#the rig sword thing is so nothing

[sonic-adventure-3]

ocs i doodled on a flight

[eraenaa]

Worth the Price

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister Reader

Synopsis: Aemond does everything to prove that he is worthy of you— even if it means that he would be a kinslayer twice.

Warnings: Aemond Plots Against Aegon, Oral Sex (f & m receiving), Mature, 18+, Semi-Public Relations, Choking, Edging, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 5,585

A/N: Reposting bc I was uncertain about this dynamic, but fuck it, I have a soft spot for a Lannister reader and cannot let it rest in my drafts.

Aemond had wanted you since he was young, but as a second son, he would always come second best to his brother. You were a daughter of house Lannister, betrothed to Aegon the moment you were born, an alliance not to keep their Valyrain blood pure but rather to be mixed with gold. You had grown in the walls of the keep, taken from your mother’s arms a few moons after your birth, and grew up under the supervision of your uncle, Tyland Lannister, as a measure to keep you acquainted with your betrothed, Aegon. 

However, such arrangements instilled since your infancy were changed when Queen Alicent was offered a bastard for her only daughter. The queen was quick to cut the engagement made in your infancy and instead betrothed her firstborn son to her firstborn daughter, offering Aemond as your consolation prize. Aemond, who was ten at the time, was thrilled to hear of such arrangements, finally gaining one of the things his heart yearned for the most: you. However, he could see the quiet and greatly covered disappointment not only in your house but in you as well— you were set to be queen, now you were now only to be the lady-wife of a mere second-born son. 

Aemond never truly heard such qualms leave your lips. He was fortunate enough that you had always been keen and kind to him in childhood, and your affection for him only grew in time. But he could not help but be affected by your quiet and greatly oppressed disappointment. For the first ten years of your life, you were prepared and molded to be a queen, hours of unending lessons on how to play the part wasted as you were to be bound to a mere second son. Aemond could not stand for it. He ambitioned to be so much more. He could not stand to be just the second. Second son, second in line, second in your heart. 

“My love, are you listening?” You asked as your husband’s gaze was afar, and you had noticed his attention was not on you. You furrowed your brows as he made no reply, tugging at his arm to bring him out of his trance. “I— I apologize, my heart, I was thinking of another matter,” You pursed your lips and hummed, “And praytell, what matter may that be? Certainly, it is of much importance that you have started ignoring me,” Aemond bit his lip to hinder his amused smirk; he just absolutely adored how you were never afraid to voice out and demand his undivided attention— in others, he would find that absolutely insufferable, but of course, that sentiment was not the same for his dear lady-wife. 

Aemond sighed and could not help but kiss you, unbothered that you two were in the halls and anyone could walk in and see such passion exuding from his usually stoic and rigged demeanor. As your lips parted and Aemond’s body was alight by the feel of your lips and the taste of you, you simply raised your brow, silently urging him to tell the matters that plagued his mind. Aemond tucked a strand of your golden hair and sighed once more, “Nothing— just mere matters of the realm that the king is too incompetent to comprehend and tend to,” You nodded, “Then he is lucky to have you— his brother forever capable and loyal to him and the kingdom,” Aemond bit his tongue. “You must steer him in the right direction, my love. We are already at war; we cannot have the kingdom in shambles because of Aegon’s squandering self. You have always been the diligent one, unending hours poured into learning the histories of your house and training with your sword… your great knowledge must be exercised greatly in this hour of war.” Aemond could only nod his agreement. You smiled and cupped his cheek, tracing his scar, and you hummed as Aemond pressed his cheek further into your soft palm. 

“Now go; I believe that it is the hour of the small council. Best be there and see to it that your brother does not humiliate your family’s claim to the throne further,” You say, reluctantly urging him to let go of his hold on you, even though you were always quick to miss his touch. Aemond shook his head, “Do not be so stubborn,” you said, and you smiled further when Aemond wrapped both of his arms around your waist. You rose to the tip of your toes and pecked your husband’s lips as encouragement. Even though you had shared his kisses countless of times, you still felt the quiet tingle on your plush lips as you two did such actions. “Very well then, I shall do whatever my lady-wife should ask of me,” He said against your lips, making your smile widen. You parted and tried to walk off, but Aemond took hold of your wrist and pulled you back to him, a laugh escaping from your lips, and you rested your hands atop his chest. “And where are you off to?” 

You smirked, “To some engagements for the court that I offered Helaena reprieve from. And after, you shall find me in our chambers… warming our bed… waiting impatiently for you.” You whispered the final part, watching as Aemond’s lilac eye darkened with want, pupils dilated that it made your core turn— finding it utterly flattering how quickly your husband will always grow in want of you. “Now go; the quicker you are to attend the meeting, the quicker they are to end, and you can be my arms.” You said and gave a final kiss on your husband’s cheek before hastily walking off, afraid that Aemond’s wants would get the better of him and take you against the alcove in the hall; it had occurred once or twice before. 

Aemond stomped off the room of the small council after a rather aggravating session with his brother. Seeing Aegon be so clueless with the matters of the realm and the war was pathetic. And in a way, Aemond found great satisfaction in that— seeing Aegon struggle to comprehend his words as he spoke in the ancient tongue, his brother unable to articulate even just one sentence without stammering like a simpleton was quite amusing but overly embarrassing. As the meeting ended, Aemond was quick to rise to his feet and leave, overly impatient to be with you— savoring every second in your arms before he had to leave quietly in the night to make good of his secret plottings with Ser Criston. 

Aemond walked the halls that led to his chambers, each step fervent and quick. The fading sun illuminated his chambers when he entered, setting it aglow in an amber hue. “I’ve been waiting,” Aemond heard you breathlessly call, his head quickly turning to your bed; he squinted his eye as he could not see you through the canopy covers. Aemond wasted no time to march in your direction; his breath caught in his throat as he saw your figure covered by nothing but a thin sheet that was comparable to what the whores in the street of silk wore. You lounged laxly in the middle of the bed, your body in full display for your husband, who stared at you dumbfounded and filled with desire. 

“Seven hells,” Aemond could not help but mutter in pure amazement. His knees felt weak, and his stomach coiled painfully in burning want of you. “Do you not like it?” You frowned as he only stood there, you feigned innocence— of course, you knew he would like it. You knew your husband better than he knew himself. Having grown up with him, you knew every possible thing there is to know about Aemond. Aegon may have been your betrothed at the start, but you were not at all keen to know him to such a deeper level than you had his brother. 

You went to the edge of the bed to meet your husband, who stood by the foot of it, kneeling before him as he hungrily raked his gaze through your body, yet he still did not dare to move. “Has my display rendered you simple, my prince?” You asked lowly, peeking up at him through your lashes and watching as the ball on his throat bobbed and hearing how his breathing turned ragged. You hummed and raised your hand to caress his cheek, rising higher to be met with his face, slyly pushing your breast against his clothed chest. Aemond groaned at just the simple feeling of that. You ghosted your lips against his jaw and neck, your fingers effortlessly undoing the buckles of his leather doublet. 

Your hand slowly trailed south after you had successfully removed his upper clothing; you heard the catch in Aemond’s breath as your fingers trailed his toned chest and torso. Every single inch of him was carved by the gods and embodied a warrior. Aemond hissed as he felt you cup his needing length through his trousers, watching as a sly smirk rose to your lips. “I see that you are quite… tense, my love,” You whispered against his lips, catching as his eye fluttered to a close as you added pressure into his length. “I am.” He gritted, and your smirk widened. “Hm… tell me then what do you need— what do you want, my prince?” You taunted and felt him shudder as you slipped your hand into his trousers, finally letting him feel skin against skin.

“I want… I need you, little wife. I desperately need you,” He muttered as his eye opened. Aemond moved to kiss your lips, but you instead lowered yourself to be met with his length, yanking down his trousers and letting your lips wrap around the tip of his needing and weeping cock. Aemond’s hands lost themselves in your hair, fisting the gold strands in utter pleasure, hissing as you sucked his length, urging yourself to take his cock deeper into your throat. Lewd sounds of your and Aemond’s heavy breathing, along with you gagging on his cock echoed through the chambers. Quiet praises leave your husband’s lips as you pleasure him with your mouth. You reached out to fondle his stones, earning a loud groan from him, and his head tilted to the heavens. Aemond could only stand there and marvel at you, his eye torn as to what to stare upon, your pretty face or your ample behind that hung in the air and squirmed with each of your pleasurable movements. He began to wonder what he had done to have you as his lady wife and pondered the ways he could prove himself worthy of you. 

Aemond felt himself ready to come undone, and he forcefully slipped out his cock from your lips, earning a whine from you. “Had I done something wrong?” You panted as you wiped away the traces of drool on your chin, looking up at Aemond with slight hurt in your eyes. Your husband was quick to shake his head and cup your cheeks, “No— you could never do me wrong, my heart,” He reassured, but you felt yourself pout and wonder as to why he had ceased your actions, if you were being honest, you quite enjoyed sucking his cock. 

“Then wh—“ Your words were left unfinished as you felt Aemond cup your dripping heat. Your eyes widened, and the earlier smirk on your lips had now flown to your husband’s. “Already so wet for me… you are a saint, my heart. Tending to my needs first even though you yourself are in desperate want of release.” Aemond hummed as your eyes rolled back; he effortlessly slipped two digits into your dripping core. You mewled out his name, squealing as he curled the digits and as his thumb fervently rubbed your sensitive pearl. “I want your cock,” You said distractedly, any form of decorum or chasteness gone as your want for Aemond had made you utterly desperate. 

Aemond let out an amused breath, “Of course you do,” He taunted and smashed his lips unto yours. You clawed at his toned arm as you felt your release bubbling, but before you could finally feel the climax you sought, Aemond parted your lips and ceased the pleasure of his fingers. You whined, glaring at your husband, who only stared down at you in amusement as he brought his fingers to his lips and licked off your essence. “Patience, my heart. All that you want shall come in due time,” He whispered his oath, and you huffed as he walked away, leaving you to wonder what had gotten into his mind. 

