it even before they came to camp. they treat scars like tattoos—the bigger and more obvious they are, the more badass they are.

• all the armies on the loosing side are forced to serve them and their father so they can summon them at a time of battle and increase their power by invoking their father’s powers.

• they’re the best fighters in camp, but that doesn't mean all they have is physical strength.

• they have the strength to stand their ground and defend a point that is so strongly that many of them become outstanding politicians.

• they don't just teach people how to fight monsters, but they also basic self-defence for anyone who feels unsafe in the city.

• the tradition of capture the flag initially started as a dispute between the ares and athena cabin, with the other camps joining one of the two.

• it has always been a ceremony for the two cabins to always be against each other.

• they all have excellent posture because they’re always training, so they’re always wearing breastplates. (i’m assume breastplates improve your posture the same way corsets do).

• rumor has it there's an underground fight club that's invite-only (but you didn't hear that from me).

•those who have a taken a vow of nonviolence run an anger management group for their siblings who want to gain a little more control.

cabin exterior

• the cabin has a rugged, fortress-like appearance, with sturdy stone walls that seem built to withstand a siege. the front door is made of reinforced steel, adorned with battle scars and dents.

• it also has heavy punk rock aesthetics, which is ironic considering how much discipline is enforced within its members.

• various weapons, such as swords, spears, and shields, are displayed prominently on the walls, either as decoration or trophies from past battles. some are enchanted to glow faintly, adding an aura of intimidation.

• the cabin is adorned with tattered banners and flags, each representing a different battle or conquest. the ares symbol, a wild boar or a spear, is prominently displayed.

• the walls are covered in graffiti and markings made by the cabin members, depicting their victories, names, and personal symbols. these give the cabin a rough, lived-in look.

• the cabin itself might show signs of past conflicts, with scorch marks, cracks, and patched-up sections that hint at the intensity of the cabin's training sessions and disputes.

• at the entrance, there are statues of ares himself, standing guard and setting the tone for those who enter.

• the stuffed boar head at the front of the cabin acts as a surveillance system, it’s enchanted to squeal when there are intruders.

cabin interior

• the cabin has a minimalist, utilitarian design, with few decorations and a focus on functionality. the beds are simple, sturdy cots, and personal belongings are kept to a minimum.

• the bunks are arranged in a regimented, military style, with each camper's area neatly organized. personal spaces include a footlocker for storing gear and a small, sturdy nightstand.

• ac/dc is constantly playing in the background?

• every available wall space is utilized for weapon racks and shelves, holding an array of swords, spears, axes, and shields.

• the cabin has an area dedicated to training, with punching bags, weights, and practice dummies. there is even be a small sparring ring in one corner for indoor practice.

• various trophies from past battles and quests are displayed inside the cabin, including weapons, monster teeth, claws, and other memorabilia. these serve as a testament to the cabin's prowess in combat.

• large maps detailing various battlefields and strategic locations are pinned to the walls. they have markers and notes, reflecting ongoing planning and strategies.

• the interior features rough, durable materials like stone and wood, designed to withstand heavy use and combat-related activities. the floors are covered in animal skins and thick, worn rugs.

cabin traditions

• for every child of war that has died in battle, a spear bearing their name is placed on the roof of the cabin.

• they have a ritual where members show off their battle scars and share stories of how they got them, celebrating their bravery and toughness.

• they have regular evenings dedicated to cleaning, sharpening, and maintaining their weapons and armor, often accompanied by storytelling or strategizing.

• they have CONSTANT meetings where they plan strategies for capture the flag and other camp activities, often held in a militaristic fashion with a focus on tactics and leadership.

• they have regular sparring sessions where they challenge each other to friendly duels to improve their skills and rank within the cabin.

• before major events like capture the flag, they paint their faces and arms with war paint as a symbol of their readiness for battle and to intimidate their opponents.

divider by @sunkupng

[quicktosimp]

Girls Night

Kinktober Day 23 Ronal&Neytiri

Warnings: Biting, Blood Kink, Hair Pulling, Enemies to Lovers (Not Really), Cunnilingus, Tongue Fucking. Rough Play, (minor) choking, Jake and Tonowari Love Their Wives

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this one. It is very plot heavy for the first half

Thank you @pandoraslxna, for putting this event together for us 💖

Divider by @plutism

“Would you do this for us, pretty girl, please?” Jake begs on his knees.

“We would be forever grateful for your assistance,” Tonowari muttered, standing behind Jake.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I mutter, “ So let me get this straight because your wives are fighting instead of handling it yourselves. You want to gift me to them so they can use me for their carnal pleasures, and they’ll hopefully get along after? How does any of this make sense?” 

“They’re both onto you, and we think that they will put their differences aside in order to sleep with you.” Jake smiled uncertainly.

Tonowari steps in, “We have already tried sleep with each other's wives, but their quarrel does not lay with us, but each other. If they both sleep with you at the same time, then they will have to face one another in an intimate setting.”

I look between the two of them at their hopeful faces, “You do realize that if they don’t tear me apart during the process, I’m going to be a bloody mess at the least.” I sigh defeatedly, my dreams for a quiet night gone.

Tonowari chuckles, “Being with one of those women will guarantee bloody marks. I will make sure to pack Ronal a healing bag when she goes to meet you.” He runs his hand down my arm.

 “Pack a healing bag? Do you really think that’s a convincing argument?” I asked, bewildered. 

“Well, that may not be convincing, but you are going to have two territorial women, both eager to outdo each other and their goal is your pleasure, Sweetheart. They’re both gonna fight for your attention, and their weapon of choice will be pleasure.” Jake says, holding my hands.

Jake’s words affected me, heat traveling to my core, but I acted like I remained unaffected, “Why is this becoming a thing? The last three times you and Tonowari got into tiffs, you’re wives asked me individually to help state you, and now you two are throwing me at them? What kind of arrangement is this?” I bemoaned, utterly bewildered by these continuing events. 

Tonowari took one of my hands from Jake and brought it to his lips, “The same arrangement that keeps everyone calm and happy, the same arrangement where all of our children stay at your marui, or you children come to ours, the same arrangement were you sleep together on our sleeping mates between us. We could never make you choose between us, so we are happy with how things are.”

His earnest reply brought tears to my eyes. Knowing what he said was true.

As I blink back tears, I give them my answer, “Alright, eclipse sounds good. I have not slept with either Neytiri or Ronal yet. They both deserve my attention, too. I do not want them to think that I am not interested in them the same way. I want to give them my love.” I speak earnestly. 

“Thank you, Love,” Jake kisses me softly.

“Yes, thank you, Sumtsyìp,” Tonowari kisses me after, “Do not worry about the kids; Jake and I will care for them.” 

“Alright, but be warned, Enzo has been moody lately. He may do better if you stick him with Aonung.” I reference my youngest son, only two years old. 

A deep rumbling laugh came from Tonowari, “I have never seen something so small be so terrifying. But seeing Aonung taking on a more caring role is nice.” 

Jake matches Tonowari’s laugh, “Neteyam is still disgruntled that Enzo chose Aonung over him. He always watches them pouting.” 

“It doesn’t help that not one of my three kids chose him. My kids love Neteyam; there is no doubt about that, but none of them chose to cling to him.” I laugh, shaking my head.

“We’ll all sleep at our marui. That way, we can all be together when you three return.” Tonowari decided.

“If you want all nine kids under the same roof, then you will need as much luck as I do.” I mostly joke. Jake’s face went pale at the sight.

“Alright, you need to prepare for tonight, as do we. We will see you either late during eclipse or after.” Tonowari kisses me one last time before turning to leave.

“Good luck tonight. I will ensure Neytiri has a pouch of everything you need.” Jake kisses me after, holding me tight.

“Thank you, Love. I will need all the help I can get, being in between those impatient women.” 

Jake just laughs in response.

My marui is farther away from the hub of the village. Instead, I chose a smaller, secluded marui near some land. I have a small portion of isolated beach to myself and am able to grow human-safe food for my kids and me. Even a smaller marui is plenty big for four humans, but once I started hosting nightly sleepovers with the Sully kids, Aonung, Tsireya, and even Rotxo, I had to expand my marui. I moved my garden further away and added on to my marui to accommodate all the kids. 

While waiting for Ronal and Neytiri to arrive, I clean up any leftover clutter and move the furniture aside, giving a wide room to play with and making it easier to clean up after. While I had not slept with either of them yet, I had heard stories and knew that tonight would end in a huge mess. 

I sit on the dock leading from my marui, enjoying the gentle waves and the breeze when two presences sit on either side of me.

“The stars here are always so bright.” I start, not looking away, “I had never seen the stars before coming here. Earth is too polluted, smog covers the sky, and even sunny days are a rarity. I took up bioengineering and environmental studies, hoping that maybe I could make a difference and help save my world. But the RDA had other plans. They asked every scientist in my field of study to work for them, and if you disagreed, you were taken by force.” I explain, the thoughts weighing heavy on me.

“That’s how I got brought here, kicking and screaming. Two women were in the same boat as me, forced to work for them, but we were kept together. Kiana and Lethabo were headstrong women and damn good at what they do. Lethabo fell pregnant first, and Kiana fell pregnant four months later. Damn, did that tick off the higher-ups,” I smile at the memory of their fuming faces before my face turns sour, “Lethabo died while birthing Kagiso, he was a big baby she tore severely, and they couldn’t stop the bleeding in time. Kiana and I cared for him together while still forced to work for those bastards.” Tears fell from my eyes, remembering how the RDA doctor handed me Kagiso without a word before turning away.

“A couple of months later, Kiana gave birth to Dakila, who was the description of a bouncing baby boy. About two years later, there was talk about the RDA. That we needed to start a human population on Pandora, and many of the non-cooperative members were on the roster for impregnation. As Kiana had already given birth, they were going to wait until Dakila was older and didn’t need as much care. On the other hand, I hadn’t been pregnant, and they wanted to change that. Thankfully, many people, whether they were there willingly or not, hated this and would help sneak women birth control or give them their choice of man, whichever they preferred. There was a man there, part of the medical division. We had been seeing each other for a while and thought having a kid would have been wiser, so I slept with him, and the pregnancy test came back positive two weeks later. Having two two-year-olds and being pregnant was difficult, but things only got worse.” I swallow the lump in my throat, wiping at my tears, arms wrapped around me, one on each side.

“The higher-ups were worried that the kids would take after us and not want anything to do with the RDA. So they devised a ‘childcare’ system where all the staff would take the kids from the mothers and raise them.” A gasp leaves Neytiri, horrified by what she heard.

“So we planned an escape. It took months to get everything we needed. The biggest thing was the newest experimental drug, changing the human lungs to breathe Pandora’s air. It was the most painful thing I had ever been through, and we had to do it to our kids. I can never forget their screams.” My voice came out choked from my sobs.

“Finally, the day came, and we ran. We blew up labs and equipment. We killed as many loyal members of the RDA as we could. I was heavily pregnant, so my job was to escort the kids to a safe place. I carried Kagiso and Dakila and refused to let them go. My group was to never engage and hide at all costs. We were to regroup at the chosen location, but things went south. The RDA refused to take this standing down. They slaughtered us; hundreds of people were gone in seconds. I waited at the location with the kids, waiting for the 893 members of escapees to return. Only 93 made it back. Kiana wasn’t one of them. Neither was the man who got me pregnant. So I was alone, pregnant with two kids. I lost everyone that night. That was three years ago today.” I trail off.

“Oh, Yawne. You have seen too much,” Neytiri's voice was horce, as holds me closer.

Ronal does not say anything as she moves closer to me; her arm tightens around me, and tears fall into my hair.

“I was originally going to see if the kids could go with either of you, and I would stay here. But I’m glad I’m not going to be alone tonight, and I’m glad you two are here.” I admit. The ache in my heart was easing from their love. 

“Yawntutsyìp, we will always be here for you, and we will not leave you alone on this day again.” Ronal’s voice was firm, hiding her tears well. 

 “Thank you, my Loves,” I whisper, basking in their attention.

Neytiri and Ronal hold me as we watch the waves, the bioluminescent fish swimming around underneath us. This movement is sweet and heartful. It also shows that they can get along, and I remember the original plan. 

Sniffling, I ask, “Can we go into the marui? I have it set up for us.”

They unwind from me, helping me up. Walking hand in hand into my marui. They both seemed surprised by the looks of my marui, knowing that it was now or never.

“Ma Tìyawn, is everything alright?” Neytiri asks, confused.

“This is quite odd. Why is all of your furniture pushed aside? Were you thinking of expanding again?” Ronal asked, trying to make sense of the situation.

I giggle as I walk to the middle of the marui, slipping off the top that Tonowari had made me, exposing my breasts to them.

“I’ve heard rumors of you two, so I thought I’d make clean up easier.” I smile at them, beckoning them with my hand. 

 The two of them were shocked still, as their eyes dilated. Waiting for them to react, I continue to strip, uniting my tewng, leaving me bare in front of them. Ronal started forward, wrapping me in her arms kissing me hungrily. Another set of arms wrapped around my waist, Neytiri’s mouth working on my navel, placing open-mouthed kisses on me. I gasped into Ronal’s mouth, enjoying Neytiri’s mouth and tongue.

Not one to be outdone, Ronal’s hand travels to my breast, circling my nub in tantalizing circles, swiftly becoming a stiff peek in her hold. I moan at the dule stimulations as I fight on where to put my hands. One threads into Neytiri’s hair, while the other bends to hold Ronal’s face. 

 As Neytiri leaves more kisses, she opens her mouth wider before sinking her teeth into my hip.

Letting go of Ronal’s lips, I moan, “Tiri!” I knew it was coming, but the sharp pain giving way to a burn was unexpected. 

Neytiri holds her teeth there before sucking the skin into her mouth, undoubtedly leaving a dark purple mark there. She quickly moves to the fleshy part of my stomach, her sharp teeth easily breaking the skin. 

I pull at her hair, “Oh, Tiri,” I hiss, loving the painful pleasure. 

“You seem to be forgetting about me, Yawntutsyìp.” Nipping at the shell of my ear, warm liquid flowed down as she moved to my neck; giving it the same treatment, blood flowed down my neck and onto my chest. 

Through heavy eyes, Neytiri meets my own, sticking her tongue out and licking up the trail of blood before sealing my mouth in a kiss. The taste of my blood was on her tongue as she forced it into my mouth. She licks and sucks on my mouth feverishly, not giving me the time to breathe. Her tongue takes over my mouth,  not leaving a space untouched, as she pushes it down my throat. I gag around her tongue, and tears spring to my eyes, but the feeling goes straight to my core as I rub my thighs together. 

Ronal’s hand takes over mine, pulling Neytiri away from me, “Are you always such a savage?” She growled.