You lay on the bed as your husband went to one corner of your chambers. Your legs were spread, and your cunt was pulsating in need. You could not help yourself as your fingers slipped along the wet folds, holding back your moans as you touched yourself because you could not wait for your husband to give you your release. Aemond stilled as he heard your once still breathing hitch and the distant and quiet sound of your wetness. He turned to the bed and saw as your back was arched, and your fingers disappeared to pleasure your cunt. 

He took large strides only to witness you on the verge of an orgasm that he had denied you of. You groaned as Aemond took hold of your wrist, your second time being denied your release. “You’re being cruel, husband,” You whined as you stared up at your husband, a wicked glint in his eye. “Please, Aemond… I need you,” You breathed out, and all he did was hum. That was then you realized he held something in his other hand. You sat up, skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat. Aemond moved his lips to pepper kisses on the side of your neck, bitting to leave his mark as a reminder as to who you belonged to. 

“Open it,” Aemond murmured against your skin as he placed a velvet box into your hands. You frowned as he continued on to pepper kisses on your neck and down the swell of your breasts, ripping off the thin sheet you had worn. You did as he told and felt a gasp escape your lips as you saw what was inside and as his fingers pinched the bud of your tit. “W—What is this for?” You said mind befuddled as you did not know where to focus, your husband’s gift or his pleasure. “It is for you, of course.” He said plainly, took the ruby tiara into his hands, and moved to place it atop your head. Aemond grew further with need at the sight of you flushed and naked; the only thing you had on was the tiara he had commissioned for you. 

You stared up at your husband in wonder, “I— It’s lovely… thank you, but my love, I am in no position to warrant a tiara— it is rather inappropriate, do you not think?” You asked and tried your best to focus as Aemond fondled your breasts. Aemond placed open kisses onto the side of your breasts, trying to form his words. “Aemond,” You called and Feld his face to look you in the eye. You delicately took off his eye patch as his lips pursed. “What is this for?” You asked once again. 

“Do you wish to be queen?” He instead asked you, and you were rendered speechless. “Do not deny it, my heart… You were born and bred with the purpose of being queen of the seven kingdoms.” He sighed, and you tried to find your words. “Even now, you bear the duties of a Queen that Helaena cannot tend to,” He added, as you were always by his sister’s side, aiding her with her duties until she all together left the role up to you. You let out a heavy breath. “I… Sometimes I do— seeing that was my whole purpose, why I was taken out of my parents’ care and instead raised here to do what was expected of me.” You admitted and felt your heart pit as Aemond avoided your gaze. “But I’d rather have married you than be queen.” You quickly added. 

“I may have wanted the title, Aemond… but I want you more. I am perfectly content with just being your wife,” You reassured, but something in Aemond burned in anger. Anger at the gods as to why he was born the second son— anger at himself as to why he had to seek out Aegon instead of just letting him escape. You sighed as you rested your forehead against Aemond’s, “Do you believe me?” You questioned and waited for his reply. Aemond bit his tongue not completely believing that you were perfectly content with your station because even he was not contented. He knew envy was a lesser emotion that he must not succumb to, but it was inevitable, especially as he bore witness to how his brother squandered off the most coveted station in the kingdom. He gave a nod and connected your lips, deciding to lay the matter to rest for the moment. 

You sighed and steadied yourself as he hoisted you on his lap, moans leaving your lips as you sank down on his cock. Aemond’s breathing labored as he felt your tight cunt around his length and as your nails left traces along his back. “Oh… gods, Aemond—“ You cried as you rocked your hips, the tip of his cock hitting the perfect spot that made your back arch and your eyes rolled back in utter pleasure. Your moans filled his ears, and Aemond could only hum with satisfaction. “You sound like such a whore, little wife,” he muttered as he reached downwards to trace circles on your nubbin. You could only whine louder, too focused as you bounced on his cock and sought out your high. “Such a vision you are… bouncing on my cock and moaning out my name with a tiara on your pretty head.” 

Aemond’s other hand harshly gripped your tit as he was overwhelmed by the feel of you. “So perfect you are,” He praised, and you smirked at him through the haze of pleasure, your cunt clenching further as you had always loved when he would compliment you. “Such a perfect wife— you would have been wasted on my squandering brother.” He gritted and groaned as you clenched around him tightly and as you nodded your head in agreement. “I was meant to be yours, Aemond,” You breathed as you felt your skin alight with your nearing climax. “You’re mine… all mine.” He groaned as you came undone, your loud moans spurring his own release. “All yours,” You swore and watched as his face contorted in pleasure. 

You sighed in contentment as you lay on Aemond’s chest and as he ran his hands through your hair. “I must leave,” He suddenly cut the silence. “I must meet with Cole,” You pursed your lips. “I know.” You said, trying not to let the tone of bitterness and concern be heard. Aemond furrowed his brows as he looked down upon you. You raised your gaze to meet his, “I know you, Aemond. I know you better than I know the back of my hand— did you really think I would not figure out that you had plotted secretly with Ser Criston?” You questioned, and Aemond sighed, his heart warming further for you as you uttered such words. 

You sat upright to gain a better view of your husband, Aemond already feeling cold, as you removed yourself from his chest. “Be cautious, my love— do not be so reliant on Vhagar. Swear that you will return to me unscathed.” You implored, and Aemond leaned forward to capture your lips. When your lips parted, whatever tenderness you had was hidden behind your serious and threatening expression, urging your husband to be cautious and vigilant. “You will not make me a widow at only nine and ten, Aemond.” You said, voice overly serious and gaze scorching, but your husband still had the gall to laugh. “I wouldn’t dare to, my heart.” He said and captured your lips once more to seal his oath that he would return to you unharmed. 

The whispers of vipers were deafening. ‘The king was slain,’ they would say. And murmurs had spread that the fall of the king was not caused by the Queen Who Never Was but rather by the One-Eyed Prince. You had stewed in silence as you could not possibly fathom what had happened. The only thing that had kept you sane was a single letter that came from your husband stating that he was well and would fly back and return to you in a day or two. 

You stood in the gardens alone as you pondered upon the whispers spreading around the keep when you felt strong hands wrap around your frame and lips pressing kisses upon your neck. Your tense frame momentarily turned lax at the touch of your husband. “I have missed you, my heart,” He said softly and tried to capture your lips— for him, a week was far too long not to be in your presence. Suspicion rose in you as you heard elation in his voice— elation that was rarely present in him. You turned and saw satisfaction glinting in Aemond’s eye. “What has happened?” You questioned, a sickening feeling in your stomach as your intuition told you that there was something afoot. 

Aemond frowned at the seriousness on your face. “We had won the battle— we had effectively cut off Dragonstone by land, my plan proven effective.” He said, dipping down to try and capture your lips, but you backed away, your movements sending a tinge to Aemond’s heart. “What has happened to Aegon?” You whispered and saw how quickly the satisfaction in your husband’s eye disappeared. “The king was inexperienced in battle— he fought against the qualms of his council, and now he reaps the consequences.” You shook your head as you studied each expression of your husband. “Who had caused his injuries? They are whispering that it was not made by Rhaenys but rather by his own brother… tell me the truth of it, Aemond.” 

Your husband sighed, stirring you to the side, away from prying eyes and ears. “It was an unfortunate incident… but it was a necessary one. The end justifies the means, my heart. You must know this.” He whispered, hoping to see understanding in your eyes, but he could only see horror. Your mind spun at the words your husband said; you felt bile rising to your throat because, within a blink of an eye, you scarcely recognized the man before you— the man you had spent your whole life with, unrecognisable. Aemond felt his heart sink as you shook your head and removed his hold on you, hastily running away from him.  

He knew what he had done was cruel— treasonous, but it was for the greater good. He could not watch idly as his brother commanded the throne even though he was unfit to rule. He could not stand to watch as Aegon squandered away his birthright and made their cause’s claim weak. It was a last resort that he had to succumb to— a last resort to save their faction and to prove himself worthy of you. Your words haunted him; the way you admitted that a part of you wished to be queen and the image of you wearing a tiara of rubies burned into his mind. He had to make it a reality. He needed to be king and have you by his side as his queen.  

You avoided your husband the following days, unable to comprehend what he had somehow become. You had always known he had great ambitions—you would lie if you said that you had not encouraged his, for you as well had your own—but you never meant for it to come to this. You never thought of the possibility that Aemond would kill for the throne. For revenge, yes, but certainly not for his own brother’s station. 

It was the day of Ser Criston’s return when you finally revealed yourself to Aemond. Standing by his side along with his mother as you three peered down on the few soldiers returning from battle, along with a cart that housed the fallen king who was clinging to life. You stared head-on as you felt the questioning and almost spiteful stare of the Queen Mother towards your husband. Not an ounce of remorse was shown by Aemond as he proudly wore the Valyrian steel dagger. 

The queen walked off, ready to meet her firstborn son, and you moved to follow, but your husband took hold of your upper arm and forced you to look upon him. “How long will you ignore me, little wife?” He hummed, growing impatient with each day of your ignorance of him. You stayed quiet, unable to meet his gaze. It was torture for you as well— you had missed your husband greatly, but the guilt you felt by his actions, which you knew were partly because of you, was greater. You long tried to hide your disappointment as you were not made queen; you thought it cruel that they had taken you away from the arms of your mother moments after your birth just to be raised in the keep and groomed to be the perfect and dotting wife of a king and take it all away with just one notion. 

All those years of effort and sacrifices were wasted. But you did not dwell on it further as they presented Aemond to be your husband instead. You knew he believed you and your family see him as a consolation prize— and for your house, he was, but for you, you would gladly trade away all the gold in your house’s coffers and the crown for Aemond. You had loved him ever since you two were children; you were intended for Aegon, but your heart had always longed for his younger brother. It was a shame that he could not see it until now. 

It was flattering that he tried to prove himself to you— that he says he does not deserve you, but you could never agree to such sentiments because you knew in yourself that you were meant to be his. It pains you that whatever you say, whatever you do to reassure him that you are happy and content in his arms, even without the prestige of titles, he still does not believe you. 

Aemond felt his heart twist further as you shook your head and walked off. He followed you quietly as you two ventured to the chambers of the king to bear witness to the price of ambition. You could not will yourself to walk in; the distant sight of Aegon filled with burns, clinging to life, along with his death rattle breathing, was enough for you to flee away. Aemond watched as you stumbled through the halls, unable to bear the sight of what he had done. It was only then did Aemond felt guilt. Not guilt for what he had done to his brother but guilt as he saw your reaction— it was only then did he realized that the weight of his actions would affect his lady-wife as well. 