A deep hiss came from Neytiri as she flashed her blood-covered fangs at Ronal, “Maybe if you paid attention, you’d see that my Paskalin likes it.” 

 Ronal bared her teeth at Neytiri’s challenge, “Our Syulang is still a tawtute. Small and fragile, I will not see you choking her again,” Ronal demanded.

“Ronal, it is okay,” I turn her face to look at me, “Jake and Tonowari do worse,” I explain calmly.

She huffed at my response, “That may have been more convincing if your mouth wasn’t covered in blood.” Ronal used her other hand to wipe the blood off my chin and lips.

“Please, Ronal, let go of Neytiri and check that her words are true.” I pout at her, widening my eyes.

Ronal let go of Neytiri’s hair, kneeling on the floor between my legs. She bent me over, so I grabbed onto Neytiri’s shoulders for balance, my tits hanging in front of her face. Ronal spread my legs wide. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve been down here. It's quite a different sight since giving birth,” Ronal muttered, parting my folds with her finger, “As much as I would love you to be with child again, I must say this is a pretty sight.” Before she licks a stripe from my clit to my hole.

“Oh!” I shouted, but I didn’t expect her tongue already.

I push my cunt into Ronal’s face, wanting more of her tongue. Ronal gives it eagerly as she focuses on my clit, sucking it into her mouth.

‘Oh fuck, Ronal, that’s good.” I moan, clawing at Neytiri’s shoulders.

Ronal pulls away from my clit with a pop, “See Neytiri, this is how you treat our tawtute.” I could feel her smirk on my folds before she nipped them. 

I buck my hips at the stimulation, but Ronal simply grabs them, holding me in place.

“Is Ronal being mean to you, Yawne? How about I play with your pretty tits until she gives it up to me?”  Neytiri teased, taking one of my nipples in her mouth.

 Bombarded by them both, Ronal continues to switch between possessive licks and harsh nips while Neytiri suckles on my tit, her teeth following soon after, leaving a ring of teeth marks in her wake. I can hear the sounds of Ronal slurping at my pussy, soaked from their actions and still needing more. 

“Please! No more teasing!” I whine. 

Both of them chuckle at me before eating me like I was their last meal. Ronal pushed my hips forward before bullying her tongue into my cunt, the thick, long appendage sinking deeper than my fingers could ever reach as she suctioned her mouth around the rest of my cunt, pulling on my folds and clit in the process. Neytiri moved back to my mouth, tongue fucking it while her fingers played with my nipples. She pinched, pulled, and sucked at my nipples as her tongue pushed down my throat again. Ready for this time, I suck on her blood-soaked tongue. 

I rock my body between them as they bring me closer to my high, overstimulating my body.  Ronal’s tongue pistons in and out of me, suckling on my swollen clit; my folds are throbbing from the marks she left there earlier as she pulls on them repeatedly. My thighs start to shake as my climax nears. I moan and yell into Neytiri’s mouth. She only chuckles at my plight before twisting my nipples as Ronal nips at my clit. My knees gave out as my climax hit me. Ronal was able to hold me up with ease as she continued her onslaught, refusing to let me go for a second of my high. I fought to get my cunt away from Ronal’s mouth, crying as the pleasure became too much. Neytiri pulled me away from her, cradling me to her chest.

“And you call me the savage? Yawntutsyìp was begging to get away from you.” Neytiri snarled.

“She was fine; I was going to pull another orgasm from her before you stopped me,” She hissed back.

“Both of you enough.” I demand, “Just give me a minute to relax, and we can go again. Just please, no more fighting,” I trail off into begging. 

They stand there looking at me before looking at each other as they seem to come to an agreement.

“Alright, Sumtsyìp. We will get along just for you,” Ronal agreed, curling around me in front of Neytiri. 

“But as soon as you are relaxed, we won't be stopping until your floor is soaked,” Neytiti trails off with a sharp grin.

[indecisive-dizzy]

Hmmmmm,,,,,,,,,, pookie I’m thinking about exploring Howdy/Daisey’s relationship in different aus

Cause I made one au where Howdy’s the owner of a shady bar on one side of town and Daisey owns a flower shop on the other side of town

Basically one of those tattoo artist and florist aus but replace tattoo artist with shady bartender

Howdy’s basically kind of a red flag, he owns weapons, he’s rude, involves himself with shady people, he’s just shady 😭

Overall, he’s not the best person but he’s kind and does care. He’s just,,,,, shady but he tries :,3

Meanwhile Daisey’s basically the same besides what they do and how they act. They’re a lot calmer, mostly focus on gardening and selling their floral arrangements, they’re a nice person, they’re silly :D

Thinking FlowerShop are so messy individually that it cancels out in their relationship and they work out

But they’re a bit,,,, codependent when it comes to relationships. They’re messy 😭

I love toxic yaoi they’re so fun

Their relationship is pretty calm, it’s just they both kinda suck so they end up messy 😭

Daisey totally walks in the rain with an umbrella while Howdy’s running and holding his bag over his head

I can kinda see Howdy promoting his bar in a silly way but he’s lowkey a criminal so it just looks so weird

I need to design them I love these kinds of aus

It’s basically JD and Veronica from Heathers without the murder and the trying to blow places up thing-

Howdy in this au is just a calmer JD I love him

They live on opposite sides of town so they don’t get to hang out too often

Daisey ALWAYS tries to share an umbrella with Howdy, they get so pissy when they can’t

Daisey occasionally give Howdy silly bangs and Howdy gets Daisey silly sunglasses 😎

They’re so in love it’s sickening /j

Howdy lowkey looks a little off in this au- like in a criminal way and everyone’s confused cause he’s so good with Daisey

I have barely any ideas that I can verbalize :,3

I live them I need to draw them but I’m art blocked 😭

Shady bartender Howdy hmmmm *looks at you in mob!au* /silly

Florist Daisey and Bartender Howdy is giving scary dog bf and his "I can fix him" partner ahgahfhahs

Love how their energies cancel out when together that's so sweet and funny

Howdy's got like fun, colorful and real energetic advertising for the shadiest place ever. It's just normal Howdy advertising but he's got prison tattoos and you can see a gun strapped to his belt XD

HEATHERS MENTION <3

A calmer JD,, so less traumatized? (oof sorry)

Give silly makeovers to your criminal bf and he'll give you a pair of shades he stole from the 7/11 lmao

[fakesurprise]

The Interview

The thing is, stories only lie. You grow up hearing them, and they’re lies. Even when you’re ordered to believe them, that doesn’t make them true. Everyone said: you do not go after this one. You do not interfere in his affairs. Do. Nothing.

But the town of Bellvine treated us like kings. Like gods. We got the shit done that the police couldn’t. We did the things the gangs couldn’t. Yeah, we were scary. But we’d earned that fear. We’re made it a weapon. We kept problems away because our bite beat any bark. Because we did whatever we had to, and we kept our town safe.

Try to bring in a Wal-Mart? First your pets go missing. Maybe a friend or two. A few accidents. A wrecked vehicle. Keep pushing, and pretty soon your family is begging you to stop because it turns out that a megastore isn’t the same as having all your limbs. Funny, that. Amazing how little profits start mattering when things get physical and real. Once a suit stops insulating you from the world you learn the lessons the world teaches.

Some of them fight back. Most of the assholes know to run. We’re not good people, but we kept the town safe so that other people could be good. We did the necessary evils, so that no one else had to. We drew the lines in the sand. We burned down homes, salted lawns, and sacrificed our own before anyone else. Then he arrived.

He didn’t have a suit. He wasn’t much of anything. A background character in a drab world, fitting right in to crowds and dull offices. Only Bellvine changed. He walked and things changed. People got something in their step. Things shifted. Balances. Beliefs. The other minor gangs melted away. Even our signs vanished from the shops we protected, and no one knew how. A few people realized it was him. They’re not here anymore.

There are arrangements. Alliances. Intel. So we asked, and were told: he’s called Honcho, sometimes. He has other names. He’s a wandering magician. You do not mess with him. These weren’t requests, but orders. Magicians we’d heard of; the world isn’t so big that secrets aren’t known to people who get things done. But we didn’t take orders, and he was just a person. Even so; first vehicle stalled. Second missed. He didn’t even notice the third that tried to run him down.

The fourth one took, because it was dropped on him. A woman with him shoved him, but not far enough. Somehow, she didn’t get hit and he was alive and aware, shaking his head to clear it. Lucky sonofa – but luck only goes so far, when everyone else has clubs. Took longer than it should have to beat him unconscious. The woman was easier. She tried to intimidate us, and that doesn’t work. Not in Bellvine.

We shoved them into holding cells under the old refinery. (It went bankrupt before our time: we would have kept it going.) The doc gave them drugs, and I was having a beer while Daryl and Karen and Li kept watch. That’s the thing about power: you only have it so long as you keep fighting for it. But you become more than a ‘gang’ when you learn what you’re really fighting for. Friends. Family. The town. Only thing that matters is what you live for. Because that’s the thing you’d die for. Simple as. We kept the town safe, and we kept it whole.

I was considering whether to ask to see my kid. Wife is still scared of me, said this was the ‘wrong crowd’ and she didn’t know me anymore. Judge said I can see my kid whenever I want: the judges know what’s best for everyone. Well. They learn to. Unless they want their bread buttered with pain. But I was waiting for her to understand. I think that’s why I saw him first.

The kid was eleven. Barefoot, with bright pink jeans, a rope belt, Hawaiian top and a frilly hat. I saw him, blinked. And I figured he was with the magician and his weird friend who thought she was scary, because his clothing was sensible a moment later: dark jeans, t-shirt. Still barefoot as he walked towards me.

“Can I help you?” I said, in my best, ‘get lost or else’ tone. Never let them see you are scared.

“I don’t think so. Charlie and Honcho are here, and they should be at the hotel. But the hotel exploded in an oops, and I’d like to know why?”

“Kid. You’re in a story you want no part of. Go away, get back to your family, and I’ll pretend I didn’t see you.”

I don’t know if the kid even heard me. His head was cocked to the side oddly, as if listening to someone else. “You people hurt Honcho.”

He didn’t move, but every instinct screamed at me to run. “East door, hostile,” I screamed instead.

Because Karen was on the roof, and she’d never made it into the army but they’d have wept with joy if she had. The kid stumbled. Blinked.

“Wow! Your bullets really want to shoot me,” he said, and dropped four from his right hand. His face shifted, and he blinked again, face oddly blank. “Nope. Not doing that.”

And he walked toward me, slowly. Li came around the corner and she had her knives out. I’d seen those make government agents bleed, and the boy just caught one, almost absently.

“Oh! I get it now. You think you’re strong.” And he walked forward, still slow. Casual. Li threw another blade, digging out a gun. I was frozen in shock. I’d never been frozen in shock in my life: I’d seen some shit, and done a fair bit more. It’s why I was in when so many others were out.

But something about the boy’s face scared me. Like he was angry, but not in any way I could understand. Like he should have looked like something, and was trying not to and it made no sense at all.

He snapped his fingers, and I heard Karen make a noise I’d never heard from any throat.

I looked up. The sky wasn’t. For a moment it was – there was something other where the sky should be, and it took Karen someplace that wasn’t a place at all. Li went to run, and hit the ground with a moan, twitching as if something heavy has fallen on her. It sounded like a car, but there wasn’t one near her.

I think Daryl tried to run, but I don’t know.

The boy turned to me. “You have keys, so you can open the door and take me to Charlie and Honcho.”

I reached down the front of my pocket, for the gun beside my keys, and came out with the keys. I didn’t mean to, but I did.

I opened the door, and the boy followed me down the stairs. I knew the way in the dark: I don’t think he even noticed it was dark.

I opened the cell with the woman in it. She stood up, staring at the boy behind me. “Jay?”

“You were hurt. So I am here to help,” the boy said, precise and distinct.

“Okay,” the woman said, and she walked past me. I didn’t mean to let her. She didn’t do anything weird, but she was past me and beside the boy, not quite touching him.

I moved to the next cell, and this one the woman opened with a quick, harsh gesture. Doing a thing, tight and controlled.

The ‘magician’ was inside. I hadn’t brought him down. I didn’t know who had. But he’d been bound to a wall, and there was blood, and it looked like a room from a bad video game, with weird symbols on the walls and body.

The boy stepped forward. Stopped. “They put him outside his body, and if we disrupt it –.”

The boy turned to me, then. His expression was terrifyingly calm. “You’re going to use the keys, unchain the wandering magician and bring him into this hallway.”

“The Bellvine Ravagers don’t –.”

“You do many things. I see that, right now. You hurt many people, trying to pretend it’s not hurt. Thinking strength like that makes you powerful, because other people bow to you. And then you use it on people who can’t harm you, and think that makes you stronger still. No one is made better by being made weak, but that is all you and yours have done. You could win hearts, but instead you glory in breaking spirits.”

The woman was still beside the boy, her eyes wide. Gaze focused on him, and not on the magician.

“The thing about power,” the boy said, softer, “is that those who wield it suffer from it, even as their victims do. And so many try and find ways around that. But that is a concern for those who use power. Not for those who are power.”

“Jay –.”

“You are going to free Honcho and bring him into the hallway, or you won’t see your family again because they will have never been,” the boy said. “But you will still remember them even if they’re not. I don’t want to be the kind of being that does that. So please do this?”

And I did it. I got the magician out, and the magician blinked and stood a moment later, unhurt and unharmed.

“Jay,” he said, soft too.

“I’m not quite Jay right now,” the boy said.

“You aged a week,” the woman said, and her calm was barbed wire.

“Oh!” The boy blinked, and somehow was just a boy of eleven again and just that.

“Did I grow?” he asked in an excited tone.

“In some way we’d rather you didn’t,” the woman said. “We can discuss it at the hotel when you fix it?”

“I can do that!” The boy vanished with the woman.

The man turned to me.

“How long have you known Jay?” he asked. There was no calm: his voice was a demand.

“Four minutes and twelve seconds,” came out of me against my will.

“And in all that time, you never saw Jay smile.” He stepped back. “There is nothing even I can do to you that is as terrible as that truth, and I want to hurt you very much right now for hurting Jay.”

I think he was going to say other things, but the shadows became a door and he walked into them without looking back at me.

I don’t know what happened to the rest of the Ravagers. I’ve never heard of you Black Chamber people. No one stopped me from leaving the town. No one – no one stops me from doing anything, but it never seems to matter. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what that boy was.

I don’t know what he didn’t do.

I haven’t gone home. I’m not sure I have anything like that anymore.

[vampirewalterskinner]

hiiii for the poly fluff ask

mulder x skully x skinner (have they even got a ship name?)

b, e , p please

The ot3 🥰 Thank you so much for asking! I’m not sure they have a ship name, but my tag for them is “#ot3: never beating those favoritism allegations” because Skinner is never beating those favoritism allegations lmao

I think they’re all snugglers. Fox and Dana have proven time and time again throughout the show that they like curling up together and Walter, in my opinion, is HELLA touch starved. They like to sleep in the same bed as often as they can. As for regular sleeping arrangements, I think they would shake it up but I love to write Walter as the monkey in the middle 🥰 as a treat 💖 I don’t think they like to sleep alone but sometimes it’s necessary when Walter (or any of them, really) has PTSD induced nightmares.

Canonly, this is definitely a Dana thing. She loves bringing them to family stuff and the family adores the boys as much as she does. (I actually think Bill would genuinely like Walter while hating Fox lmao.) BUT I love the idea of Walter having a big family that’s constantly holding events and gatherings but Walter is the stick in the mud 😂 He’s grumpy and everyone else is walking sunshine—and naturally they adore Fox and Dana.

Fox and Dana do NOT give a fuck when it comes to pda. The entirety of the FBI, Dana’s mama, and God could be watching them and those two would not care. They’ll do as they please and that generally means comforting and showing each other love. Walter, on the other hand, is not a pda man 😂 Dude kept all his relationships a secret. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love them, he’s just very uncomfortable with people knowing his private business. He also uses it as a weapon. If Fox misbehaves and puts his life at risk, then Walter isn’t kissing that fool again until he learns not to give him and Dana a heart attack. Fox is the kisser. On the lips. On the forehead. On the neck or wrist or shoulder. Anything he can reach. He likes to pair it with holding their hands, one or both. He wants them to know how much he adores them. Dana likes to hold them and touch them. Her fingers combing through Fox’s hair. Her fingers rubbing Walter’s shoulders and roaming down his back. Touching their faces. Pulling them into her arms 🥰 Walter is the word guy. He’s pledged his heart and soul to them too many times on the show for me to disregard it 😵‍💫 (Season 11 “Kitten” episode, you mean everything to me.) He’s such a quiet guy that half the time he surprises them with sweet words from his deep voice. It’s always praise and awe he shares with them, genuine thoughts that make Fox and Dana burn bright red. He doesn’t really think about what his words do to them. He tells them because it’s the truth. Doesn’t realize it makes them want to jump his bones lmao

[thestalwartheart]

For the one word prompts, if you have time and are so inspired: 00Q "storm"

I have time and was very inspired. Thanks to you and @mr-iskender for sending in the prompt for storm! You can read the fill for it below or on AO3.

Enjoy! 💖

“I can’t say this is exactly how I’d pictured passing my time here,” sighs Q, sinking onto a purposefully-gathered pile of cushions.

Bond hums in agreement. “I pictured you in the bed, not on the floor.”

“Well, personally, I think that shows a complete lack of imagination,” replies Q, failing to hold back a smile of his own.

If his smile is a bit nervous, it’s only because outside, working its way through the beautiful tropical waters of the Caribbean, there’s an oncoming tropical storm. Bond hadn’t seemed fazed by the news alerts warning it might turn into a hurricane. It’s what he’d installed all the shutters for. Q, however…well, he’ll stick with describing this as a novel experience and try not to think too much more about it.

Bond has assured him he’s perfectly safe. They have plenty of food and water, the shutters are in place, the power is off, and Bond has removed any nearby outdoor obstacles. He’d ensured all of that after helping a dozen or so other locals prepare for the oncoming bad weather, a mission which had only made the fizzing, adoring warmth in Q’s chest even more pronounced.

(It had taken everything in him not to jump Bond the minute he saw him hauling great buckets of water in a threadbare grey t-shirt earlier, his biceps bulging and a cheeky look in his eye as if he knew precisely what Q was thinking.)

Yet even for all their preparations, the trees around the house loom large and threatening in Q’s imagination. They're nature's future weapons, and completely out of his and Bond’s control. Moreover, it’s not exactly comforting knowing they’re essentially sitting over a lagoon. Q can hear the blowing gale whipping up waves in it now.

“Remind me why we didn’t just leave?” asks Q, for what must be the dozenth time.

Bond settles down next to him and pulls him close. “Because we’re safe. And because if we’d left, we’d be very far away from a private bed to distract ourselves in.”

“Oh, well, I see you’ve got your priorities straight.”

Bond huffs, amused. “Not sure I’d call them straight.”

The next half hour passes in much the same fashion: with a lot of banter, a few kisses to calm Q’s nerves, and a couple of beers to calm them further. At dusk, when the light starts fading, Bond arranges an astonishing number of battery-powered, flameless candles around the place. The resulting atmosphere is lovely, even as wind batters the roof and the water sloshes angrily outside. Light flickers off the house’s wooden beams and casts long shadows across the room. It makes every book and ornament look larger. Grander. Most lovely of all, though, is the way it dances over the golden, lined terrain of Bond’s face and warms those famous blue eyes. Watching it distracts Q for countless minutes that would have otherwise been filled with anxiety.

Bond notices, of course. The corners of his mouth curl upwards, pleased.

“Are you normally frightened of storms?” he enquires a while later, turning to Q when they’re stretched out horizontally amongst the cushions on the floor.

“No, not at home. It’s not quite the same, though, is it?”

They don’t get storms like this in London. They hardly get storms at all. If they do, it’s with a distant crack of thunder, a few almost imperceptible flashes of lightning, and maybe some heavy rain. The latter is never too far removed from the country’s usual bad weather. The last storm he remembers living through at home was relatively calming. It had provided an excellent excuse to relax in the bath, stick his nose in a book, and then curl up with the cats, who were a bit fretful at the time.

He feels a delayed pang of sympathy for them. Q hadn’t understood what there was to be scared of until now. He’s surprised the roof on this house isn’t leaking.

“Come here,” coaxes Bond.

He pulls Q into a tight embrace, tangling their legs together and moving his hands soothingly over Q’s back. As pleasant as it is, Q resists. It feels a lot like coddling.

“I’m not irrationally afraid,” he snaps. I’ve seen the statistics on hurricanes in this part of the world. If you’d like to hear the numbers—”

“Q.”

“—I can quote them for you. Or perhaps you might like to know—”

“Q.”

“—what happens in situations where supplies run out, and aid can’t get through—”

“Q.”

Bond presses his thumb against Q’s mouth. Feeling offended, Q has the mad urge to bite down on it. He tamps down on that. Bond would probably enjoy it too much.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Bond assures him.

“You’re not in control of nature, James.”

“No, I’m not, but I’ve lived through plenty worse than this. The house will be fine. We’ll be fine.”

Bond’s hand moves from Q’s mouth to his cheek. It feels broad and warm there. Slightly clammy, too. It’s a humid night, after all—a night for taking one’s clothes off, as Bond had remarked earlier.

Regardless of Q’s thoughts on the matter, Bond is evidently done talking because the kiss he draws Q into is hot and needy. Q has little choice (and no will at all) to do anything other than to submit to it, though soon he’s pressing hard at Bond’s chest to roll him over onto his back.

“There you are,” teases Bond. “That’s better.”

“Well, you’ve been gasping for a shag all day,” sighs Q, feigning being put upon. “Who am I to deny you?”

He’s not lying. This morning, before all the storm preparations, Bond had chased him into the outdoor shower and made a great show of lathering himself up. They hadn’t had time to indulge in anything more than a wash, then. Nor had they had much time in the intervening hours, which were spent either around other people, pretending like they weren’t fucking like rabbits in their ample spare time, or busily readying the house. There had been one memorable moment where, in the middle of shuttering the windows, Bond pressed Q up against the glass and whispered captivating, obscene things into his ear.

I could take you right here. You’d look beautiful in this light.

You could watch the sunset while I pressed my fingers into you.

I’d move slowly. I wonder how long it would take for your knees to buckle and for me to have to hold you up.

In the end, the oncoming storm clouds decided the matter for them. But Q, safe now and finally starting to believe in that safety, very much wants to continue with those earlier thoughts. Maybe he’ll be the one to move slowly and deeply into Bond. He’d certainly enjoyed it the last time Q turned things around.

Q, his head full of those thoughts, is leaning down for another filthy kiss when Bond’s phone pings. They turn their heads to look at it together. Lit up brightly is a weather notification telling them the storm’s category is being downgraded. Q feels the air around him clear a little.

“That’s good news,” he sighs.

“Yes,” agrees Bond, his voice low and husky. “Now, where were we?”

Leaning in again, Q whispers, “I remember perfectly well where we were.”

He takes Bond’s bottom lip briefly between his teeth and pulls, then captures Bond’s lush mouth properly in a kiss as hot and demanding as the wind outside.

All in all, Q thinks, he’s had worse times weathering a storm.

[case-of-traxits]

Angeal

For the Opinion Meme || Still accepting!

Sexuality Headcanon: Per usual, I do HC him as bisexual, with a slight leaning toward het preferences, and super romantic when he's involved with someone. But I also just imagine that he holds himself apart emotionally as much as he can so that he can focus "without distractions."

Gender Headcanon: Cis male.

A ship I have with said character: I really do love Angeal/Genesis, and I like Angeal/Sephiroth. I can see why Angeal/Genesis/Sephiroth is popular. That said, I think my favorite is probably Angeal/Zack, but I notice people don't really lean into the whole, "mentor/mentee" part of their relationship when it comes up?

I might just be unlucky when I'm looking for it, but I want angst over that. XD

I also adore the idea of Angeal and Shotgun (Freyra/Freya), since they're both from the same part of the world and his dad was a monster hunter while her family clearly hunted things (monsters?! it sounds right) for sport. I like to think that if Angeal and Genesis hadn't escaped to go to Midgar and become SOLDIERs, Freya's family would have been trying to arrange a marriage between her and Gen, and Gen was just like, "Omg, no, she and Angeal are a much better match, thanks."

A BROTP I have with said character: Mm. That's easy. Angeal+Genesis and Angeal+Sephiroth, yes please.

Now, outside of that standard set, I think that Angeal and Reeve would get on pretty great as bros (who's surprised here), and I'd love to watch Angeal+Rude. Rude could hustle him at pool a few times before Angeal realizes that he's been had.

Also, I'm firmly of the opinion that Angeal would just adopt Reno if Reno was left in his range for longer than a few minutes.

A NOTP I have with said character: I... am not a fan of Angeal/Cloud? But to be honest, I'm not a fan of Angeal, Genesis, or sane!Sephiroth with Cloud. I just can't see it.

That said, if you enjoy that, then by all means. GO FORTH AND SHIP.

A random headcanon: I like to HC that Angeal often sits in on meetings for Lazard any time that Lazard is unavailable. And that more than once, Reeve's personal assistant, Chelle, has noticed him struggling with dealing with the insanity that is the political machine of Shinra, and after the second time of watching him fumble through a meeting, she appeared at his office door with her notebook to tell him that he did great.

She knows it doesn’t feel like he did, but it was really good. And then she offers him her notes that she uses when she has to sit in for Reeve. And like. They’re mostly notes about the people in the meeting, but also notes about how to talk to them?

Palmer: Use small words. Encourage him to think of things as a business. He’s got a head for that since he still runs his family’s business.

Scarlet: Avoid direct engagements. Gently praise recent weapon tech, but be sure to imply that you expected slightly better. It keeps her focused on something other than what you’re doing. Etc.

General Opinion over said character: I like Angeal a lot. I think he makes a nice balance for the Sephiroth+Genesis dynamic, and honestly, it was really fun to see the influence he had on Zack (and by proxy, on Cloud). I love that he's a flawed individual just as much as the other Firsts are instead of being a shining paragon of perfection.

I'd offer a bonus song, but I've not actually written much with Angeal, so I just don't have any for him specifically. All of my stuff for Angeal is heavily filtered through Zack or Genesis.

[nervous-steel]

Homebrew Orc Lore (dnd, but could for any fantasy setting)

This is just an overview of the lore I wrote for orcs in my homebrew dnd setting. I tried to give all of the “core” species a twist, partly because they’re a little overdone, and partly because some of the lore is kind of problematic. Orcs are a bit of both for me, they fill a role of generic “evil savage people who worship their evil gods and kill everyone” that is very racist, so I wanted to give them a twist while keeping some core stuff the same.

Orc society is arranged into nomadic tribes that roam the dangerous parts of the world where others cannot survive. While they are often viewed as savage and uncivilised by others, they have an honour system that is fundamental to their views and their societies place a heavy emphasis on justice. Orc society believes that being a warrior is one of the greatest honours one can achieve in life, so they are all trained from childhood in combat. This combines with the fact that they live in deeply inhospitable environments to give them an almost unparalleled level of strength and durability.

While their society places a heavy emphasis on being a “true orc”, this has nothing to do with species or bloodlines, and merely if one conducts themselves with honour. This means that there are plenty of members of other species that are freely accepted into orc society, and the term for such a person translates to “an orc by honour if not by blood”. Orc honour codes state that one cannot turn down a duel without a reason (such as injury, illness, or age), but that in a duel both combatants must be given weapons, must be prepared and capable of fighting, and must be in an environment where neither person has an advantage. It also states that those in dire need should always be taken in and protected, and that if one can prove their valour in combat then they should be given hospitalities for as long as they stay.

The orc pantheon is led by Gruumsh One Eye, god of warfare, strength, and honour. It includes his husband, Votar the Hearth Keeper, god of hospitalities, the home, and health, as well as their children, including Schmiedess the Forge Maiden, Knocharn Bone Crusher, Ehrekeita Nimble Hands, and Trauecha the Echoing Mourner. Each tribe typically has at least one priest, and while every priest worships every god in the pantheon, they each have one specific god who they venerate the most and gain power from (the most common choice is Gruumsh, but there are priests of every god).

One job that orcs hold in as high a regard as warrior is weaponsmith, and while orcs do not produce many smiths those that they do are of exceptional skill. Orcs believe that well crafted weapons are almost sentient, that they should be treated with honour, and that their respect needs to be earned by their wielder. Schmiedess the Forge Maiden is the daughter of Gruumsh and Votar, and she is the orc goddess of weapons, the forge, steel, and fire. All priests of Schmiedess are also smiths, so while there are not as many of them as other gods they are highly respected. Schmiedess is aided in her craft by the five “Maids of the Forge”, powerful divine spirits that each have an associated material and represent a stage in the life of a sword. They are Steel (the raw materials of the sword), Fire (when the sword is heated and beaten into shape), Water (when the blade is quenched), Wood (when the handle of the sword is crafted and added) and Stone (when the sword is sharpened and maintained). Each of the Maids of the Forge has a “Sword Sage” who is a mortal smith of incredible skill who specialises in their stage, and who acts as their head priest. It is common for mighty orc warriors to go on a pilgrimage to seek out each of the Sword Sages and have their blade blessed by each of them.