It was sundown when your uncle sought you out. Telling you what had transpired in the small council and how Aemond was named Prince Regent. He as well questioned you as to what you knew about the battle in Rook’s Rest and if your husband had confided in you any secrets, as all who had returned from the battlefield kept a tight lip. You said not a word. Your loyalty to your husband has proven to be greater than your guilt for Aegon’s state. 

“Greatly unfortunate as the events were… I must say that the council and I are relieved that your husband shall see to the concerns of the Realm.” Your uncle muttered, and you sat stiffly in your seat. “Really?” You asked in a small voice. “King Aegon might be the firstborn, but all are aware that Aemond has the tact to rule. Let us pray that he would lead our side to victory— his brother certainly cannot.” He sighed as he stood, kissing your cheek as he exited your private chambers, leaving you to ponder on his words. 

A storm came at night, and you could not find rest as your husband was not by your side. The rain and thunder always made you uneasy, and at times like these, you greatly relied on Aemond for comfort. You walked the path to your marital chambers and peeked inside, only to see your husband was absent. You walked along the cold halls of the keep, searching for Aemond in his usual spots, but to no avail. Your feet carried you to the great hall, and there you found him, staring upon the iron throne. You bit your lip as you studied him, staring at the prize of his efforts. 

Aemond felt a presence join him, and he turned his gaze and was met with you. “Was it worth the price?” You questioned, a steely look on his face as he thought over your words. You stood still as your husband took slow strides towards you. “If it proves me worthy of you, then it does.” You let out a breath as he said the words. “Aemond… how many times must I repeat myself— you do not need to prove yourself to me. I— I love you unconditionally. I do not need the throne or a crown… can you still not see that all I want is you?” 

Aemond cupped your cheek, and you leaned into his touch. “What’s done is done. We need not dwell on this matter, my heart. What is important is that we got what we wanted— we finally have what we deserve.” He whispered, lips flying towards yours. You felt weak as your lips entangled with your husband’s. “This… this is not right.” You whispered as his kisses trailed down to your neck and to the valley of your breasts, his fingers slipping off the shift you wore, leaving you standing bare in the middle of the throne room. “What is not right is that our efforts and potential are wasted as those who are unfit for the title, rule. We were made for the throne, my heart… stop resisting it; you know it is the truth.” 

You breathed heavily as you watched your husband fall to his knees, and his lips kissed your cunny. “Admit what you want, my heart.” His voice muffled against your skin, your hands moving to grip his hair and steady yourself as his tongue drew circles upon your cunt. You feel him grip your thighs, urging you to speak. “You… I want you.” You cried, desperately writhing your cunt against his face. “And?” He questioned, and you tilted your head back, your climax quick to come as your body ached for your husband’s touch. “To be queen… I want you and be queen,” You admitted with a gasp as you felt his tongue enter your dripping core. Aemond smirked against your cunt; his body fueled with need as he tasted your essence. When you came undone, he greedily licked and lapped any remnants of your release, not at all conscious that you two may be caught in such compromising situations. 

You watched through the haze of your release as your husband stood and undid his trousers. Your gaze followed him as he stood behind you and slipped in his length; your loud, surprised moan echoed through the empty hall and was accompanied by the clap of thunder. You cried as Aemond mercilessly pounded into your cunt, your dazed gazes planted on the throne. You gasped for air as Aemond wrapped his calloused hand around your throat and urged you to rest your weight on his leather-covered chest; all the while, his thrusts were relentless. “Are you to come? Are you to come before the throne, my wife?” He taunted in your ear, biting the lobe, and you could only cry in pleasure, your body arching and your hips meeting each of his thrusts. “Yes… yes!” You cried as his other hand returned to its usual torment and drew circles upon your cunt. 

You threw your head back upon Aemond’s shoulders as you were met with your second release. With a few more thrusts, you feel him come undone, his seed filling your cunt, and he could only hope that it would finally take, for he surely needed heirs. Aemond turned your head to face his and kissed your lips, finally feeling a speck of calm in his raging being, for he knew he had secured the station that you both deserved. 

As you two tried to relish in the calm brought by your climaxes, outside the great hall, the castle was in an uproar as the king drew in his last breath. Men searching for the prince regent to inform him of the dire news. They scoured every corner of the castle and soon found their new king seated on the iron throne with his queen bouncing on his cock, Aemond fucking her in their rightful place.

[blue-mood-blue]

I have been thinking about the blackening (as one does)…

…and it’s so interesting to me, the penalty Shen Qingqiu is faced with should he not decide to yeet his disciple into hell.

Account termination. Instant death. Sent directly home to his already-long-dead body, and that’s it for the villain of the piece who outright refuses his villainy. The protagonist needs a blackening for the story to continue, and Shen Qingqiu is going to provide it or get written out of the narrative. Either way, Luo Binghe is going to lose him. Either way, this is a turning point.

I wouldn’t claim that this is the intent of the penalty, but it fascinates me that the System has, potentially, backed the plotline into a corner - because Binghe still stands to be blackened even if Shen Qingqiu took the other choice.

Think about what that would look like, to him. He’s at the Immortal Alliance Conference, and everything is going wrong. He’s been outed as a demon, and not just a demon - the top tier of demon, as bad as it gets from the perspective of a righteous cultivator. His beloved teacher, the person who has been kindest to him and opened his home and heart to him, is standing there with his sword in hand, deciding what he’s going to do about what must look, to him, like a horrific betrayal. Binghe is apologizing. Binghe is begging for his life.

Shen Qingqiu hears him. Maybe it shows on his face, or in his voice, that he already knew; maybe there’s no hint at all, but Shen Qingqiu is suddenly talking quickly with an abrupt sense of urgency that Luo Binghe is having a hard time keeping up with. Telling him he’ll be wonderful - telling him he’s the best. Telling him the world will be his, with emotions cracking through that aloof mask that Binghe has never seen on Shizun’s face before, and it’s terrifying for reasons that Binghe cannot identify.

(He will, later. When he has time to think, he’ll realize it sounded like a goodbye.)

And then Shen Qingqiu is bleeding. And then Shen Qingqiu is on the ground. And then Shen Qingqiu is dead. There’s no countdown for Binghe - there’s no System, there’s no warning, there’s no answers.

Luo Binghe is a heavenly demon in the middle of a conference sabotaged by demons. Luo Binghe is alone. His fellow competing disciples are scattered, some dead or injured. The Peak Lord of Qing Jing Peak, the second in command of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, maybe the only person he loved and who loved him back, is dead at his feet. No one will believe him if he says it isn’t his fault.

(He can’t believe it isn’t his fault.)

What choice does he have but to run? The last heavenly demon the cultivation world went up against has been sealed under a mountain for years, and one of the people responsible for that is probably looking for Shen Qingqiu already. They’ll be looking for him, too. There isn’t anywhere to hide; there isn’t any time to mourn.

There isn’t even enough time to ask why. Why again.

There is no closure waiting for him, because there is nothing to explain what happened. It just is.

It would be a different kind of blackening, certainly - less intense, probably, less of a warping, desperate thing. But how many times can one person have all the love and safety in their world torn out from under them before it starts to show? Before they just don’t allow things like love and safety to touch them, because that’s the better option?

Interesting to consider that, simply by offering the choices it did, the System rigged the story to guarantee that Luo Binghe would end up in hell (deliberate or not).

Interesting to consider that, even if Shen Qingqiu made what might have seemed like a kinder choice, there was every chance it wouldn’t have been.

[n-i-m-u-e]

The fucking cat! pt. 1 (pt. 2) The story of how Luke found a true friend in the captivity of the Red Keep, and Aemond found another enemy

Cursing through his teeth, Aemond furiously slammed the door to Lucerys' quarters and clutched the deep, bleeding scratch on the back of his hand. He decided to ignore the muffled laughter coming from behind that door. Fucking hell, Aemond hated that bloody beast! It was just absurd, but yes, among those he considered his personal nemesis was a cat. What's more, Aemond was sure that the cat considered him his nemesis too

Having supported his grandfather's idea to fill the castle with cats instead of the rat catchers Aegon had executed, he thought it was a good idea. After all, there were no negative aspects - the cats didn't demand payment, couldn't spy for the enemy, and generally couldn't do any harm, except maybe scratch the tapestries. How, damn it, he was wrong!

The first time he'd seen the creature was in the garden when he'd gone in search of his nephew and sister. Not that he had any urgency to do so, but Helaena and the boy had become too close lately and he… had to keep an eye on things. As he walked past the old apple tree, he heard a low, threatening sound, and when he looked around, he saw a shaggy, reddish beast that could only be considered a domestic cat in name only. The animal was large and looked completely wild, and it had only one eye. Aemond hummed and continued on his way, ignoring that the cat was still making its frightening noises. If only he had known then, he would have slashed this fur demon with his sword, without remorse.

The second time he met the monster was in his nephew's chambers, when he came to check that the boy was all rig… meaning that he was not up to something naughty or stupid. After all, Aemond knew better than anyone how well the little bastard could cause trouble. His hands were full because that morning the servants had made another mistake and added plum cake to Aemond's breakfast, even though he always skipped dessert. So, just to save the food, he decided to give it to the boy. Especially since kid seemed very thin, and they didn't want rumors to spread in court that they were starving Lucerys. He also had a book about the Lorathi mazemakers, a rare item from his own collection, but that was nothing, he just wanted to keep the boy busy and less thinking about various tricks. So, when he entered the room, he didn't have time to react and cover his head when something furry, with long claws and absolutely fierce attacked him from somewhere above. Aemond could only turn his face away a little, put his left half up, and be 'glad' that his eye was already gone.

'Sir Pam!'

His nephew's worried voice slightly distracted the beast from trying to tear at Aemond's face, and Aemond could throw the rabid thing off him.

'Uncle, what are you doing? Careful, don't be so rough, you've scared him enough!'

Aemond blinked his eyes in shock. The only eye he had miraculously saved, by the way.

'Scared it? This creature has decided to finish your life's work and rob me of my vision for ever.'