Two other gods who are particularly venerated during battles are the twin gods Knocharn Bone Crusher and Ehrekeita Nimble Hands. Knocharn represents pure strength and animalistic fury, and she teaches those who follow her how to harness their rage in battle to ignore pain and harm and annihilate their enemies. Ehrekeita is the god of combat skill and technique, and he teaches those who follow him how to overcome enemies many times their size and strength with grace and skill. While some orc warriors follow one of the twin gods more than the other, most follow both equally, and believe that the only way to truly prevail in battle is to find a balance between them.

One god who is highly respected by all orcs, although worshipped by almost none, is Trauecha the Echoing Mourner. She is the goddess of death, memory, and the afterlife, and whenever she is depicted in art she is shown covered in bells that trail behind her. Her priests adorn their clothing in similar bells, and it is tradition to place a bell around the neck of dead orcs at a funeral. This connection means that in orc culture, the sound of a ringing bell is heavily associated with death, and bells are typically rung as a way to remember the dead during gatherings.

The Orclands is a vast desert in the far south, and it is the homeland of the orcs, however they have spread to every corner of the world. It is deeply inhospitable to life, and it was in this deadly crucible that orc society developed. Because their culture had developed to survive in such a dangerous place, it was able to thrive in similarly lethal areas across the world, where others were unable to live. While the orcs don’t have any established settlements, they often have meeting spots where they gather, and some of the most famous meeting spots almost constantly have orcs at them so they appear similar to towns, although they have no permanent residents. Although it almost never happens, at some points in the past the orcs have formed a united army to combat a sufficiently massive threat, and in these cases they are potentially the most powerful army in the world, although such an army is always dismantled immediately afterwards.

That’s the lore I wrote! If you made it this far, thanks for reading it. If you have any feedback/ideas, please message me, I’d love to talk about it! I was thinking about making new homebrewed stats for them, but I felt like the official ones work well enough with this new lore. If you have any ideas for how they could be different, please message me and I might make some new stats for them!

[teakookssi]

Before I Leave You [Eren/Levi x Reader FF]

[ curated playlist ][ full story can be found here or here ] 

➺ pairing: levi ackerman/eren jeager x fem!reader

➺ status: continuous

➺content: mafia au, crime, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, angst, lol so much angst

➺warnings: SHIT. IS. DARK. YO. violence, blood, strong language, guns/weapons, and illegal activities are all mentioned but hey, that’s attack on titan for you, so if you can handle that, you can handle this (: 

Prologue:

The heels of your dark boots grind against the dirt road as you strut your way across town. Thick fog clings in the air and the smoke of factories burning coal paints the sky an ashy grey.

Your armed cadre follow close behind, sporting guns and knives like a second skin. They are your most trusted guards, your closest confidants, and four of the seven members belonging to your inner circle.

Mikasa Ackerman, a tall female with short dark hair, killer instinct, and sharp eyes, flanks your left side. Jean Kirstein, a strong, willful young man with warm brown eyes flanks your right. Holding the rear is Connie Springer, a young man with a slim build and signature buzzcut. At his side is Sasha Braus, a fiercely driven female with big, brown eyes and long chestnut hair tied in a high ponytail.

You don’t usually walk around town baring such tight security. There’s hardly any need. Your father is Thomas Ymir. Crime boss of the Founding Sector. He owns this town. No one in their right mind would dare touch you—his only daughter and heir— unless they’ve got a death wish they want granted.

But today is different.

Today you’re carrying out a business deal. And your cadre deserve a place at that proceeding. It’s the least you can do for them, given the regrettable circumstances.

As you cross through the heart of town, the townsfolk bow their heads to you a safe distance away. Out of respect or fear, it’s all the same to you. You pay them no heed. Yet you don’t miss the way their wary eyes slide over to your cadre behind you, knowing that if they’re with you, trouble is close at hand.

Down the road, coppers patrol the streets in their forest green uniforms. They too notice your cadre at your heels, but they remain unfazed.

They greet you with a tip of their hat. “Miss Anya.”

You walk past them without sparing them so much as a second glance. They’ve learned not to expect a response from you and do well not to linger, promptly taking note of your destination and carrying on in the opposite direction to resume their daily rounds—knowing when they’re not needed and when to look the other way.

You detest the whole lot of them, but these coppers are under your father’s payroll, and it’s the only reason you tolerate their presence. Yet despite their loyalty to your father, they are not to be trusted. They still carry a police badge on their uniform and are therefore obligated to answer to Erwin Smith, the commanding officer of the Paradis Police Force. And that bloody bastard has been after your father for years. He will do anything to bring your father down, even if it means risking the lives of his own men to plant his spies into Ymir territory.

Reaching the outskirts of town a few minutes later, you approach one of the old warehouses owned by your father’s company, Ymir & Co., that stores some of his rather not-so-privy merchandise.

A handful of his men stand guard at the entrance. They nod to you in greeting as you make your way towards them and move aside to let you pass.

Inside, Historia Reiss and Armin Arlert—your blond hair, blue-eyed duo, and two of the last members of your inner circle—are waiting for you in the center of the rusty, dim lit building with the man you’ve come to strike a deal with. He sits on a crate with his hands tied behind his back and a bag over his face. So perhaps hostage is the more accurate term for him.

Nevertheless, this remains a business deal all the same.

“Historia. Armin. Thank you for keeping our guest company.” Your voice is warm and inviting as it cuts through the tension in the room, but there is an undertone of malice present and the dark glint in your eyes promise violence. “I trust you’ve shown him just how hospitable we can be?”

Historia nods and hands you a manila folder from a black suitcase she’s kept at her side, while Armin removes the bag and reveals to you the battered face of the bastard who dared defy your father: Bertholdt Hoover. Crime boss of the Colossal Sector, and the man responsible for the death of one of your men, Marco Bodt.

Your composed demeanor does not change at the sight of him, but you sense your cadre’s knowing gaze on you, watching you with heed. Only they can see how much your eyes are burning with rage, unable to stand the fact that this traitorous bastard was still breathing when Marco was not.

As they all fan out behind you to surround Bertholdt, you notice Jean’s tense posture beside you, struggling to restrain himself.

Marco was an important asset to your inner circle. His loss was felt strongly amongst everyone. But Jean had always held a special bond with him, and if you were to glance over at him now, you would see the frustration and pain twisted on his face at his inability to avenge his fallen comrade despite having the man responsible for his friend’s death sitting right before him.

For that reason you refuse to look in his direction. Your eyes remain focused on Bertholdt, who stares back up at you with vacant brown eyes as he awaits your verdict, a look of resignation already sprawled across his bloody face.

He knows what your arrival means for him, but he has yet to realize that you are far from finished with him.

You let the manila folder Historia handed you fall carelessly out of your hand in front of him, causing the papers inside to scatter on the floor at his feet. Bertholdt stares down at them with a blank expression.

“I’ve had our lawyer draw up these papers,” you inform the traitor in that dangerously calm tone of yours, masking the burning rage boiling inside you with ease. “Every enterprise in your possession— bars, restaurants, warehouses, establishments you own—you will sign over to my family.” Blood drips from a nasty cut on his forehead and you reach out to wipe it away, letting his blood stain your fingers red. “Or you’re gonna die right here.”

Bertholdt turns his face away from you, refusing to be touched by your hands, but this only encourages you further. You cock your head to the side, curious to see how much more humiliation he’s willing to take under your control before he finally gives.

Or before you lose interest—whichever comes first.

“I would have buried you ten feet underground,” you admit with chilly nonchalance. “You and your whole bloody clan—if my father had not stopped me.” Your eyes get drawn to his ruffled dark hair and you begin fixing it to a more reputable fashion with your blood stained fingers, like a mother tending to her unkempt child. “He says it will be worse for you if I let you live. If we take everything you have.”

You can see him clench his teeth as he swallows down the threat, but Berthold refuses to play along with you.

You give him an annoyed frown. “You are beginning to lose my interest,” you warn him sharply as you slip out a dagger from your sleeve, revealing a small glimpse of the centipede—the symbol of house Ymir—tattooed on your wrist. “And that is a very dangerous thing.”

In one swift movement you circle behind him and cut his hands free from the rope tying his hands together behind his back. He winces as his shoulders involuntarily come forward, feeling the release in tension from his muscles after being held in the same position for so long.

You reach into your coat and offer him a pen.

“Sign.”

You then let it drop on the floor in front of him.

“On your knees.”

Bertholdt glances down at the papers at his feet with clenched teeth. When he glares up at you, you’re surprised to find some fight still left in him. Mikasa notices too. His hands ball into fists, as if getting ready to strike, but the second he looks to your cadre, you pull your gun on him and shoot his left knee.

Your voice is cold and low, the playfulness in your eyes gone. “I said,‘kneel’.”

He lets out a scream and unwillingly falls to the floor, a puddle of blood quickly beginning to form near his leg and trickle down to the documents on the floor.

You point your gun to his other leg and pull down the lever, ready to pull the trigger. “Sign before I take away your ability to walk forever,” you hiss at him viciously.

He whimpers and shakes his head for you not to shoot, eagerly reaching for the pen with trembling fingers.

“Treacherous piece of filth,” you mutter with disdain as you watch him struggle to sign every last document amidst labored breaths.

Historia collects them once he’s finished and double checks everything is in order before handing the blood-covered papers over for Armin to sign—House Ymir’s new chosen crime boss of Bertholdt’s territory and his now officially legal replacement.

“The Colossal Sector is now under our jurisdiction,” you announce to everyone in the room as you stand watching over Bertholdt’s withering body with a bored expression on your face, a hand casually tucked in the pocket of your trousers. “By order of house Ymir.”

Your other hand twirls your gun on your finger absentmindedly as Jean and Connie roughly yank Bertholdt to his feet, positioning him directly in front of you. He cries out in pain as he’s forced to stand on his leg. You lift his chin up with the tip of your gun to force him to meet your piercing gaze.

You lean in close and your lip curls in disgust. He reeks of sweat and blood. ”You should have known better than to risk betraying this house.” You press your gun deeper into his face, pushing his head back. “To touch any of my men.”

You step back to let Jean and Connie drag him away.

“Go run to Reiner and Annie,” you tease behind him, taking a quick glimpse down at his injured knee and knowing full well he won’t be doing that—let alone, much walking—anytime soon. “Tell them what’s happened here, and tell them, if they don’t adhere to the deal they made with my father, we’re coming for them next.”

You raise your gun to point to the back of his head as Jean and Connie lead him out the door.

Mikasa tenses beside you and takes a step towards you, as if to stop you.

“Anya,” Armin warns behind you. The fact you’re so unpredictable has both of them believing your need for vengeance would let you disregard your father’s orders. But they needn’t worry. You may be a wild and vicious thing, but despite your crooked ways, you have principle.

And family and loyalty are the two things you honor and value most above all else.

Your father needs Bertholdt alive to send a message to the rest of his enemies. To remind them of what will happen if they attempt to double cross him. In your anger for Marco’s death, you’d argued his death served message enough, but your father was a businessman, and things needed to be done accordingly.

“If I let you kill him,” he had said to you, “a cycle of vengeance will follow and we will have gained nothing. You must practice patience and learn when to let go of your pride. By taking everything Bertholdt’s father spent years to built and forcing him to walk back to his men, alive and well… to make him have to tell them himself that he willingly signed it all away, and that they no longer have any right to any business in that territory—his pride will be more than wounded. The shame and disappointment he will have brought to his family name—” You father had given you a knowing look. “Well, I’m sure you can imagine how deep that wound will lie…what that will do to him mentally.”

He had pulled you in to a tender embrace when he saw the face you’d made at the thought of it, and began to caress your hair in comfort as you rested your head against his chest. “You can torture him. Prolong his death for as long as you want before you decide to finish him off. But you will only be doing him a kindness. In death, you spare him from pain, from grief, from feeling anything at all and—”

Realization began to dawn in your eyes as you met his gaze. “Mercy is only given to those who deserve it.”

He smiled down at you, pleased to hear you recite one of his mantras. “We are but reasonable people, after all. If the Colossal Sector has wronged us, it is only fair we return the favor.”

So you stand in the warehouse watching Bertholdt walk away with his life, knowing that he is merely a puppet in this great game of power and crime. There are more hands at play pulling the strings. But no matter who the enemy is or how many, they will all suffer the same fate.

Unlike them, you have learned the rules of the game. You know how this goes.

You will stand by your father’s side and watch as every last one of your enemies meet their own ruin—a downfall you will have carefully orchestrated. And in their misery, they will think only of you. Of the one who put them there.

“This is how you destroy them,” your father had said. “How you make them regret having ever wronged you.”

“Yes…” you’d agreed out loud, his words still echoing in your head long after he left. And you were coming for them all.

With your gun still raised in position, you close your left eye, as if to take a more accurate shot at Bertholdt from your distance. You imagine pulling the trigger.

“Bang.”  

[space-mermaid-writing]

The witchling and the god [Loki x Witch!Reader] Chapter 9

Summary: The Avengers were looking for someone to help Loki fit in with the team. To become socially acceptable, so to speak. He had been given the choice of sitting in a cell in Asgard or serving some sort of community service probation on Midgard. The Avengers and Shield both felt that as long as Loki was on Earth, he should be under supervision. This is now your job. Why? Because you’re a witch. You’re not sure why this qualifies you, but here you are, giving it a shot. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags: Witch!Reader, Magic, Witches, slow burn, everybody lives in the tower, character development, Loki‘s redemption, Stephen Strange is a friend, Loki and Stephen are frenemies, Tony Stark is a good bro, kids love Loki, Tony has stupid nicknames for everybody, eventual smut

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read it on AO3 | Previous | Next

Chapter's Note: I’ve said it before and put it in the tags: Stephen Strange is part of this story, because I love the dynamic between him and Loki. Comedic gold. Perfect frenemies. Beta by @zaria-04 <3

Chapter 9: Undercover Mission

Stephen Strange answers quicker than expected. Only three days after you texted him. You don't complain about it and arrange a meeting for the next morning in the lab.

Tony is present and so is Loki. He seems to be interested in the mystery of the magical artifact. Since you don't know what to do with him anyway after your last conversation, you think it's a good idea to keep him busy with this project. It takes his focus away from nonsense he might otherwise get up to. And it also allows you to spend more time with him.

Stephen steps through his signature orange-glowing portal. You greet him with a hug, Tony shakes his hand. You heard that the two have worked together a few times before. Stephen's gaze lingers on the Asgardian, who looks back with folded arms and a scowl.

"Loki."

"Stephen."

You see the sorcerer's features darken minimally as he is addressed by his first name without any titles. But it's his own fault, he did the same to the prince.

It will be interesting to have Tony, Stephen and Loki in the same room together, you think. It's a wonder it didn't collapse right under all the ego gathered in this small space.