'Poor Sir Pam, he's just a bit nervous, he's been through a lot and needs to be treated with care.'

'Sir Pam?'

Aemond looked at the ferocious cat, who was now crawling under the chair and hissing angrily.

'Well, I mean Sir Pumpkin. He's so ginger and cute, doesn't he look like a pumpkin?'

‘More like a demon from the seventh hell’ Aemond wanted to reply, but he refrained, noticing how admiringly his nephew was looking at the cat. Lucerys, usually so gloomy, was wearing such a lovely smile on his face that he didn't want to escalate the conflict, especially since what did a few minor scratches mean to a grown man and a warrior? Aemond didn't even feel anything.

What Aemond didn't realise is that this was only the very beginning. For from then on, whenever he visited his nephew, for the purely practical purpose of control of course, the Beast was there, and it was out for Aemond's blood. Lucerys just shrugged his shoulders and assured him that Sir Pam (for the love of the fucking gods!) was ‘a polite and gentle kitty’ and that Aemond just scares him. Aemond could have argued about who was scaring whom, but then he remembered what he was and why he couldn't be afraid of some flea-bitten thing.

The turning point occurred when one night, Aemond woke up with an odd weight on his chest. Opening an eye, he met the glowing eye of a demon in the darkness. The cat was standing on him, pawing at him with its needle-like claws. Deciding that he had finally had enough, Aemond jerked the blanket off and, disregarding the cat's crazed mewing, wrapped the animal in it like a sack. He would have it drowned by the first servant he met. No! He would drown the creature himself, personally, to make sure! And he would have done so, for certain, but for the memory of Lucerys gently caressing and murmuring to the cat. And then, so inappropriately, he felt shame. Aemond sighed heavily and changed his route.

It was late at night and there was no one around except the guards. But Aemond did not care.

When he entered Lucerys' chambers without knocking, he was awake. Irritated, Aemond threw his rolled-up blanket on the bed, from which a tousled animal jumped out and dashed into a dark corner. Aemond pointed his finger in that direction and barked:

'It! It was in my room!'

'Oh' only managed to say the stunned Luke.

'I should have drowned it!'

Luke remained silent, but Aidan noticed that his nephew's eyes were beginning to shine suspiciously moist. He shook his head and sighed. His temper had suddenly evaporated.

'I didn't do it' he said calmly to the boy.

Luke nodded, opened his mouth as if to say something, but instead suddenly sobbed. Oh, no… no, no, no! But the dam had already burst, and Lucerys began to cry uncontrollably, clutching his shoulders.

Aemond was not ready for this. He stood there in his nightgown, in the middle of his little nephew's room, who was a hostage guest, and he felt like a completely fool. Now he even wanted the cat to scratch him as hard as he could, if only it would make Lucerys stop crying.

'I didn't. And I won't.'

He hesitantly approached Luke. The boy shook his head and spoke through his tears:

'I… it's just… Pammy's like the only good thing here. I can't see Arrax, I can't leave, you're at war with mom and I… '

And that's when Aemond really recognised that he had completely screwed up. He really needed to bite his tongue to keep from blurting out something about how he would fix it. Seeing his nephew in tears and suffering had once been almost a cherished dream for him, but now the sight of it only made something painfully tighten in his own chest.

Without allowing himself to analyse his own actions, Aemond crossed the small distance between them and covered Luke in his arms. The boy didn't resist, only sobbed wetly and hugged him even closer, causing his heart to skip a beat.

Fucking cat! Aemond had fallen irrevocably in love with Lucerys Velarion, and it was all the fault of the fucking cat!

[lavenderhoneytarotco]

✨Pick a Pile Reading🔮✨

What do you need to hear right now? What has been Spirit been trying to tell you? What have you been ignoring?

(from left to right)

Look at the images above, take a moment and feel which one resonates with you the most. That is your pile!

Ready? Here we go!

Pile One:

- VIII of Swords (Reversed)

- III of Cups (Reversed)

- VI of Wands (Reversed)

- VII of Swords

You have more power than you think you do in the situation that you find yourself in currently. In fact, much of your troubles could be that of your own making, due to overindulgence (because there is such a thing as too much of a good thing) or it’s more so your own fears and anxieties clouding your vision of reality. Reclaim your personal power, and most importantly enjoy your freedom! There is an energy of feeling left out and underappreciated or even disrespected for this group, by a partner or a group of friends. They may have lost interest and it’s causing issues involving loyalty. There could be gossip with a friend group, or an unfaithful partner. Or you could be the unfaithful partner. Either way, what spirit is trying to say is that you may be ignoring the fact that you have more control of the situation than you believe that you do. Maybe it’s time to be alone, reevaluate your friendships and relationships. Do they empower you? Or do they make you feel restrained? Are you doing things for validation? Spirit has been trying to tell you that maybe it’s time for some independence. Learn how to trust yourself, learn how to take care of your own needs. But you must move on from the situation that you are currently in. However, don’t do this rashly as it seems the situation is tense, and your actions could cause waves right now if not thought through entirely. Gather your information, put together a plan to move forward, and keep it close to the chest. People may not be expecting much out of you in this situation. Use this to your advantage when you make your move as they may not see it coming. Try to confront your fears and anxieties, you are capable of it, and once you do, you’ll be able to see your situation more clearly. Examine your need for validation? Is that what’s gotten you in this situation and others? Are you doing/saying things because of others' expectations? It’s time to start living for yourself. Embrace Independence.

Real Talk: This is about cheating, or a friend group being messy and you needing to get the hell out of Dodge. You’ve got to be independent bestie! The friendship and/or relationship that you are in currently is not serving you. You’re not being true to yourself. Could be doing things just for validation. Live for yourself! Measure success, the way you see fit. Not by how others do. Someone, you or a partner is being unfaithful. If it’s your partner, gather your evidence, don’t say a word, and then leave his/her/their ass! Leave with a bang, with that Carrie Underwood, Before He Cheats.mp3 energy. And if it’s you that’s been having a wandering eye, leave. You want to be single. You want your independence, so take it! You're not trapped in a relationship, or friendship. Nothing is really holding you back, but yourself at this point. You can walk away! You just have to want better for yourself. And when you do make the change, expect some waves. Because people aren’t expecting much from you. To be frank, they may see less of you, and don’t think you’ll stand up for yourself. Show them otherwise!

Song to Inspire: Stand Down by Little Mix

Pile Two:

- IX of Pentacles

- The Emperor

- V of Cups (Reversed)

- VIII of Swords (Reversed)

For this group, there is a feeling of loneliness, and almost disappointment. You’ve accomplished something that you’ve been working hard to get towards, maybe even sacrificing some comfort or peace to get there. And now you may be questioning whether or not it was all worth it, as you may feel lonely. But how you view your situation is up to you! Surround yourself with positivity right now, maybe reach out to a friend. Or be open to an old friend, (or even lover) coming back into your life. Give them a chance! Things are different now. You have grown, you’re becoming your own person as you establish yourself in this world, and now is a perfect time to set aside and work through old misunderstandings and hurt feelings, as you can think through things with a rational mind right now. Don’t let others make you feel guilt or shame for your accomplishments either. You’ve worked hard! You made the sacrifices. Now it’s time to do some self-indulgence (in moderation of course) and some self care! One theme that seems pretty strong here as well is that of giving yourself some grace. See your mistakes as something to help you grow, rather than things that define who you are.

Real Talk: Girlie pop, it’s time to take a deep breath, and enjoy the fruits of our labor. Relax babes! Yes, be responsible, of course. No, don’t do anything out of character. But you need to let loose. Let your hair down. It’s time to stop putting restrictions on yourself. You’ve done that long enough, to get to where you need to be, and now that you are here it’s time to let go of some things as they may not serve you any longer. Allow yourself to grow, and evolve.

Song to Inspire: Fly Girl by FLO (feat. Missy Elliot)

Pile Three:

- Page of Cups (Reversed)

- V of Swords

- III of Swords

- II of Wands (Reversed)

The energy is tense in this group. It’s a situation where you are both a victim and also a perpetrator of your own demise. There seems to be a lot of self - destructive behaviors happening. It may be time to set aside your pride, admit your wrongs and limitations and apologize, or ask for forgiveness. It’s time to do some self reflection, examine your insecurities. Once you know them, you’ll be able to decipher if and when your feelings are proportionate to reality. That being said, You have been ignoring your intuition about something or someone and it’s only doing you harm. There is someone around you that does not deserve your trust at the moment. In fact there could be a relationship/friendship with someone that you are looking to bring to a close. If this is the case it’s crucial that you watch your approach, think about how you end things, you don’t want to burn bridges. Think of the consequences and plan accordingly. There is also a sense of clinging onto power. Or a power struggle of some kind, between you and someone else, maybe let it go. It’s a burden that you don’t need. What you need is to heal.

Real Talk: Girl….leave that man. I’m going to be honest this is giving love reading and it’s giving a very toxic relationship. Or a friendship. But like I said you already know its bad. You’re being delu-lu babes! Cut it out! You need to be realistic okay, admit your wrongs, apologize and fucking heal! You need to, and deep down you want to. You have an idea as to what causes you to act the way you do, what your triggers are, but you’ve been actively sabotaging yourself. You're not living up to your full potential, and because you're living in delu-lu land, you don’t even realize that there is someone around you that doesn’t deserve your trust.

Song to Inspire: Not My Job by FLO

[bowieandqueen11]

Seductress / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: Hi i was wondering if you could do an izzy x reader where lucius purposely tries to make izzy jealous (it works btw) the rest is up to you also could the reader have gender neutral pronouns so everyone can share the fun! Thank you for fueling the hyperfixation fire! Lots of love 💕

Aww lovely that's so kind of you, thank you!! I love writing Lucius being a little shit (affectionate) towards Izzy lmao we love a flirty bestie!

Warning: Nothing too graphic but NSFW, some sexual innuendos and some strong language!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @dizzy-izzy-hands.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

You should have known rightly from that tell-tale smirk that Lucius had nothing good planned.

The man had barely been able to sit still all day. He seemed to have taken it upon himself to be as much of a nuisance as possible: must have unwrapped himself from Black Pete's arms that morning, sat up with wide stretching arms and a smile as ferocious as the jaded depths of Davy Jones' locker itself as he decided, with an assertive nod to the rest of the crew, to cause as much mischief as he could that day.