Tony clears his throat, breaking the silence. "Well, Doctor Weird? I believe Sabrina here has already told you what this meeting is about?"

Strange closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. This is going to be a long day.

He glances briefly at you, but you merely shrug with a mocking grin. You're already used to dealing with these men, and you wouldn't be any help to him in that regard.

Strange conjures a book out of thin air and opens it. "The artifact you found is one of three parts. When you put them together you get a sword known as 'Bloodweeper'. A runed blade of hellish torment."

He levitates the book in the air so that you can see the drawing on the page.

The illustration of the grip matches the artifact on Tony's table. The second piece of the hilt seems to be some sort of gem that sets as the pommel, and the third part is a piece that appears to be a three-quarter circle of metal attached to the guard. There is no blade in the illustration.

"That's a quite concerning name," you mutter.

"Rightly so. It is said that wounds inflicted with this weapon cannot be closed by normal means, not even magic," Strange explains. "The sword was split into three parts and scattered far apart so it can't be wielded. Unfortunately, the parts want to be put back together and pull to each other. There have even been cases where the owners of individual parts have been downright obsessed with it."

The book floats onto the table next to the sword’s hilt. Loki steps up to the book, to flip through the pages. But it disappears before his fingers can touch it. He casts an evil glance at Stephen, who holds the book back in his hands.

"You should be careful when handling old books. They’re easy to damage."

A second Loki takes the book from his hand as he walks past him. "Thanks for the advice, but I have about a thousand years more experience than you do."

"Behave, boys," you warn the two, each of them looking at you like they want to tell you that the other one has started it. You feel like a kindergarten teacher.

The sorcerer keeps his eyes on Loki, but his attention is drawn by Tony's next words.

"During the raid on the Hydra base, they found documents on where the second part of it is believed to be. Shield is still working out the details, but they are definitely trying to get all of the pieces together."

You let this information sink in. "I guess we all agree that we should collect it before they do, right?" you finally say. “This artifact is too dangerous to leave in the hands of people who don't know how to handle it. Or worse, people who know exactly how to handle it."

"Once we know more, we can make a plan," Tony agrees.

"It says here that the parts can also be used individually," Loki reads from the book. "They all have different powers. The hilt you found gives physical strength."

"That checks out with what I felt," you confirm, thinking back to when you examined the piece. You step next to the Asgardian to read along. As you do, you notice that the book is written in Latin. "Ugh, it's been a while since I've had to read that language. Nobody uses Latin for spell books anymore ."

"One part is a gemstone that amplifies raw powers." Loki points to the drawing, for which you need no translation. You're a little jealous of his all-speak. His finger moves to the third piece. "And this one absorbs magic. It's not clear if it's from the user or the victim." He looks questioningly at Strange, whose gaze lies on both of you.

"That's what makes it so dangerous. The sword hasn't been put together in centuries. And it's better left that way."

"Got it: no touching, no assembling," Tony summarized. He would still do his scans, because when did anyone have the opportunity to examine a runed blade of hellish torment?

"Very well. Meanwhile, I'll look for new places to store them. We'll have to scatter the pieces far, so we'll have peace from them for the next few decades," Strange replies. With a small gesture the hilt disappears from the table as well as the book from Loki’s hands. The Asgardian purses his lips, but does not comment.

"Keep me informed."

He says these last words mostly to you, and you nod. But before he can use his sling ring, however, you speak up again.

"Wait, I'm coming with you. I want to visit the Sanctum library."

Stephen nods and motions for you to join him.

You cast a quick glance at Loki, almost apologetic for leaving him alone with Tony. But he is busy scowling at the Sorcerer Supreme. Before following him through the circular portal, you give the other two a quick wave goodbye.

"What exactly are you looking for in the library?" Stephen asks you as you two walk through the cool hallways of the Sanctum Sanctorum.

You've been here a few times before, yet each time you feel like the halls are a maze. You wonder if this is a protection spell or you really just have a bad sense of direction.

"Oh, I just wanted to brush up on my knowledge of some rituals. And see if there's a book on Seiðr."

You believe that learning more about Loki's magic will help you understand him better. You've broached the subject with him a few times, but while he's willing to demonstrate his magic to you, he still reveals little about its origins. You don't know if it's because he doesn't trust you enough. Maybe he thinks you will use the knowledge against him. That is not your intention. You are simply curious. And magic always tells something about the nature of the user.

There are so many different kinds of magic, so many different sources to draw from. A spell is like a work of art and magic is the drawing medium. Some use oil paints, others acrylic, others prefer watercolor or charcoal. Even if the subject of the painting is the same, the end result is a little different for each medium.

"You've got Loki quite under control." It's a simple statement from Stephen. Of course, he's guessed the right reason why you're looking for the book.

You two enter the library, which has quite an impressive size. The room is enchanted, so it is larger on the inside than it appears from the hallway. Still, the truly rare books are not to be found here, but only in Kamar-Taj.

You snort softly at his words. "He's not a wild animal to be tamed."

"Your opinion," Stephen shrugs and follows you as you head for the rows of shelves. "Anyway, it's nice to see you're enjoying the work there. You'll have to tell me about it sometime."

You chuckle. "I'd love to tell you about it, but do you know how hard it is to actually call you when you’re off-world? I had to bait you with this rare artifact to hear anything from you at all."

It's a little side blow, not meant to be taken seriously. You know how busy Stephen is and that his work is important. So you don't hold it against him that he doesn’t always have the time for your talks about magic theory. After all, that's actually what your conversations are mostly about.

"But you're right," you add. "It's about time I got to socialize again. I should probably thank you for that."

"How about thanking me over dinner and wine?"

You pause for a moment. But what's dinner among friends? "I'd love to, we haven't done that in a while," you therefore reply.

You find the two books on rituals you've been looking for. As you hold the second one in your hands, Stephen flicks his fingers and a third book, all leather bound, floats to you.

"This will help you with the Seiðr. It's written in Allspeak. A gift from Asgard many centuries ago," he explains.

Your eyes light up as you look at it. "Perfect, thank you!"

"Remember to bring them back or Wong will draw fees. And they are unbelievably expensive.“ His voice is played sternly and you chuckle.

"I wouldn't dare to, Doctor Librarian." Laughing, you say goodbye and Stephen opens a portal directly to your cottage, where you immediately set to reading.

~~

It doesn't take too long for the data from the raid to be analyzed. Hydra has done a good job in advance. According to their information, the second part of the sword - the gem in the pommel - is in Los Angeles.

Tony opened the photo of a woman on one of his big screens.

"Rose Petal?" you read the big letters of her name incredulously. "Are you serious? That belongs in the top ten of worst fake names."

But somehow the face matches the name: blonde hair, contoured eyebrow and at least one job on her nose. There's something about her face you don't like. She looks cute, but also catty. Like a best friend who talks trash behind your back or steals your boyfriend away while pretending everything is fine.

Every rose has thorns.

Tony ignores your comment and continues with the presentation. Joining you are Loki and Natasha.

"She owns several building complexes in LA, including 'Club Enchant'. Based on that name, that she bought the artifact at a black market auction and various rumors surrounding her person, it stands to reason that she is a witch. Can you confirm that?" He asks the last question to you.

You raise two fingers. "First, not without having met her, but it sounds like it. She seems to have the power to use her part of the artifact. Second, she doesn't have to be a witch, she can be magically gifted in other ways. Like Loki or Strange."

Tony nods in understanding. "Fine, a magically gifted being not specifically defined. Either way, we should try to take the artifact without her noticing."

You glance at Natasha. From what you've heard, she's the best one for a secret undercover mission. Quick and quiet. As you look back to Tony, you notice his gaze is on you.

"It would be good to have an expert on the mission."

You hesitate at what he implies. You're not a fighter. So far, you've survived this long because you've stayed out of anything dangerous. Keeping a low profile. Breaking into another witch's house - if Rose is one - would be very dangerous. She would be pissed about it. And she might be able to curse you.

Before you can make a decision, you suddenly hear Loki's voice in the silence. "I'll go, too."

All heads turn to him. Although he is present in all meetings surrounding the artifact, he rarely says anything and stays silently in the background. It's impressive how quiet he can be, since he likes to talk a lot when the two of you are alone.

You've noticed that he's not comfortable among the other residents of the tower - Thor aside - keeping his guard up constantly, though you keep throwing him reassuring smiles whenever your eyes meet. His words come as a surprise even to you.

His eyes search you and he nods at you almost imperceptibly, as if to reassure you. He will protect you. The gesture warms your heart and you return it with a hint of a smile. Satisfied, he takes notice.

Tony frowns. His suspicions are raised, he is not used to the Asgardian volunteering help for anything. There may be a plan behind it on his part and he wonders if Loki is up to something.

"I don't know if this is a good idea. We don't want any other deaths."

It's a low blow and you glare at him for it. Loki has put his cool mask back on, but you'd be surprised if he's not hurt underneath it.

"Loki is ideal for this mission," you interject. "He knows how to go unnoticed and he knows magic. We don't know how strong the witch is and I'm not sure I can take her on alone."

Tony tilts his head thoughtfully. "All right, but no funny business," he warns the Asgardian, who merely nods.

With that, it's settled.

The plan you're coming up with is quite simple in structure: Natasha, Loki and you will show up at the club as guests. Nat checks the situation in advance and will keep an eye on the surroundings. She will make sure you have free access to everything.

Loki and you will arrive a little later and mingle with the VIP guests. The goal is to get the attention of the club owner and witch. Loki will distract her while you secretly enter her witch cellar - that's what you call it because her office is in the basement according to the plans Tony got from Shield - and look for the second piece of the artifact. Since you know the signature of it, this shouldn't be too hard.

Clint will accompany the three of you and keep an eye on the situation outside the club, providing a safe retreat if necessary.

Everyone knows what they have to do. You don't like that you have to go into the witch's cellar alone, but you trust the others to look after you. Just as they trust you to find and get the artifact in the shortest possible time.

You want to implement your plan as quickly as possible, since you don’t know if Hydra will be on the move too. Of course beforehand there are several preparations to be made. You stick to Natasha for this. She knows it best and gives you a crash course for the undercover part.

By the next morning the four of you are in the jet to Los Angeles.

Truth to be told, you are not a fan of heights of any kind. It's fine while staying in an enclosed space like an airplane, but the speed of the jet is quite unsettling. Natasha is the pilot and you trust her, at least that's what you silently tell yourself.

Loki, Clint and you have made yourselves comfortable on the benches in the back. At least the men are comfortable. You sit with your back straight, staring at some point of the opposite wall.

Clint's gaze falls on you. "You look pale," he notices with a mixture of sympathy and amusement.

"I'm alright. Just not used to this kind of traveling," you reply defensively, hoping he would let it slide.

"Let me know if you need a bucket."

"It's not that bad. Yet."

The corners of Clint's mouth twitch, but he decides to leave you alone. He knows it’s your first time doing something remotely like this. Nat and he are used to this life, but you're almost a civilian, at least you have no field experience, not even training in it. His gaze continues to wander to Loki, but the Asgardian looks as indifferent as ever. Clint prefers this to hostility.

Except for a few final words over your plan, you don’t talk a lot to each other. You feel like throwing up whenever you open your mouth, Loki doesn't talk in this company anyway, and Natasha and Clint seem to have their own way of communicating. A mixture of glances, few words and sign language.

You've noticed that the two SHIELD Agents and Avengers are surprisingly sincere to Loki. While they don't hug him in glee, they are professionally polite. There are no hidden hostile looks or comments. You heard that both of the agents had their own experience with mind control. Clint ironically by Loki, but he doesn't seem to hold it against him anymore. For this mission, you are a team and it is important that everyone acts like it.

After a few hours, you arrive at the west coast. Split into two cars, you drive to the hotel, where you and Loki check in under false names. You have no more than hand luggage and take the elevator up to your floor, where you have two separate rooms.

"See you later, Witchling," Loki says goodbye as you part.

Your hotel room is spacious, bright and modernly furnished. You put your bag down and fall backwards onto the bed. After the flight, you've earned a break. You have a few hours before you meet up with Loki to go to the club, and you decide to relax a bit. The mattress hugs you and promises you a restful night. Too bad that – if you leave the club successfully and with the piece of the artifact – you will hop right back on the plane. It promises to be a very long day.

Before you accidentally doze off, you get up and take a shower. It's much warmer in Los Angeles than in New York and you feel the need to wash off the sweat and the stress from the flight. Then you order a late lunch in your room. You don't feel like watching TV, so you eat while looking at the view out the window. The hotel is one of the several tall buildings in the district; you see the gray of roofs and exterior facades. It reminds you why you prefer the countryside. At least it seems less hectic here than in New York.

At some point, it's time for you to change clothes. Unfortunately, there is no cool super suit for you, just a club outfit: a short, figure-hugging dress that leaves little to the imagination. You magically modified it so that it doesn't slip when you move around, revealing more than you'd like. You have no idea how normal women wear something like this without exposing various body parts.

You chose it together with Natasha from a selection. In the end the color convinced you: it shimmers in a beautiful emerald green and you are curious to see how Loki will react to it.

From your travel bag you pull several rings, which you slip on. Each one has a spell stored in it, in case you get into a fight. You hope you won’t need them, but one can never be too careful.

While you're tending to your makeup, there's a knock at the door. When you open it, Natasha is standing in front of it. She's already changed as well, wearing leathery, skin-tight pants and probably the shortest crop top ever existing. Over it a cropped fur jacket, which somehow misses the point of a jacket, but looks very stylish.

You let her in and close the door behind her.

"I love your jacket. You'll have to let me borrow it sometime."

"If it survives the night, I will. Let me take a look at you." She eyes you and nods, pleased with what she sees. As a finishing touch, she hands you a wig and helps you put it on. You take a look in the mirror and barely recognize yourself, no longer even feeling like yourself. But it helps you slip into your role: rich and looking for fun.

"Ready?", Natasha asks you.

"As ready as I can be." You'll stick with the plan, trusting the team, even if a queasy feeling remains. You've never done anything like this before. It's exciting, but also unsettling.

"We'll look out for you," the former assassin promises.

It's reassuring hearing it and you smile gratefully at her. "Thanks, I really appreciate that you said that. I'll try to look out for you too."

"That's the spirit." She gives you an encouraging pat on the back. "Alright, I gotta go clubbing. See you later." With that, she leaves, starting phase one of the plan.

You have another half hour and consider snacking on the rest of your lunch, but you've lost your appetite. Nervousness of expectation clogs your stomach. You twirl your rings on your fingers. It will be fine, you tell yourself. You know how to survive.

You can't hold back a sigh as you sit down on your bed and put on your boots. They're high, almost daring. You like them just fine – and again magic helped you to make them utterly comfortable. Then you pull out one last piece of jewelry: a bracelet in the shape of a golden snake that coils several times around your upper arm. It's the newest piece in your collection and no less magical than the rest of your jewelry.