After all, Lucius, the king of pickpocketing, was more than acute at spotting stolen glances from miles away. Of noting darting looks; that morning, as he had sipped his orange juice and observed Izzy over the rim of his glass, it hadn't escaped his notice how he had almost- god, so he had been so close to not losing his nerve. He had warbled, almost swaying from side to side as Izzy plundered the depths of his mind to try and find the courage to sit and have breakfast on your other side, but as soon as you had raised your eyes curiously to see what he had been doing, he jolted back as if electrocuted and scurried off back to the deck. Lucius' sigh had been frustrated enough to blow bubbles of juice out and splatter them onto your already scowling face.

Nor had he missed the lingering wistfulness shrouding Izzy's eyes that same afternoon: the way he had watched you from the rigging of the Revenge, clinging onto the rope as if for dear life any time you passed him by. From helping Roach roll more barrels of dried meat down into the kitchen, or nearly keeling yourself over the edge of the ship to avoid Edward and Stede's impromptu sword fighting lesson, Izzy had been almost... calm. Placated? Silent? Bashful, Lucius thought, as he had watched the man's fist squeeze so tightly into a ball he thought the leather might tear down the seams right there and then. With a hand on his hip and a huff in your direction, Lucius was getting incredibly fed up of being the only one to notice how bashfully Izzy tried to look anywhere else when your eyes met. How your voice cracked when he had come sliding up to you, hammer looking quite menacing as he thumped it against his palm and asked you why you had made it your life's work to cross Izzy's line of vision any time you could.

'This has been going on for weeeeeks, when are you two just going to stop pretending you don't want to slam each other into the wall until you're gasping for air every time you see each other', he had groaned, throwing his head back and trying to beckon Wee John over to give his concerns some backing. The man, too busy sewing a hole in his trousers back together, and having enough sense to fear for his life with the way Izzy was glaring daggers his way, quickly shook his head and buried it back down in the mottled fabric.

'I have no idea what you're talking about', you had replied curtly, effectively ending the conversation. Even if he had flared his nostrils and thwacked you teasingly over the head with the long edge of his sleeve, a blind man would have been able to see the glimmer in your eye as you looked hopefully in Izzy's direction.

No, this man really did not miss a thing. And it was beginning to drive you insane.

Thankfully, he had been gracious enough to already warn you ahead of time about his brand new spanking plan to get this idiot of a first mate to admit his feelings for you. About how, once Stede had informed the crew that they would be stopping off on a little island called 'Tangerine Grove' during the sunset, so he and Ed could have their daily constitutional through the silver gleams cast by pale tree light only the rock hidden away behind the tip of Blindman's Cove could bring, a lightbulb had gone off in Lucius' head.

Which is how you had ended up here: shivering under the growing violet wisps of dusk that splattered the spring sky, sitting alone along an unfamiliar stretch of beach, wishing you could rescind your acceptance of Lucius' excited plan and instead go join your friends as they ran, barefoot, through the wet grains and wrestled each other into the waves. Only Izzy was still standing apart, looking entirely uncomfortable as he rubbed his jaw against his shoulder. Without even realising, he found his heel to be tapping a thousand miles per minute upon the ground: a horrid itching sensation spiking its way up his legs as he tried his best to look nonchalantly towards the dipping curve of the sun. To look anywhere else apart from at you. God, he fucking hated the way you made him feel so... fragile. So stunted. Even Edward had encouraged him that morning to try and express his lingering feelings to you, but a harrowing hatred had pierced his heart and caged the words from escaping their writhing chambers.

Hatred at how foolish he felt running away. Hatred at how Edward teased him, despite seeming like a lovesick idiot for a stupid twat that would be seem like shit scraped off the bottom of his boot compared to you. Hatred at how vulnerable he felt. Hatred for himself. For how he had been the harbinger of his own ruination. How, in the end, his misery was no one's fault but his own.

'Well now', Lucius enunciates in a sing song voice, clucking his tongue at the end. You almost jump out of your skin as he appears before you, drawn away from watching Izzy's face contort in flashes of fury as Lucius' torso replaces your view. His furrowed brow and pursed lips almost endue him with a sage like intensity, as he dips his head and shoots you an almost sympathetic frown.

He waggles his eyebrows as he perches down on the cragged rocks lining the shoreline next to you. 'What do we have here, then? Little Y/n, sitting here on this god forsaken rock with stupid arse over there too emotionally gagged to come keep you company. How tragic. Do you think the stick up his bum stops him from walking over here? Or maybe it's-'

'Lucius, you really don't have to do this.' You grab onto his arm, almost pleading with him through the frantic batting of your eyelashes, but Lucius just pats your fingers and intertwines them within his own. Laying your hands on his lap, he cocks his head and carefully strokes a path down your knuckles.

'Anything for my bestie', he winks, before glancing rather conspicuously behind his shoulder to trace Izzy's path. 'Besides, if that man doesn't just admit his feelings, one of us is going to end up kicking him up the arse. And as much as I would love that to be me, I want one of my favourite people in the whole world to be happy more. Trust me, I’m fantastic at forcing two knobheaded people to admit their true feelings for each other.'

’Oi, I'm not a kno-’, you try to retort with a roll of your eyes, but are stopped short by Lucius grabbing the bottom of your chin like crab pincers digging into your skin, and has already turned your face so your nose is lined up directly with his mouth.

'You know, it's been a long time since I sketched you.' His fingers dart up your face, walking their way up your cheek until Lucius brushed his knuckles back down to your jawline. 'If you like', he leans closer to you and purses his lips, 'we could fill the rest of Stede's journal right up.' He makes sure his voice is loud enough - sultry enough, that even Roach perks his head up from where he's laying starfish on the shoreline.

There we go.

Bingo.

A muscle in Izzy's tense jaw jumps: a minute twitch, but enough to let a far too smug looking Lucius know that he's on the right track.

'Or if that's not your jam, I know something else we can do', he leans in closer so his lips move against the shell of your ear with each word, and despite yourself your back rolls with shivers at the warm blows against your inner ear. 'Roach clued me in to some hidden compartments Stede had built into the ship. No more audience - just us, if you catch my drift', he finishes with an accentuating wink and kiss to the back of your hand.

The sound of a high pitched whistling even made Frenchie and the Swede pause their scuttling in the dirt for starfish, whipping their heads under their arms and burying themselves in the sand as they waited for the cannon fire to land. Nothing came, though. Instead, the sound only grew louder... and louder... until everyone was glancing uneasily up at the puffy clouds, waiting for a cleft to appear through the weaving pink breeze.

Only you and Lucius knew to look inland, rather than up at the heavens.

And there he stood: the incoming hit. The seething tempest. The washed up wreck.

The poor man was already fuming. If he bit his tongue an inch harder, the blood would begin to pour out of the corners of the man's mouth as if he had willingly swallowed arsenic, and was allowing it to fester in the recesses of his heart. Anything, anything would be better than letting it tremble. So blood it is. Down the poison willingly goes.

You would have been able to hear the sigh that blew out from Izzy’s flaring nostrils from the crow’s nest. Forget that: you’d be able to feel the burning steam radiating off his near vibrating body from the next continent. With each passing second Izzy could feel his heart decaying in pulsing oozes through his chest cavity. And with every smile, every lingering brush of someone else's fingers on your skin, the rot residing in his soul became that little bit more mutilating. The touch of Lucius' pointer finger against your cupid's bow finally goaded his insides to slither out in a body wracking convulsion: his heart finally mouldering out through the corner of his eyes in snaking tendrils.

He finds his feet pounding across the horizon before the rational part of his brain could try to keep up. Lucius barely has time to register the swarm of black buzzing in front of his face before claws have dug into his striped shirt and have hoisted him up like a ragdoll. The feel of Izzy's teeth baring against his nose is enough even to make Lucius' head recoil.

'Get your fucking little, dirty, clawed rat hands the fuck away from them.' Izzy spits at Lucius' boots, content only when the man grimaced and took a hop backwards and away from his lacerating fingers.

'What's your problem, Dizzy Izzy', Lucius hisses back, hunching down onto his haunches and resting his hands treacherously on your shoulders: far too close, as he squeezes you reassuringly. Too damn fucking close, for Izzy's taste. 'Just because it's not your fingers, doesn't mean you have to be so jealous. We don't own each other on this ship. If you're interested, all you have to do is say.'

'Who says I'm fucking jealous', he tries to shrug, but his voice is strained. Wracked. He's obviously trying to stop himself melting to your feet and placating himself at your shrine right there and then, ready to die under your heel.

Izzy glances uncertainly along the ground, doing his best to seem as straight laced as usual, but growing more and more discourteous in his manner at the way Lucius grins at his growing discomfort. 'Oh come on, you wouldn't mind if Y/n and I headed back to the ship right now, right? After all, Dizzy Izzy doesn't get jealous. He wouldn't care if he could hear screaming coming from-'

'You shut your fucking mouth.' He shoves a thick finger into Lucius' chest, nearly toppling over himself trying to get his arm in to separate the man from your back.

'Or what?', Lucius replies, trying to keep his grip by your neck while also trying to bat off Izzy's slicing hands. He manages to pull back and wring his hand out right before Izzy bared his teeth and took a chunk out of it. 'What are you going to do, Izzy? Give me a lashing? I'm sure you'd love to do that to Y/n. Or maybe for them to do that to you - I've always known you were a mas-'

'You little. Fucking. Tease.' Despite the ferocity of his words as he spits them out from his serpent tongue, the tenderness of his fingers as he reaches down to grip your wrist surprises you. He tugs you up, taking a step around your body as if to shield you from the gratified smirk Lucius is radiating.

'I could destroy you, you know, and everyone would thank me for it. Because that's what you do, isn't it?' He was trying his best to sound as bratty as possible, but there was an almost imperceptible shake in his fingers as he tightened his grip on your wrist. 'A proper little seductress. Using and destroying perfect things.'

'Perfect?', you whisper out from behind his back, your hand coming up to touch your lips as if you could taste the sweetness dripping off the word. Izzy's brows furrow as he curses himself. Fuck. He's fucking done it now. What kind of sap will you think he is? Standing there with knees nearly knocking before you, some kind of fucking pirate with his squeaky voice and thumb circling delicate paths along your wrist.