Then it's time to meet Loki. You grab your jacket, which you casually throw over your shoulder, and leave your room. The Asgardian is also sharp on time, just stepping out the door as you walk in his direction. He hears the click of your heels and looks up. He stops in his tracks, his eyes widen slightly as he sees your outfit, then darken as he realizes the color of your choice.

Grinning confidently, you spin once around yourself while you walk, as if to show yourself off. You wink, before stopping right in front of him.

"My colors look good on you, pet." His voice is thick, not as smooth as usual. Almost husky. He hasn't used that nickname in ages. Just now it seems fitting.

Your grin widens a bit. Men are simple-minded. "You, on the other hand, could have made more of an effort," you reply. It's not meant seriously and Loki knows it, remembering his own words the last time you went out together.

He himself looks – as always – forbiddingly good. He chose all black today, but reconsiders just now. Under your gaze his black jacket turns into a green velvet blazer with a black lapel collar.

"Shall we?" he asks with a gesture toward the elevator as if he hadn’t just changed his outfit to match yours.

You nod and start walking. Loki stays by your side, putting his hand on the small of your back to guide you, or maybe just to be closer to you. It gives you a sense of security and you are ready for whatever may come.

_____________________________

Tag List: @lokisgoodgirl @lokixryss @itsybitchylittlewitchy @yokshi-unbeliebubble @fictional-hooman @elennair @all-envy-suyu @purplekitten30 @elisadmaggiore @nothing2113 @baebeepeach @ceo-of-stfu @moonlightreader649 @ronipiamka @fluffybunnyu @ninjarose23 @ozymdias @huntress-artemiss @thedistractedagglomeration @rosaline-black @sofi786 @moonlightreader649 @paetonnn @eldriidd @r4inlov3r

Tell me if you wanna be added/removed or if I forgot someone

[melancholyshadow]

princess || druig

part two

summary: druig saved your father’s life years ago, and since then him and the rest of the eternals have become celebrities around the kingdom. they often dropped in for visits when they weren't busy killing deviants. 

warning: mentions of arranged marriage, cannon-level violence, mention of a dead body, 18+, female masturbation, mentions of sex, peeping-tom druig. MINORS DNI

pairing: princess!female!reader x druig 

an: im literally so excited for this two-parter! i’ve been obsessed with this concept for like two weeks now. so i hope you enjoy, the second part will be out next week sometime! 

part two: coming soon

One morning, at dawn, a woman’s scream filled the morning air,  running around the town yelling about a dead body in the treeline of the forests that wrapped around the kingdom. Your father, along with a few of his battle buddies, were quick to investigate the scene. The man they found was barely recognizable, completely torn apart and in shreds. The attack seemed like nothing from this earth, past animalistic and too brutal to be human. Muscle, bone, all of it visible.The only way they were able to determine his connection to your people was a small emblem on his belt, which was completely mangled. 

To put the town at ease, your fathers and those same soldiers decided to head out one night, as it seemed to be when the attack took place. The night was darker than normal, the light of the moon was being filtered out by the thick trees. Even in the dead of winter, with no leaves, it seemed the moonlight wasn’t reaching the forest floor. The only sound that could be heard was the crunching of snow beneath their feet. And the faint sound of a coyote howl. Everything in their bodies telling them to turn back now. But they pressed on...foolishly. 

“Hold…” Your father demanded, lowering his voice into almost a whisper. He heard rustling deeper in the forest. It was coming from in front of them. No, behind them. Wait, to their left, maybe they're right. He couldn’t determine if there was one of them, or ten. He had just led himself and his best men into a trap they were never going to get out of. Especially not alive. 

 “What on God’s green Earth…” That’s when one of them came into their view. It was nothing like they had ever seen. Definitely not like any animal they had come across. The first thing they noticed were it’s glowing yellow eyes, they were almost hypnotizing. It walked around them slowly, sizing them up like a predator does to their prey, emitting a low growl. Its skin was a deep blue color, a shade of blue they had never seen before. Tentacle-like appendages hovered around the creature, waving in the light wind. Its veins and muscle, or that’s what he assumed it to be, were exposed, a bright pink color. 

“There’s more!” One of them yelled, the rustling becoming even louder. “Keep your eyes on them!!” Your father exclaimed, their group of six standing in a tight circle. They watched as two more appeared, just as gruesome as the first ones. That’s when the wind seemed to pick up, and a loud whirring sound drowned out their growing growls. The noise was coming from above, so they all glanced upward and couldn’t believe what they saw. 

It was a flying ship! Shaped like a triangle? What on Earth was going on? First hell-spawns and now a floating spacecraft. They watched in awe, as a small opening formed on the bottom of the ship, and a human-like being seemed to float downwards. As it got closer, they could make out a figure, it was a woman. A beautiful woman, almost angelic. They noticed she was decorated with a glowing shield and spear. 

As her feet hit the snow, unfazed by the now snarling beasts, she let out a sign, and spoke.“Unfortunately, you were correct, I believe I’ll need a little help.” Her tone was reluctant. Shortly, nine more figures appeared. “Who the hell are you?” Your father threatened, now pointing his weapons at these outsiders. “We’re here to save you, clearly.” Scoffed the smallest one. Your father pressed his sword forward, brain still buffering from all this exciting information. 

Suddenly, your father’s head went foggy, and a voice echoed through his mind. “I’d put that sword down if I were you.” Who was speaking to him? And how was he in your head? Your father attempted to step forward, but his body didn’t comply. “Don’t make me have to do anything drastic.” His body suddenly felt heavy, slumping against the back of one of his fellow soldiers. This is when everything around him shifted, things shifting into slow motion.The beings created a larger circle, keeping their backs to your father and his men. 

“Protect them at all costs.” Said another woman, she was dressed in gold and blue, her helmet adorned with a horn-like structure. Your father watched in awe, as they slayed these beasts by barely lifting a finger. Three of the beasts had been slayed, their corpses decorating the forest floor. Then, quite suddenly, your father’s world flipped upside-down, literally. The creature had wrapped one of his tendrils around your father’s ankle, suspending him fifty feet in the air. 

In the moment, he accepted his fate. But, these god-like beings had other plans. “Phantos…” One of them exclaimed as he ran at the beast, a sword appeared in his hands. There was a large crunching noise, followed by a wet ‘splat.’ Whatever substance was their equivalent of blood had splattered all over the snow, covering your father. As the being died, it released your father and he began his fall. But was quickly caught by a woman, one with inhumane speed. 

That night your father was grateful to be alive, and even more grateful for these people. These people who he had seen as enemies, people he could never understand, even if he had tried. He insisted they come to the castle and celebrate their successes. They were all hesitant at first, but obliged quickly. And celebrate they did, for three days. 

Tonight, your father’s story victim was with your soon-to-be husband. He was the prince of a neighboring town, the two across a large lake to the north.The two of you hadn’t created this relationship organically, instead it was an agreement made between both of your fathers. You would be married this summer, whether the two of you liked it or not. 

Even after a year and a half of him courting you, there was absolutely no chemistry, and it wasn’t because you didn’t try. You really did, for a long time, but you just couldn’t come around to the idea of being forced into a marriage. And you knew he felt the same way, after about a year into this, he confessed this to you. And he was happy to know the feeling was mutual. Terrified he would have been breaking your heart. 

The two of you had created at least a semblance of a friendship, it made the whole ordeal a little less miserable. He was an amazing man, but just simply not your type. The opposite of your type honestly. And it didn’t help that you had eyes for another man, one that was simply out of your league. There was a slim to none chance you two would ever be together, especially now. Actually, there wasn’t even a slim chance, just no chance. His name is Druig, and he’s an Eternal. Basically a god. The one who saved your father that night. And you might have had a small crush on him, like many of the other girls in the township. 

By the time dinner was over, you were ready to go to bed. Not to sleep, but to just get some time alone. Something you rarely got when your fiancé was here, he followed you around like a lost puppy. Which you didn’t blame him for, you were the only person he knew, besides your parents, and he was glued to your hip. Tonight was his last night, his father would be here in the morning to retrieve him. You felt guilty to admit it, but you were quite relieved. 

After some quick goodbyes, you were able to shut yourself away in your chambers. After lighting a few candles to illuminate your bedroom, you immediately changed out of your tight-fitting gown. Every morning, your mother saw to the fact that you were always dressed elegantly. Thinking you still needed to catch the eye of your husband, as if either of you had a choice. But she insisted that would change once you were eloped. 

Happily, you slipped into one of your thin, silk nightgowns, everything inside you breathing a breath of fresh air. Collapsing on your bed, you let your eyes fall closed. Your body was tired, begging for sleep. But your brain had something else in mind. It wasn’t until this moment, did you feel the small ache between your legs. You contemplated your next actions for a few moments, you desperately just wanted to sleep, but this scratch needed to be itched. Or it would bother you. All night. 

Of course, you and your fiancé weren't sleeping together, for obvious reasons, so you had to deal with these things on your own. And for a while, rubbing your thighs together seemed to work, but it only made the ache grow stronger. Slowly, the tips of your fingers slid across the skin of your legs, feeling the sudden appearance of goosebumps. Finally, using both of your index fingers, you hooked them around the fabric of your panties, pulling them down the length of your legs. The cool air rushing  against your warm cunt, making a small moan slip past your lips. 

A yawn passed Druig’s lips, as the Domo slowly came to a stop. It hovered for a moment, before landing in a clearing. Something made specifically for their ship, King (Y/L/N) had done this for them, making their arrivals easier. The sun had just finished setting, the only light coming from the torch-lit path leading towards the castle. The walk was silent, the only noise coming from the leaves crunching beneath their feet. They were all absolutely exhausted, not surprisingly, when you killed deviants for a living. 

King (Y/L/N) was the first to greet them at the castle doors, “My friends!” He exclaimed. They spent a few minutes catching up, declining multiple offers of food, their bodies just wanting to sleep. Druig was quick to slip away, desperately wanting to find you before you fell asleep for the night. He had memorized the location of your chambers by now. 

As he turned down the hallway where your room was located, he heard a noise. It was much too far away for him to know what it was, but as he walked closer to your room it got louder. Finally, once he was only a couple feet away from your door, he pinpointed it. It was the softest of moans…coming from your room. 

It felt wrong to peering in on you, when you were doing something so private. But the darker part of his pressed on, glancing in through the crack on your door. At first, he wasn’t sure what he laid his eyes on, as it was so dark in the room. But when he finally did make out what was happening, it took everything in him not to let out a groan. 

He watched, in awe, as you pushed your index inside your leaking cunt. The candles reflected off your slick, making you look angelic. The small whines leaving your lips were high pitched, sounding just as beautiful as you looked. His eyes followed your other hand, the one that massaged one of your full breasts. Rubbing the nipple between your index finger and thumb, he loved how responsive you were to touch. Wondering if it would be the same way for him. 

The next thing he heard made his heart leap out from his chest. At first, he insisted he had heard you wrong, he must have. But after the third time hearing you repeat yourself it had to be. “Druig…” The way his name fell past your lips seemed so normal. Like you had done this before, many times. He suddenly had to prop himself up on your doorframe, his knees feeling weak all of a sudden. 

That’s not all, he felt a stir in his own trousers. The fabric of his pants only got tighter the longer he watched you. Your finger pace quickened, accompanied by your back arching off your mattress. God, he wished that was his hand between your legs, he hadn’t noticed his own hand wandering down to his clothed cock. 

“Dru…” Another moan passing your lips. In that moment, all he wanted was to see what was going on in that beautiful mind of yours. It only felt right, especially since he seemed to be involved. He desperately wanted to see the sinful acts the two of you were partaking in. No one would have to know, not even you. 

All he saw was skin against skin, your high-pitched moans made his head foggy. The room reeked with the smell of sex, but he wasn’t complaining. Then, his head between your thighs, he thought he could almost taste you on his tongue. God, how he wished to know if you tasted as sweet as you acted. Your fingers gripped his hair at the root, pulling him desperately closer to your cunt. You spoke only pleads for more, making the ache in his cock only grow. 

Your index finger appeared and disappeared between your folds quicker than before, and the thumb on your other hand that was now rubbing small circles into your clit less steadily. “Fuck…” Him hearing you say that, instantly made him want to reprimand you. He dreamt about bending you over his knees, softly massaging your perfectly round cheeks, before smacking them hard, adorning them with red handprints. 

Finally both of your hands stilled, your chest rising and falling in quick succession as you hit your orgasm. Your legs pressed together, locking your hands between your thighs. He could hear your breath, it was labored and an occasional whine passed your lips. He imagined your cunt clenching around nothing, wishing it was his cock. Imagining you desperate to be filled again, begging him to fuck you over and over again. 

Druig watched as you laid still for a moment, taking in your beautiful figure. He wished to see it up close, to run his hands over your goddess-like figure. You sat up slowly, stretching out your previously tended body. He shifted his weight back onto his feet, causing the floorboards beneath him to squeak. 

His heart dropped when your head flew in his direction, luckily, you couldn’t see much between the lack of light and the smallness of the crack in the door. “Hello?” You called out, quickly using a pillow to cover yourself. Druig didn’t dare speak, instead backed away from the door as quickly and quietly as possible. 

Just as he rounded the corner, he heard your bedroom door open, and you stepped out into the hallway. “Hello?” You asked again. His heartbeat quickened, and he made a split second decision. Slowly, he stepped back out into view, his eyes landing on you. “(Y/N), my dear…” He said softly, a small smile growing on his face. 

“Druig!” Your tone instantly changed when you saw him. Quickly, you closed the gap between the two of you, bringing him in for a long hug. Your arms wrapping around his neck, his arms hugging your waist. “How are you?” You asked quickly, the excitement evident in your demeanor. “I’m much better now.” He chuckled. 

That’s when a silence fell over you, that look of concern appearing back on your face. He decided to play it cool, “What’s wrong, princess?”He asked, fake concern plaguing his voice. “I swear I heard someone outside my door a few minutes ago, was it you?” You began biting at your thumb, a nervous habit Druig knew all too well. 

“Afraid not. We haven’t even been here a full ten minutes. I said hello to your father, and came right to see you. Caught you right on time.” He smiled, one of his palms coming to rest on your cheek. You placed your much tinier hand on his, “I’m so happy to see you.” You hummed, a content sigh passing through your nose. “I’ve missed you, dearly.” You admitted. 

“And I’ve missed you infinitely more, my beautiful (Y/N).” 

[nightowlfandom]

Noctis Lucis Caelum- Arguments and Arrangements

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...

"FUCK YOU"

"When and where, toots?"

"Why I ought to-" you approached Noctis with your gun cocked and ready to shoot the smug grin off his face. It was Prompto’s fault for giving you his lucky pistol for your birthday. 