'Do you really mean that?', you ask, the eagerness in your tone enough to make Izzy's breath falter in the back of his throat. He nearly chokes on it, but finds just enough to pant out the truest words left in his rotten body.

'I... meant, what I said.'

You flash your eyes toward him in surprise, but the man is already staring directly at you. What you were surprised about though, were the tears that were shrouding the usual piercing glare of his irises. He looked almost… childlike. Mythical. Almost pitiable, standing on the long stretch of mist, feet crushing into the grains of sand as if he were willing himself to stay anchored, to not fade away with his tears into the spray of mist.

A man strung up by the tendrils of heart, doomed to stay wanting, waiting, fading into the rays of light.

It was almost phantasmal. And as you used your free hand to cup Izzy's cheek, it was almost enough for him to trick him into believing that he was alive again.

Even Lucius’ mouth drops down into a surprised ‘oh’ as a lone tear manages to tear a ragged path down the first mate’s sullen cheek.

He snorts, raising his eyes to the piercing blue skyline and trying to blink the tears back past his eyelashes. It's when the whining starts: the soft, pitiable howls of a kicked man being held for the first time of his life, that the patchwork mould surrounding what's left of Israel Hands' inner sanctum begins to crack away. He burrows himself into the warm, welcoming palm of your hand, allowing the water to flow over the bud of his nose.

Before your feet could even register that they were moving, Izzy has dragged you away from Lucius and into the shade of a nearby orange tree. A few fireflies began to peek their heads out from between the stout leaves at the disturbance: like honey dripping down from bowed boughs, brushing kindly against Izzy's glowing cheeks and making him seem almost saint-like as they gathered around his head. The sound of your shipmates begins to blur into the distance as the singing is replaced by the wretched pants of Izzy's breath.

He slams your back against the curved bark of the tree, sliding his boots in front of yours and leaning his body over you, effectively trapping you between the scratchy bark and the heaving muscle of his abdomen. You shiver, unsure if it's due to the champagne bubbles lapping their way towards your bare feet, or the feel of Izzy raising the wrist he's almost bruising above your head, no longer trying to hide the fact he's holding you in place against his body.

'Why do you stay around such unsavoury characters.' The bastard bares his teeth at you. God, he was enjoying this far too much. Enjoying raising his knee until the bone nearly kneaded against your groin. Enjoying using his free hand to grip onto your jaw just as Lucius had done, but far needier. He digs into your skin as he tilts your head back, and you can feel his smirk branding it’s way into the bare strip of skin between the nape or your neck and the hollow of your earlobe as he leans down to whisper: 'A fine creature such as yourself should be careful of deranged creatures like that. They slink out of the depths like demons. So perverse.'

Fucker makes sure to run his lips from your shoulder blade right up to your pulse point first, though.

'You should thank me for saving you from his depravity.'

'Oh of course', you begin to smile, playing along with his little fable. His little knight in shining armour tale, so he didn't break apart so easily. 'I have to thank you. You've been watching me for a while, haven't you? Taking care of me from afar...', you take a chance while he's distracted breathing in your scent to dip down and nip at his earlobe.

His legs start to waver then, and with a quick reflex that had got you onto Stede’s crew in the first place, you manage to steady him with a hand placed around the firm muscle of his waist.

'I did my best to save you from that seductress.' His teeth clash against your bottom lip in an almost wantonly manner, hovering his mouth over yours. It takes almost all of his self control to seem like he’s seething as his nose pokes against yours; it takes every piercing shred of self restraint he has to not wet your bottom lip with his tongue.

As tough as he thinks he's being, he’s not incredibly subtle in his thoughts and temptations, if the way he can’t stop staring at your mouth is anything to go by. Something wild makes his eyes gloss over: a tightly leashed repression, a long tempered heartache burrowing their way out of his eyes until he can barely hold back the parasitic tears.

His mouth trembles as it falls open, 'you deserve someone proper. Someone better-', he swallows thickly, eyes darting quickly between your own and back down to your widening lips. 'Someone better than them. Someone better than me-'

He looks wonderstruck, and you can't bear just to see its ferity anymore. You have to taste it. And if the manic glint in his eye is anything to go by, Izzy is in exactly the same boat.

His words are quickly enveloped by your mouth. He gasps against your tongue, his own quivering as an overwhelming rush of pure love gushed through him like the rips of a storm. He wastes no time: afraid this was a trick, a prank, a cruel mirage, his mind still trapped in one of his restless, far too fleeting dreams. He lips frantically latch, smother, tug, overwhelm you until you can barely breathe. Can barely feel. Your eyes flicker close in bliss as he allows you a moment of respite from all his pent-up want, his all consuming need, planting a trail of open mouth kisses followed by wide planted licks down your throat.

The slide of your feet against the trim of his steadying boot is a welcome relief from the burn of Izzy's hand as he grips onto your waist like a man possessed. His fingers clench, nearly lifting your lower half up to grind against his abdomen, stopping himself only at the last second and lowering you back down into his unforgiving grip.

You almost gasp when you feel your name roll of his tongue and reverberate through your neck in a hoarse moan. He tries to subdue his embarrassment by finally... finally reaching up and lacing the fingers clawing at your wrist within your own. If he wasn't too busy devouring the bare stretch of skin between your neck and your breast, Izzy perhaps might have felt embarrassed by the way his pelvis was bucking up wildly, leather slapping lewdly up against your inner thigh.

But he isn't embarrassed. He doesn't feel anything at all, except for a coursing rush of life flow through his veins for the first time in years.

He crumbles against you, surprisingly gentle as he claws and kneads and mewls into you, his lips dragging down and over to the side of your jaw now with quick, tempered nicks. His hand lets go of yours to trail down your inner palm, a shit eating grin branding its way into your chest as it traces down your arm, and then quickly falls so both hands are squeezing tightly into the meat of your waist. He bites down at your skin, incisors almost drawing blood against your pec. He swipes his tongue against the cut in apology, sucking against the skin as his trousers bounce up and tighten at the sound of you mewling. You scramble your free hand onto his shoulder to try and keep yourself in place, the man ravishing you so forcefully the tips of your toes could barely touch the ground.

Your full weight is resting on his torso, happy to let yourself flop over his shoulders and allow easier access for him to litter hickeys along the sinews of your throat. He does so gladly, making sure on his way to lift his hands and move them to slap down on your buttocks with a squeeze that leaves you reeling.

You're too busy whimpering at the feel of Izzy's inner thigh beginning to bulge against your crotch to feel the sting, his leather trousers beginning to tent in an uncomfortable way that made his biceps squirm as he wrapped them around your back. To mask the sharp barks that he begins to whine, he bites onto your bottom lip and pulls it down with his teeth, until he's satisfied that his tongue has full access to delve down your throat.

You quickly pull back and glance behind Izzy's head when you hear a sing-song 'you're welcome!' and vindicated hum of Lucius receding into the distance.

For someone who saw Lucius as such a threat, Izzy Hands could be quite the little seductress himself.

[snowbellewells]

Belated Birthday Fic for @jrob64

Joni (@jrob64) this is long overdue now, and probably not worth the waiting you've done for it, but I still wanted to give you the story I wrote for your birthday. It takes place in Season 2, after Emma leaves Hook on the beanstalk, but diverges in that Hook carches up with the Savior and the rest of the Princess squad again without Cora. There's some mentioned whump and I hope plenty of hurt/comfort (since you and I both enjoy that so! ;) And I hope you'll still like it, even though it's now well past your birthday. I am so glad we are friends and that this OTP and fandom lead us to meet and get to know each other!

“Consequences”

by: @snowbellewells

The logs and twigs they’d gathered for their campfire were crackling mightily, releasing occasional pops when sap ignited, but giving off the light and heat their weary and mismatched group needed as they wordlessly gathered on a fallen stump and large rock nearby. None of the women spoke. Exhausted and worried, and still not fully trusting of each other, they merely watched as Mary Margaret spun the rabbit she’d brought back for supper on the spit they had rigged up over the fire and listened as Mulan finished assembling the tent they’d soon crawl into once they had eaten at last.

This wilderness was about the furthest thing from an “Enchanted” Forest that Emma could have conjured in her naive 21st century mind, but she was simply too drained to point out the irony to either her mother - she wasn’t even ready to apply that term to her friend and roommate yet - or honest-to-goodness freaking Sleeping Beauty. And it didn’t help that she kept hearing Hook’s voice echoing in her ears, the hurt and shocked betrayal in his tone - and in those dangerously expressive eyes - as he’d pled with her, ‘Have I told you a lie? Why do this to me now?’ She had the sinking feeling that no matter how tired her body might be, when she lay her head down tonight, she wouldn’t be able to sleep for seeing his face as it had looked when she had turned away on the back of her eyelids, and her guilt at leaving him chained atop the beanstalk gnawing at her insides.

Shaking her head clear, Emma reminded herself once again that Hook had been in league with Cora; they had no proof but his word, her gut feeling, and her superpower no one else believed, that he wasn’t still working for the witch against them. She’d done the right thing, Emma savagely scolded her yammering conscience. Nothing was worth the risk of not getting back to Henry - or even worse, seeing Regina’s evil mother find her way to where Henry was. Certainly not a piercing-eyed pirate who seemed to see right through her and make her squirm doing it.

With a nod and murmur of thanks, she took the portion of roasted meat offered to her on a makeshift skewer and nibbled at it gingerly. It might just be that she was famished and too tired to be picky, but it tasted better than expected. Emma was swallowing her second bite, when noise caught her attention from the nearby treeline. She jerked upright, immediately on guard; her state of near-slumber shattered and all her nerves jangling with alarm. Her eyes met Mary Margaret’s as her mother reached for her bow and Emma stood with fists clenched, ready to defend them however she could, whether her gun was any use out here or not. Mulan had abandoned the tent at the sound as well, smoothly drawing her sword and facing the trees in front of them like a deadly sentinel.

The noise of heavy footsteps smashing through the underbrush grew nearer and louder; branches snapped, heavy, gasping breaths were heard, and Emma could only square her shoulders and wait for whatever new foe was coming forth to show itself.