Gladiolus had you by the waist. Holding you on his lap. He drug you to the other side of the hotel room while Ignis reprimanded Noctis for bullying you again.

"Hey hey-"  Cindy stopped you dead in your tracks by jumping between the two of you. "No fightin' on the property!" She snatched the firearm out of your hand, causing you to growl in sheer annoyance. “You’re gonna have to pay for this place, y’know?”

"Tell her to chill out!"

"Tell him to stop messing with me!" You snapped. Noctis LOVED getting under your skin for some odd unknown reason. It was like he got off on pissing you off every chance he got. And trust, he used EVERY CHANCE HE GOT.

"Noct, why can't ya just leave Y/N be for once?" Cindy, who seemed to be on your side shook her head. 

"It's either you two fight it out, or fuck it out! Pick one!" Prompto voice his opinion.

"PROMPTO!!" You said in pure shock. You didn't think they'd take it that far, not to mention Noctis was the LAST person you'd want to see you naked...under him...doing things...with him. The thought was just absurd! You yanked yourself out of Gladio’s grip. 

“Excuse me?!”

“Pardon me!?”

"I've had it with you two arguing!" She looked between you and Noctis. "We’re gonna step out and wrassle up some dinner for us all. Then maybe search for a few parts and if the two of you haven't made up by the time I come back, y'all are walking everywhere from now on, ya hear me?". Without giving you time to disagree or even answer, she threw open the door and stepped out, the other boys following behind.

“Y/N, Noctis. I recommended following Cindy’s instructions...or else.” his glare lingered on your both. 

"They took our shit didn't they?" You glowered. You noticed your weapon was gone and Noctis’s sword was missing.

"Yep." Noctis didn't sound too happy either.

"So were basically fuckin’ trapped." you asked.

"Seems so." he replied.

"Whatever." you huffed walking over to the couch seat. "I'll wait."

"Didn't you hear her? She said-"

"I know what she said." You rolled your eyes. "Doesn't mean I'm gonna listen. We have nothing to say to each other." You crossed your arms, leaning back. “Unless you got something to tell me, Caelum.”

"..." Noct didn't respond. He just walked over to his spot on the bed, far from you. Fine by you, you didn't want to be near that asshole anyways.

A good few minutes passed in complete silence. You were twiddling your thumbs while Noctis was playing with his phone. You took the time to look over at him. His black, ravenette hair reflected the slowly setting sun that peered through the window. You could make out the curve of his jaw as he clenched and unclenched. He was thinking about something. The way he bit his lip in concentration for whatever he was doing was almost-

"You gonna sit there and stare at me all day or what?" You snapped out of your daze and finally realized Noctis was staring at you. Well, he was glaring. Same thing.

"Sorry." You instantly looked away. When were they gonna be back already?

"Why do you hate me anyways." Noctis swung his feet around and twisted his body until he was facing you. "Honestly."

"Because you hated me first." You scoffed, refusing to look back at him. "I seem to remember you holding a certain disdain for me." You laughed harshly. "How quickly we forget, Prince Jackass."

"Well you know me." He shrugged smirking. "I don't remember stuff too good." He got up and maneuvered over to you.. He sat down next to you. He was hunched over, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Obviously." You cracked a smile. "Remember when we first met? Threw me right into a daemon's grasp?"

"Yeah." He laughed bitterly. "You used a pen to cut yourself free then made a whole scene."

"You liar!"

"I am not! You chased me up the street."

"Well I didn't have a weapon of my own!" You replied. "Be honest, it was impressive."

"You got me." He shook his head. "Never met a girl who could turn a regular old pen into a weapon."

"You should meet my family." You chuckled. “They’re the crazy ones.”

"I'll pass." He seemed to be opening up because he relaxed more, leaning back in the seat. "So...I know Cindy likes to take her time. What are we gonna do until then?"

"Good question." You said, standing up. Since you really didn't take note of how slippery the floors were, you lost your footing, getting ready to fall back down. "Ack!"

"Woah, hey!" Noctis wrapped an arm around your waist. You landed right on his lap, thanks to him moving over in time. "What was that?"

"Sorry. I guess I wasn't-" it was only then you noticed how close to his face you were. "Paying attention." You finished quietly.

Noctis narrowed his eyes, burning his gaze into your own. His eyes darted around, scanning every detail of your face. Without thinking, you slowly moved your hand to brush his cheek with your knuckles. Honestly, a few hours ago, you would have wanted to punch his square in his face. Now, you weren't so sure what you wanted to do now.

Noctis's tongue darted out to lick his lips, which did all sorts of things to you. Whether they were good or bad was a debate to be had. He must have been thinking the same thing. "You're really close, you know that?"

"...Yeah." you replied breathlessly. "Guess I'm a bit clumsy." Despite it sounding like you were about to get off, you relaxed into his touch. "Someone could be back any minute."

"Yeah." He showed no signs of letting you get up. Instead, his hand crawled under your shirt, up your back. You leaned down and partially surprised him with a sudden kiss. Despite his surprise, he returned the kiss whole heartedly. He silently moaned into your mouth, wasting no time in introducing his tongue to yours.

Noctis laid back on the couch, taking you with him. His began exploring your body, and damn! You had a sexy body. He always wondered why you insisted on your ‘uniform’ being the way it was, but that body? He wasn’t gonna fucking complain. He loved seeing you in shorts with those garters that double as a place to store your weapons.

Shit, he was a good kisser. It was about time he used his mouth for something other than talking shit. “Shit, Y/N. Why didn’t we think of this before?”

“Don’t know-.” you moaned, feeling his hands reach for the zipper of your jacket. 

“Damnit, Y/N!” he groaned. “Let me get on top of you.” he urged, moving you around so he was hovering over you. You stared up at Noctis who was fumbling with your belt.

Noctis covered your mouth with his again. “Noctis, someone could walk in.”

“I don’t care.” he glowered, kissing down your neck. He discarded your jacket. “Shit, you’re so hot. Your skin feels like....the sun.” he breathed out. “Shit I’m hard already.” he grunted. “and we’ve only kissed.”

“Are we really doing this right now?” you looked up as Noctis ripped his shirt from his body. “Ignis is gonna kill you-”

“Fuck that tool.” he growled. “Or maybe I should fuck you instead.” he crashed his mouth over yours again. You moaned wantonly into his mouth. 

You felt him pull down your pants, take off your garters and panties with them. “Take em off.”

 You fumbled with his belt too, in a desperation to undress him as well.

“Tell me, Y/N...you don’t think this is the only time we’re gonna do this are you?”

“I’d be dumb to assume.” you whimpered. 

“Good girl, this little arrangement of ours is good...”

....

[edelegs]

black eagles relationships i like but don’t see talked about enough

Ferdinand and Petra - I adore their supports. You see a lot of Ferdinand’s dorky side with his reading about historic weapons, and you see that he is genuinely curious about Petra’s culture. He admits that he initially didn’t realize how sophisticated Brigidian techniques are and I just adore his vulnerability with her. And then there’s Petra in their A support, admitting she found a second home in Fòdlan, and the two discuss their loneliness? It’s such interesting insight into both characters (especially Ferdie; I’d say these are some of his most well-rounded supports)

Hubert and Dorothea - Dorothea sees right through Hubert’s edgy theatre kid persona. She approaches him like she would any friend right from the beginning and teases him about his love life. She also respects and believes him when he says that unrequited love isn’t his motivation. I would’ve liked a conclusion that wasn’t Dorothea suggesting they marry, but it is really funny that she did that. I love their paired ending too--completely platonic espionage opera! What could be better?

Hubert and Byleth - in my head they have a quirky sitcom where Byleth keeps trying to arrange Edeleth/Ferdibert double dates and Hubert has to attend them. (but seriously, the appeal of Hubert is looking at this man and saying “I’m gonna make you like me”, and then you do it). Outside of my shipping biases, his threats to you are funny as shit considering that he has no power over you and he’s always dying in battle, but once you win his trust he admits that despite looking Blatantly Evil, he truly abhors TWSTID and is already planning their follow-up war. I could easily see him and Byleth co-leading the war in the shadows (and that’s where the dialogue of the aforementioned platonic Huleth workplace comedy takes place). Also my friend who played as m!Byleth told me the “we could be a couplet of birds” line in the A-support still exists regardless of gender. Hubert is demiromantic bi and you CANNOT change my mind 

Edelgard and Petra - “Don’t settle for being the bird. Be the arrow instead” Both have a great deal of mutual respect for each other, even though Edelgard is heir to the nation that has kept Petra’s country down for years. You see the same beliefs Petra holds in her supports with Caspar here--that being, “we are not our parents, we can make different choices”. It’s a shame they only have 2 supports. I think it would’ve been cool to see Petra asking Edelgard for Brigidian independence or otherwise talking about how she can achieve her goal. 

Edelgard and Linhardt - I actually think people talk about this a bit, but it’s one of my favourite Black Eagles support chains so I have to mention it. This one is the key to understanding that Edelgard’s better world is only possible in her route, when she has the support and opportunity to trust others enough to learn how to listen to them and consider their perspectives. I advise anyone who thinks Edelgard would be a brutal dictator to watch these supports, because they so blatantly contradict that idea? Linhardt initially frustrates her because she knows he’s talented and smart but he doesn’t want to do anything to help the world with that. Characters like Linhardt are usually given an arc in which they overcome an initial selfishness to help others. This is not that. These supports are about Edelgard learning to understand Linhardt and accommodate him. Edelgard agonizes over finding the perfect way to allow him to do his research in a way that suits him--and when she senses his hesitation at her initial plan, she presses him for the problem and reconfigures the idea because she won’t put him in a situation he’s not fully content in. This is astounding character growth (from both of them, but mostly Edelgard). Also the struggle depicted in this chain is just something that spoke to me when I first saw it--”be useful” versus “learn for knowledge’s sake” is pretty much my exact struggle in life 😂 Seeing two of my favourite characters reach a resolution that satisfied both of them was hopeful, to say the least. 

Caspar and Ferdinand - What strikes me about their supports is that it compares and contrasts these characters’ ideas of justice against each other. Honestly, the Black Eagles as a whole have takes on morality that are just slightly skewed, and these characters’ arguments about it exemplify it. Caspar just thinks that people who hurt others should be hit right away, head empty no thoughts but j u s t i c e. Ferdinand initially believes that all sense of justice comes from being nobility, and with that comes an obligation to be morally superior. Having Caspar just go “uh yeah, what does nobility have to do with it? I just had to hit that guy” is one way in which Ferdinand’s ideals are challenged. It’s a cool contrast that I think highlights an interesting aspect of the Black Eagles and what they were taught. 

Dorothea and Bernie - I love everything about their interaction. If Dorothea were a lesser character, she’d be the mean popular girl who shames Bernie for her messy hair and her anxiety. Instead, Dorothea is patient and Bernie is like “oh no she’s Too Cool for me”. Dorothea also makes note of what Bernie says as she gets too anxious to continue the interaction and aims to comfort her in their next support. We get a good Bernie character moment in their B-support, where she mentions her father ruining her friendship with a commoner boy--and a cathartic moment where Dorothea tells her that her father’s an asshole and that they’re going to be friends anyway. Bernie cries in Dorothea’s arms and AHHHH why didn’t we get MORE of this???

Bernie and Petra - If I could add any support and ending to the game, it would be Bernie/Petra. They have such a good starting point--because of Bernie’s anxiety and Petra being a second language speaker of Fòdlandish, they are prone to miscommunications (which is the general theme of early Bleagles supports). They had a nice 2-support arc where they understand each other a little better--but then there’s the paralogue, where Petra encourages Bernie to come to her homeland with her and Bernie realizes she wants to travel and see amazing things like carnivorous plants. This is fantastic character development for her and is a satisfying conclusion to her arc. I feel like most of Bernie’s endings involve her just reverting back to her hermit self instead of developing a balance between who she was at the beginning and who she’s grown into. I think Petra would offer to let her come to Brigid again, where she helps her navigate a new language and culture. Bernie’s anxiety is still bad but Petra has been in her position and can offer advise and reassurance. Petra is also patient and would give Bernie a safe little house near the carnivorous plants for her to retreat to when overwhelmed. It becomes both of their refuge, with Petra taking time away from her regal duties to spend time with Bernie and her art and her stories. Whether it’s romantic or platonic is up to preference but I low-key ship them 😏

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE SIX || AFTER RAIN

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + zenin maki + inumaki toge + panda from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of death + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 25 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 2.6k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : curse womb must die II

↳ next episode : assault 

↳ barista’s notes : hey hey hey~ let me admit, i have no idea how to write the next episode since you don’t see anyone in them except for gojo and itadori (domain expansion episode) ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ so i might have to improvise something now...BUT there’s nothing much happening in this episode, so i hope you still enjoy it even when there is no action or anything interesting going on ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique 

no cursed spells used this episode...

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing

“We’re in!” Fushiguro and Kugisaki simultaneously answered with determined looks on their faces before turning back to look at you, waiting for your answer.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, you knew that you had no way out of this since they looked so motivated for you to join, even if you disagreed with them.

“This is such a drag, but fine, I’ll join in too,” you replied with a small smile on your face leading them to nod at you before turning back to your seniors.

“But if I decided this training and exchange event is pointless, I’m quitting instantly,” Kugisaki mentioned.

“Same here,” Fushiguro commented, causing you to kick both of them on the back much to their surprise.

“So you drags make me do this event, only for you to dip when it’s pointless for you, besides I heard there are some interesting sorcerers in the Kyoto side, so prepare yourselves,” you stated before stepping down the few steps you were in front of before standing between them.

“Well, people this cocky are all more worthwhile to train,” Panda mentioned with his arms folded with a determined look on his face.

“Bonito flakes,” Inumaki said in a softer tone.

Looking up to the sky, you couldn’t help but brisk in the sunlight that was shining lightly down upon you, leading you to raise your hand over your face in order to not be blinded.

‘I wonder how I’m going to hide from this one now?’

                                                   ꕥ

“You’re late, Megumi,” Zenin obviously mentioned, as her head was turned with what seemed like to be a wooden combat pole in her hand as it casually leaned against her shoulder.

“Kelp,” Inumaki stated, as he was sitting on the ground, also having his head turned to look at the Shikigami user, ignoring what seemed to be a race between Kugisaki and Panda going on behind him.

“What were you doing?” Maki asked curiously, as Fushiguro made his way down the stone steps towards his upperclassman while zipping up his blue track top.

“What does it matter?” Fushiguro then questioned, not giving the weapon-wielder sorcerer a clear answer since he thought there was no need sharing the fact that he went to visit the mother of the man (that Itadori want to save) that had been killed by the special-grade curse back at Eushi Detention Centre to pay his condolences.

“Zenin-senpai...what kinds of people do you want to save as a jujutsu sorcerer?” Fushiguro queried, as he processed to stare down upon the ground trying to hide his emotions to compose his stoic nature, causing the mentioned sorcerer to turn her head once again to look at the other student.

“Huh? It’s not like I care if my actions save anyone,” Zenin answered in a matter-of-fact tone, causing Fushiguro to look to the side with an ‘I’m done’ expression.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” Fushiguro muttered in a lowered tone, leading Zenin to instantly become annoyed as she eyed at the erratic-haired boy with instant irritations in her eyes as well as expression.

Suddenly…

“FUSHIGURO! Quit asking interview prep questions! Switch with me! I’m sick of these school uniforms! Let me go buy some cute tracksuits!” Kugisaki shouted in a fit of rage, as she was strangely spun around in a dizzy circle like she was at a funfair circus as a clueless gymnast before being thrown in the air by Panda.

“What are those two doing?” Fushiguro confusingly asked as he watched the amusing sight process while his classmate landed on the floor.

“Falling practice!” Panda announced as he pointed his finger in the air like what he was doing was obviously.

“Mustard leaf,” Inumaki stated as if to confirm Panda’s answer, as he too looked at the ridiculous scene.

“You’re both weak in close quarters, after all,” Panda stated, as he informed his younger classmen on why what he was doing, made sense to the training that he had planned.

“By the way, where is Y/N? She was with you when you both left to do whatever you were doing,” Zenin questioned, as she looked around the area behind her to see if you were there since she did miss your presence the last time you both met.

“She said she needed to go somewhere important, but will be back as quick as possible,” Fushiguro recalled, as he remembers after you both met with Tadashi’s mother, you informed him that you had to go somewhere for the time being, but didn’t tell him where you were exactly heading off to.

“That’s fine, I guess,” Maki replied back as she processed to swing around the wooden pole she had in her hand with such grace and accuracy before continuing with, “if what that idiot Gojo said to us about her is true, she could beat all of us in an instant, she’ll probably be perfect in the individual’s battle,”.

“Okay, land a blow on us,” Zenin stated, with her palm out, as if inviting Fushiguro to attack her.

                                                ꕥ

“I’m here, mother”

As of right now, you were holding a small bouquet of a beautiful arrangement of blue hydrangeas paired with white roses with some incense sticks in one hand, while the other was holding a wooden tub filled with water with a wooden ladle as well as a plastic white bag with items you quickly brought from the corner store causing you to quickly place your items down before leaving the delicate bouquet in a safe area.

Digging through the white plastic bag, you pulled out a cloth before removing the stubborn tags that refused to be taken off as you processed to soak the material before beginning to wipe down the marble gravestone that towered you as your crouched down before cleaning the vase that you had also brought from the corner store - yet you were surprised at the fact there were no weeds to be pulled.

After you had quickly clean the gravestone, you picked up the incense sticks in their rightful holder before lighting them up with a match (that you also brought from the store) before carefully removing the paper that held the flowers to gently place the floral plants in the same neat arrangement in the now cleaned vase.

Making sure the china vase was placed in the middle, you grabbed the wooden ladle that was in the wooden bucket, making sure it had enough water before standing back up on your feet to pour the clear liquid over the grave as you then placed the ladle back into the bucket.

Placing your hands together in prayer, before internally thanking your mother for protecting you as well as expressing your gratitude for her.

“They’re your favourite flowers right?” you gently asked, as you stared down at the flowers that were beautifully sitting in the vase. “Those were really expensive you know, I wonder how you were able to buy them so often without any regrets,” you muttered with a small smile before crouching back down as if you were going to look eye to eye with the gravestone like your mother was going to be sitting in front of you.

“I've been found…but...I wasn’t as bad as I suspected, the people at Jujutsu Tech are such drags but they’re really nice people,” you expressed, as you continued with, “I’m sorry I took so long to visit, you know Sendai to Tyoko is a really long journey, technically that’s both our faults since we agreed that we wanted to rest in Tokyo if we did pass,”.

Looking at the marble stone in front of you, you could see the thin smoke of incense that was slowly swirling into the air, as if it was trying to hypnotise you with its graceful movements. However, even though you knew you had to get back to Jujutsu Tech as quick as you could, you couldn’t help but utter a few more words to your late mother.

“I miss you mum”

                                                ꕥ

“Ah- am I late?”

At this current moment in time, it seemed like training had taken a pause since everyone was seated somewhere close to the stone stairs that lead the way down to the track field.

“Where were you? I needed you to train Megumi more,” Zenin asked, as you carefully made your way down the stairs with another white plastic bag in hand before making your way to your upperclassmen with one hand holding each handle, leaving an opening that was large enough to let her have a view on the contents inside.

“Sorry, I was visiting someone, but I got you guys some refreshments since I know you all were going to be tired by the time I came. Oh! The orange juice is mine by the way,” you mentioned, as you swiftly grabbed the orange carton from the bag as if someone was going to steal it if you didn’t.

Smiling at you, Zenin leaned away from the tree bark to see what she could choose from the bag, before reaching in, to grab that bottle of water as her choice before you processed to hold the bag around for everyone to get a pick on what beverage they wanted before you took a seat on the steps between Fushiguro and Inuamki.

“Where’s Kugisaki?” you asked in curiosity, as you looked around the fielded area only to not find your classmate leading Fushiguro to explain to you that she went out to buy a tracksuit since she didn’t have one, causing you to realise that you probably needed to change later but for now, you didn’t find being in your school uniform since the slit on the side of your long skirt, made it easier to move as well as deal with the warm environment that was coming in for the season at the moment.

“Gojo, your katana is a cursed weapon right?” Fushiguro asked, causing you to look at him weirdly after stabbing the straw into the carton before giving him a nod as a way to reply to his question.

“I agreed with the others that supplementing my close combat with weapons is the best choice right now, but with my cursed technique, I want to be able to free both hands at any time, with katanas, you lose time sheathing them,” Fushiguro explained, as he placed the pads of his fingers together while looking down at them.

“How do you carry your weapon when your cursed technique is used by your hands as well, also how did you manage to hide the chain attached at the end?” Fushiguro asked as he looked up at you, only to be surprised when he saw you looking at him with an annoyed expression.

‘That’s one way to somewhat expose me, I guess’

“I can utilise my technique by using only one hand, although there are times when I have to use both hands like you. However, I rarely unsheathe my katana, so it usually hangs on my back,” you described, causing Fushiguro’s to concentrate on you, trying to understand your technique since it seemed more complicated then you made it look at your battle with Sukuna.

“About the chain, the red charm cancels the chain being constructed since it will use my cursed energy, not a lot for me, but it’s a drag since I need the extra bit. When the charm is off, I use my curse energy to conceal before clicking my fingers to reveal it, if I want to, and when I use two hands, I can use the chain to pull it back,” you explained, causing the second-years to be surprised at the amount of cursed energy you have to use to employ such a simple weapon - maybe it wasn’t as simple as they intentionally thought.

“How much cursed energy do you possess, Y/N?” Panda asked as he placed his paw on his chin in a thinking posture, only for Fushiguro to answer the question.

“She has a lot more than she is showing right now, I don’t know how but she can hide it,” Fushiguro stated, causing you to smack the back of his head before placing the neglected straw back to your lips since you were desperately craving the citrus content that was in the carton.

“Zenin-senpai, you often carry more than two around with you, right? How do you do that?” Fushiguro queried as he rubbed the back of his head to soothe the pain you had given him.

“I made Panda carry them,” Zenin answered, as she pointed at the classmate leading to the animal sorcerer to proudly show off his muscles as if to inform you and Fushiguro on how strong he was.

“I shouldn’t have asked, part two,” Fushiguro muttered under his breath, causing you to giggle internally at the statement as you wondered what he must have asked the first time since ‘part two’ was in the sentence.

“Some sorcerers keep cursed spirits that can store and retrieve objects,” Panda presented a well-thought idea, even though there was a disadvantage to that.

“He can’t do that. It’s a rare thing and it takes time to tame them, as well. But if you find any, let me know,” Zenin countered, before Panda replied for the payment he wanted if he ever finds a curse for her, causing you to zone out from the conversation as you processed to stare down at the step before you, that was slightly darkened by the shade of your shadow.

In curiosity, you took a side glance at your classmate only to notice that he was in deep thought, leaving you to figure something out for him while he thought of his own solution.

‘His shikigami uses shadows for a medium, then if that is the case…’

Using your hand that was occupied with your orange juice, you leaned forwards slightly, letting the tips of your fingers touch the stone step below you while making them land in the middle of your shadow.

“I think you can do that,” you stated in a quiet tone, causing Fushiguro to look in your direction only to see you staying still in the position that you had set yourself in before slowly pulling yourself back up to sit in a normal position, leading Fushiguro to go back to what he was in deep thought about.

‘I don’t get it, though. Why...did you run back then? What a waste of talent, but the girl back at that place, she knows how to use her technique extremely well’

“You possess such intellect, such skill, such power and such talent and yet you refuse to go against me with your full potential, are you mocking me?”

‘I have the potential to beat special grades? Is that what he meant by that?’ Fushiguro thought, before turning to look at you to discover you were looking into the distance while continuously sipping on your orange juice like the addict you were. 

‘What was she trying to tell me? It seemed like L/N knows something...intellect?’

Slowly but curiously, Fushiguro began to reciprocate your previous movements by letting his hand touch the step between his legs before waiting for a second to see what you were trying to inform him, only for his hand to steadily go deeper into his shadow leading him to widen his eyes at this discovery.

“Tuna, tuna,” Inumaki mentioned, as he pointed at Fushiguro since he noticed what he was doing, leading Zenin and Panda to look at their classmate wanting to know what he was trying to bring their attention to.

“Huh? What?” Zenin asked in confusion, before turning her head in the shikigami user’s direction to realise what he was doing.

“Senpai, I think I can do it,” Fushiguro stated with a rare smile, before looking in your direction once again to see you were still staring at the field in front of you.

‘Such intellect…’

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[herohikara-wol]

FFXIV Write 2k22 - Prompt 19

Turn a Blind Eye

Thancred and Hero discuss keeping Zenos around as a not-really-a-scion-because-we-supposedly-disbanded team member. Hero shows off his shiny new spine, surgically inserted by his Dark Knight Job Stone. Takes place after Prompt 11 (Live) and around the same timeline as Prompt 14 (Attrition).

“So how long are we going to play this little game?”

“What little game?” Things were calming down, Hero had time to spend at his bakery without having to worry about the fate of the world, and it was hard for even Thancred’s most withering stare to burst his bubble when he was in his element.

“Playing house with the man who tried to end the Star over a crush, Hero. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” While most of the other scions had given little more than a sigh and shake of the head over Hero’s housing arrangement, Thancred wasn’t quite so willing to let the hatchet rest in the shallow grave Hero’d tried to bury it in. “Does Gridania even know he’s been living here with you?”

Hero’s ears twitched a bit and the Viera’s light steps faltered, “Kan-E-Senna knows what she needs to know. I haven’t heard any complaints, I still report to the Twin Adders from time to time and no one has said a word to me about it. So presumably the only person with a problem is you.”

Granted what the Seedseer technically knew about Zenos was that Hero had a Garlean refugee living in his home whose family died from the tempering fiasco in Garlemald and was currently displaced. The name of the man had conveniently slipped Hero’s mind at the time. He was a shite liar, but absolutely fantastic with his misdirection. It was technically correct and that was all Hero needed to be able to say it with confidence.

Sadly, Thancred was one of maybe four people who could see right through his charms. “Alright, well if he’s so interested in making amends, where is he at the current moment?”

“Well, you know how he kidnapped Krile once upon a time and patterned his Resonant after her echo?”

“Of course I do, you know I do. I helped find her.”

“You know how Krile is a terrifying woman when she’s holding a grudge?”

“Oh. Oh that is priceless. You left Zenos with her?” The scowl on Thancred’s face lightened for a moment before the concern turned his features dark again, “alone? If anything happens to her, Hero-”

“With G’raha, a linkpearl, and without his voidsent; he has to rely on weapons that store their own aether again. I think right now they’re using Raha’s Allagan blood to force some systems in Azys Lla to calm down enough for extraction and research. Nero basically hired G’raha for the excursion. From the calls I’ve been getting, they make a good adventuring group. Zenos is the muscle, Krile is good at providing succor, G’raha is a jack of all trades, and Nero is Nero.”

“You mean Nero is a problem.” Thancred folded his arms over his chest, still trying to see between the lines in Hero’s vivid explanation, only to shake his head. “You honestly think he can be redeemed.”

Hero bit his tongue for a moment, the oven’s timer finally going off and giving him the chance to think about what he wanted to say. “I think everyone deserves a chance to be better. Would most rather see him executed? Of course, but let’s be honest, who would be able to? Percival would refuse on principle. That leaves me, and if I refuse, then who?”

The words had their intended effect, Thancred’s face twisted like he’d just tried to drink curdled milk. Zenos had proven he could face a hundred armed men and kill them all while unarmed. No one save Hero or Percival could even hope to subdue him, much less execute him. Zenos was now part of what remained of the scions.

Whether he liked it or not.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Hero. If you make an enemy of the entire star over one man, where would you go? What would you do?”

“I don’t know, but this is my choice, and I’m sticking to it.” He hummed for a moment, “granted, if I had to leave this star, I could. I could take Zenos with me too. Unlike everyone else, this doesn’t have to be my home, and if it comes to that? Well, then I guess we’ll burn that bridge when we get there.”

For once there was no joy in Hero’s smile, and the underlying threat struck true. Hero could go to Elpis, to the First, to any of the other remaining Shards to live his life with Zenos- and not a single soul could stop him or even go after him save a man best described as an elder wyrm in a fragile mortal shell. No one alive would stop their warrior of light from leaving if he didn’t get his way.

It was petty, petulant, and above all else? It was selfish. However, Thancred let out a sigh and his shoulders slumped, “I suppose you deserve to keep one thing for yourself after everything you’ve been through. If that means I need to learn how to work with Zenos, then I guess I have little choice but to try.”

Hero’s long ears perked up as his blue eyes sparkled again, “thank you for understanding. I was honestly afraid you’d be more insistent, I don’t usually get to dig my heels in. I’m trying to practice advocating for my own needs more.” Lest Esteem strangle him in the night and take charge of his own volition.

“I just wish your needs were less complicated.” Thancred reached for the tray of biscotti Hero had just pulled from the oven only to get his hand swatted. “They’re done, aren’t they?”

“Not yet! I still have to dip them in chocolate and sprinkle the candied orange peel over them. You can wait.” The tension eased and Hero was back to his chipper self, as if the conversation had been forgotten already.