What she wasn’t expecting - and what tore a harsh gasp from her throat on sight - was for Hook to stumble dazedly out of the woods toward them, momentarily leaning against a tree trunk to steady himself, his face obviously bloody and his clothing torn. He took a couple more weaving steps toward them before the toe of his boot caught a root that sent him sprawling face down in the dirt at their feet. And he didn’t get up. Didn’t move or speak. Emma was rushing forward in spite of herself before she could think better of it. Her mother called for her to be careful, and Mulan’s stern face cautioned it could be a ploy, but she paid neither of them much heed.

He still hadn’t moved, and he looked even worse close up. He’d been hurt. Badly. Surely Anton wouldn’t have…  This wasn’t what she had wanted. Was this her fault?

Crouching, Emma tried to shake Hook gently, to stir him back into wakefulness. A groan escaped him breathily, which shouldn’t have relieved her nearly as much as it did. There was nothing for it but to roll him over onto his back. At least then she could see his face and assess the damage.

But when she did, her breath caught a second time, choking up somewhere between her throat and her lungs. She couldn’t imagine there had been many times in the life of Captain Killian Jones when this could be said of him, but he looked terrible. His lower lip was busted, with rusty remnants of dried blood staining where they had trailed down his chin. One eye was swollen nearly shut, and the other was bleary to the point that she wondered how he had made his way to them through the dark. A large gash that had barely closed showed beneath the disheveled dark fringe on his forehead. Dark, purpled bruises and nasty scrapes mottled the skin of his face, neck and collar nearly everywhere she could see. Though she would have never admitted it aloud, Hook’s usually flawless countenance was horribly altered by whatever had happened to him. The shadows darkening his usual mischievious sparkle and daring turned her stomach in a way she couldn't begin to explain.

He struggled to raise his head slightly and blinked up at her as best he could through the usable slit of his eye. “Ah Swan, caught up to you, didn’t I?” he jested brokenly, somehow still teasing her through what must be immense pain.

Tilting her head to study him, Emma struggled to look unamused while inexplicably aching to place a hand to his forehead, brush back the matted hair there, and offer some modicum of comfort. Her fingers moved almost of their own accord, hovering just barely over his cheek before hesitating and pulling back, tingling at their proximity even as she resisted making contact. There didn’t appear to be a single place on him that wasn’t battered and wouldn’t cause him more pain if she tried to touch.

As if reading her concern, Hook shifted restlessly, attempting to lever himself upright and then falling back with a wince and guttural moan of protest. She also noticed for the first time how tightly he kept his hook arm pressed to his side, not sure if the injury was to the arm itself or if he were shielding his stomach or ribs, but it ratcheted her worry for him that much higher. Not certain what to do for him, or what to say, her usual half-annoyed bantering retorts fled her the longer she witnessed his vulnerability. Emma finally settled on simply answering his question, and asking one of her own. “It would appear you’ve caught me,” she acknowledged, then added softer, “But why?”

Huffing out a weary breath, Killian didn’t look at her as he barely shook his head, the motion seeming to express that he didn’t quite know himself. “I guess because, double cross and all, Lass, you lot are the safest choice for company of my rather limited options.”

Emma flushed with embarrassment at his casual mention of what she’d done. Her cheeks burned, knowing the man who lay before her could surely see how she’d colored at the reminder and could only hope that his current state made him less sharply observant than usual. That she hadn’t trusted him or the brief alliance they’d made shamed her, and then made her angry for feeling ashamed. She’d been burned before, and had learned to be more wary. That she had wanted to believe him, and had silently agreed when he’d called them quite a team, had only made her more anxious to leave him behind, to flee before he turned on her and she was left in the dust herself. Pushing the conflicting emotions aside, she tried another tack instead. “But what happene to you? How did…? Surely Anton didn’t…?”  She was tripping over her words now, flustered and chiding herself as she shook her head in frustration.

Biting her tongue until she could regain control, her eyes flew to her hand when Killian used his to clasp it and gain her attention. Though his fingers were trembling with the effort, he held on and answered her slowly. “No, that wasn’t the work of your giant admirer. Your new friend released me once the time you requested of him had passed. Bloody gargantuan numbskull threatened me to leave you in peace, but he didn’t do this damage.”

Emma exhaled air she’d hardly realized she was holding. It didn’t make things right between them, but she was grateful that she hadn’t misjudged Anton’s nature and directly caused the torture Hook had clearly undergone. “But then, who?” she whispered, finally daring to squeeze the hand that held hers in return, while at last reaching out and smoothing a light caress over his brow.

He flinched slightly at the initial contact, but then his eyes fell closed momentarily with a sigh of relief. Emma had to know, though the only other option she could think of had dread settling in her belly like stone. “Who did this to you?” she choked.

“Why Cora, of course,” he intoned, trying to appear either flippant or matter of fact and failing with the shadows that passed over his expression. “Not honestly sure why she didn’t finish the job, unless she thought she had and this old body is just too stubborn to give up the ghost.” He drew in a ragged breath before adding, “At any rate, after letting me know that she would leave me here, unable to ever gain my vengeance on Rumplestiltskin, she made certain she had demonstrated the consequences of choosing to align myself against her.”

By this point, his breathing had grown shallow and labored once more with the effort of speaking. Shushing him with a plea to rest, Emma was eager to check with the others about anything they might be able to do for his injuries. He certainly didn’t need her to keep him talking as she was. Pressing trembling lips together, Emma dashed away the single drop of moisture that had escaped her eye and laid his hand tenderly back on his chest. “Well, thankfully, Cora counted her win a bit too soon. Let’s see if we can help you live to fight another day.”

His unfairly long lashes fluttered, and a small, soft chuckle broke from his cracked lips, but Killian seemd to be rapidly giving up the fight to remain lucid. Emma wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad while they tried to tend to his wounds, but she had to do something. She wasn’t going to desert him again.

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

When his eyes fluttered open some time later, Killian Jones found himself dazed and dizzy, then almost nauseous, with his throat parched and dry. Panic followed almost immediately as he struggled to gain his bearings and found himself weak as a newborn kitten, floundering even to sit up unaided. He could not have said whether it had been minutes, hours, or days since he was last aware of his surroundings, but just as he was not sure how much time had passed, he was also vaguely uncertain of where he was and whether or not he was alone - an even more disturbing condition.

His mind was reeling as he attempted to move, scrabbling around over the dry, dusty ground with his good hand in a frantic search for his cutlass. Surely he must have left it within reach. He had learned long ago, even as the captain of a mostly loyal pirate crew, that enemies were varied and numerous, and that he must never let his guard down without a weapon close at hand. He had a jagged, long-healed gash running under his ribs, which Smee had tried his best - if rather crookedly - to sew closed, but which had taught him that lesson all too well.

With a frenzied sound of frustration in his throat, Killian kept fighting to sit upright, ready to defend himself against some unknown foe, only to have hands grip his upper arms tightly, pressing him back and forcing him to remain on the ground. “Unhand me, you blackguard!” he growled, only to have his vision finally regain focus and the fight abruptly drain from his limbs when he found himself staring up at Emma Swan hovering over him, her touch the one keeping him in place.

“Easy there, Hook,” she chided, loosening her grip as he stilled and grew calmer upon seeing he was not under immediate attack. “You’ve got to settle down, or you’ll hurt yourself even more. We tried to stitch the deepest of your cuts and bandage you up. Don’t undo it all!”

She was fussing over him, Killian realized belatedly, his hazy and addled mind slowly filling in the blanks he had missed. She might be scolding and grumbling as she did so, but she was still frightened for his well-being and more concerned for his comfort than he would have dared imagine possible.

He had known there was a frisson of energy that flowed between them when he’d taken her hand in the giant’s lair, cleansing and caring for the cut on her palm despite her stubbornly self-effacing protests. And he really hadn’t thought he was imagining the way she’d held her breath and her pupils had dilated when he’d eyed her daringly while tying off the bandage with his teeth. Still, he’d been hesitant to place too much fatih in what he was reading from her either. Emma Swan was overly guarded and used to being on her own. Someone had obviously hurt her deeply enough to make her push everyone else away in response. Not only that, but she was an actual royal - the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, no less - and the fabled Savior besides. Her light was much too pure and bright to be aligned with his dark and tarnished pirate soul set on vengeance.

All the same, he had cursed himself as seven times a fool when his heart plummeted at her turning and running from him on the beanstalk. He had held out a little hope for them, in spite of his better judgement, or he would not have been so hurt by the betrayal. She was as full of shining enticement, from her flowing golden hair to her sparkling jade eyes, as any buried treasure. He couldn’t help wanting to stay by her side.

As Emma slowly moved to support him, helping him ease into a sitting position while bracing him against her own hip and shoulder, she offered him a water skin and held it up so he could take a much-needed cool drink of water. Killian was stunned to realize that maybe winning her over wasn’t as lost a cause as he had thought. Perhaps Emma Swan already cared more than she wanted to allow herself, and against her own good sense - much as he had found himself doing.

Several quiet moments passed before Killian fully registered that all was still and motionless around them. It was full dark now; the middle of the night, or perhaps early morning, if his view of the moon was accurate, yet he could hear no movements or voice’s from Emma’s royal, bandit, or warrior companions. The fire next to them was dimmed to near embers, and it seemed for the moment as if he and Emma were the only two people under the brilliant array of stars overhead.

Now that he had his bearings and his thirst was slaked, he ventured a glance beyond his lovely blonde Savior’s beguiling face, at least far enough to see that a rough tent had been staked and three bed rolls were occupied beneath its temporary shelter, explaining their privacy, but raising even more questions. Why were the rest of them willing to lower their guard enough to sleep with a virtual stranger and former enemy in their camp? It had been hard to miss the warning and distrust in the Lady Snow’s eyes, at any rate - probably largely protectiveness for her daughter, but still, why grant him this sort of uninterrupted interlude with Emma then? He was clearly in poor shape; maybe they had reckoned he couldn’t do anything to harm them, or charm Emma too thoroughly, as injured as he was.

Killian was abruptly startled from his wandering thoughts when he once more felt the cool, soothing touch of Emma’s fingertips trailing up the side of his face and into his hair. She raked the dark strands back from his fevered skin, calming even the pounding that pained him from the magical beating he’d endured and the rough impact his head had suffered when Cora finally dropped his battered body to the hard ground and left him for dead.

The Enchanted Forest’s lost princess spoke so quietly he had to strain to hear her when she addressed him again, her eyes studiously avoiding his to observe her fingers carding through the mussed, blood-caked strands of his hair. “I’m sorry… truly, I am. It was wrong of me to leave you behind the way I did, and… I should have trusted you. You may be a pirate, and awfully full of yourself, and way too flirty for your own good…” 

At that, Killian attempted to waggle an eyebrow and smirk salaciously to make her smile, only for a cringe to escape him at the motion of his brow and lip.

She noticed, of course, and rather than admonishing that it served him right, as she would have usually done, Emma hissed in sympathy and hushed him with a gentle hum in the back of her throat. “See, this shouldn’t have happened to you, Ho - Killian.” Her switch from his moniker to his real name struck him right in the center of the chest, with as much emphasis as a physical blow. He couldn’t decide if her concern, guilt, and contrition more warmed his heart or troubled him - not wanting to win her over out of mere pity. “That witch only caught up to you, found you empty-handed, because of what I did. This is my fault… b-but… I never wanted you to be hurt like this. I only wanted a head start, to get back to my son.”

If he hadn’t been shocked to his core already, the depth of emotion in Swan’s voice as she made her confession would have been enough to bowl him over. It sounded as though she might be on the verge of tears on his behalf, and Killian could hardly fathom it. Drawing a ragged breath of his own, he wet his cracked lips and managed a sincere response to her heartfelt openness. 

“Darling,” and here he couldn’t help a bit of a rogueish grin at her, despite how it pulled on the broken skin of his lip again. 

She shook her head, but didn’t scoff or interrupt, not this time, and heartened, he continued in all sincerity. “I’m not going to lie to you. I was angry when you shackled me there and left me behind. I’d been on the level with you, was doing my best to help you, and for the first the time in a long time, I felt like I connected with someone genuinely. But I also understand that your boy is your first priority. You cannot let anything else matter as much - or even possibly risk his safety.”

His battered knuckles were beginning to swell, and his fingers ached as he moved them, but Killian still managed to return the clutch of Emma’s own hand and intertwine their fingers with a sigh of rightness and relief. Glancing back up to search her gaze once more, he added, “I understand what being separated from one’s child might do to a person… more than you might think, in fact. I respect you all the more for your urgency and desire to return to him as soon as possible.”

He could see Emma wondering what his words might mean; the gears turning in her sharp mind were obvious, even if she only pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes slightly, watching him a few moments longer. Thankfully, she didn’t press the matter further, but instead released what seemed a lungful of air she must have been holding worriedly and gave him a hopeful smile. “So… you forgive me, then?”

The barest dip of his chin was as far as he dared move his aching head, but Killian assured her without hesitation, “Aye, Emma, I do,” in as strong and certain a voice as he could muster. 

By then, the faintest tendrils of light were beginning to break through the deep indigo sky and soft hints of scuffling and waking from their fellow travelers hinted that they would not be alone much longer.

Though he still hurt all over as if he had been scorched by a dragon’s breath and then crushed by an ogre’s tread, Killian couldn’t help but feel as if his situation had drastically changed. Even more so when Emma Swan’s eyes grew warmer yet; her aspect beaming crookedly at him like sunlight slowly emerging from a bank of clouds. Just before they were joined by Snow White bearing coffee for his Savior, Emma winked at him conspiratorially and leaned forward to murmur. “I’m glad, Pirate. After all, we make quite the team, remember?”

Tagging a few others who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @apiratewhopines @sotangledupinit @stahlop @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @killian-whump @artistic-writer @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @booksteaandtoomuchtv @kazoosandfannypacks @justanother-unluckysoul @wefoundloveunderthelight @motherkatereloyshipper @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @jonesfandomfanatic @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @drowned-dreamer @xarandomdreamx @caught-in-the-filter

[rei64bit]

The Song of Rig [Heimdall Fanfic]

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Heimdall x Reader

Words: 12K

This time I wrote the final part of the Heimdall fan fic.

You can think of this as the last part of the series Dusk till Dawn or just another short fanfic of Heimdall.

Rig is actually the another name when Heimdall went to earth.

**I'm not a writer and first time writing something for my favorite characters.

====================================

Winter still haunts the land of Midgard; in the middle of the forest stands a small cottage that looks so fragile it seems like a single blow of wind might blow up the rooftop. Such a small house, it’s quite small for a big family, perhaps it’s only big enough for two persons.

Not so far, a woman voice can be heard. “Hey Rig, can you help me to choke up some wood?” The woman asked.

“Sure! Coming right up!” A man voice answered the woman, sound so warm and energetic it’s so out of place compared to this harsh cold winter that been last for more than four years.

“Hmm, it seems like we still have some meat supplies , but we might need to get more so we don’t have to worry for the next few months.” Walking to Rig, putting her finger through one of the many small holes on his coat and smile. “Plus, I need fur to fix this for you.”

“Haha, that’s nice of you to think of it, but it still warms enough, you don’t have to worry.” Rig smile warmly. “Come on big boy.” Hand patting on Rig shoulder you go and gather your arrow and bow.

Rig was found by her unconscious lying in the middle of the forest, covered in snow and almost die from the blood lost from his severed arm. She was the one brings him back to her small wooden cottage and healed him back to health. Unfortunately, there is nothing she can do about the severed arm as she can’t find the lost arm anywhere near the place where she found him.

As someone who lost their arm, Rig was struggling with daily chores the first few weeks but after he fully recovered, he now can even do some heavy duty without any help. He does have some inhuman strength that shouldn’t belong to a mortal.

Until now Rig has no memories of where he is from and why he is here. It seems like something happened that make him lose a limb as well as his memories too.

“Alright, if you wish to.” Rig walked to his bed and took out a box that hide under the bed frame. An old wooden box storing a sword. It was a golden sword she found, the sword hilt looks too stunning to be a weapon she just found abandoned in the wood, but Rig don’t want to question her integrity on this anymore, don’t think she steal from anyone or else he will feel sad for what she did just for him.

“You ready Rig?” woman had her bow and arrows at her back standing at the front door.

“Always ready than you.” Rig energetic as usual, putting his sword in the scabbard that hangs on his back.

“Ray, who is my good girl? Who's my good girl?” Rig patting on the neck of the strong white mare they kept for quite some time now, it helps them travel faster. Rig and Ray have one thing in common, their hair color is a bright blond that with a little of light grey. Rig has the braided short hair that all braids hold by the middle one and tie to the end. He look handsome with that hairstyle.

“Ray come on, we gotta go hunting now. We better go now before the sun sets.” Rig said while guiding the horse out of the yard. Both Rig and the woman riding on the horse, they slowly depart, to find any prey nearby they can hunt.

The wind is getting stronger but both Rig and the woman refuse to go back empty handed, until finally, they find some animal tracks that look fresh.

Rig found something and getting excited he get off the horse and check. “Here, come and look at this. It looks like a boar's; the hoof is wider than deer. Looks like it’s a big fat boar.” Rig looked back at the woman and smirked.

“If we get it, we won’t need to worry for food for a while. Come on Rig, you don’t want to lose our target.” 

“In your dream, I won’t let that happen” Rig flipped her nose.

Walk pass another path, Rig looked at the destroyed ancient temple-like building with trees overgrown on it. 

“The ruin, it’s always quite a sight to look at. It’s sad to think about what happened here before.” Rig sighed. 

“Better be careful, there may still be cannibals around here.” The woman warned Rig. 

“To be frank, the cannibal is the least thing I worry about, the revenant is what I’m concerned the most! Ugh their nasty magic hurts more than anything and they are creepy too.” Rig said with a look of disgust.

“Yeah, that too. But we better focus on our main mission now if you remember?” “Come on, I’m not that forgetful.” Rig hurried the horse to keep moving, still following the boar track.

“Shh there it is!” The woman slowly gets off the horse and hides in the nearby bush, and ready her bow. It’s a big black boar eating grass on the ground nonchalantly, not aware of the real threat - two silhouettes hiding in the bush watching it.

Aiming at the boar the woman let loose her bow, arrow shot right into the boar throat.

“Good job!” Rig gets excited and grabs the woman's shoulder. He is the first one to rush to the side where the boar is lying. However the boar is not yet dead.

It still squeals in pain in between its ragged breaths. Looking in its eye, Rig can feel its pain, and must put it out of its misery. Rig unsheathed his sword from his back.

“Thank you for your sacrifice, it will not be forgotten.” Swiftly Rig sank his sword into the boar’s chest, piercing its heart. When the woman reaches the side, the boar is already dead. “Thank you.” The woman said. “Nah, you are the one who did the job, I’m just picking up what you left.”

Rig tied the boar to the rack, to let it pull by the horse slowly as they headed back to the cottage.

“Good thing we were able to hunt this boar before the sunset. Okay, ready to go then? "

The winter really makes the sky darker earlier; it's hard to see even during the evening. When the winter was started, it was said that Ragnarök will come by the third Winter, but now it’s the fifth winter and it doesn’t seem to stop.

“Do you believe in Ragnarök, Rig?” The woman asked.

“Huh? Why so sudden?”      “No, I’m just curious what you think of it.”

Rig thinks for a moment “um well, it’s a prophecy of a war that will break out between the giants and the Aesir gods, the end of the gods is what they said, but I never actually seen it and nor that I will see it. I mean I’m just a mortal, we are just like an ant to the gods, as long as we don’t anger them, we will be fine.”

“Is that so? Aren’t the things you said just now a little ignorant and disrespectful to the gods?”

“Ahaha, I’m sorry. I’m not really good at such topics, it’s not something I can prove or to research on. It’s… intangible.”

Reaching the cottage where both Rig and the woman stay, the sky is getting darker. “I will lead Ray back to the yard, she needs to stay warm after this long hours hunting.” “Yeah, Ray is really our good girl, aren't you?” Rig patting on Ray's neck again.

The woman started to skin the boar, keeping every edible part and the fur. While Rig is busy starting the fire and cooking some soup in the house.

“Hey, dinner is ready!” Rig tells the woman to come in. “Alright, I will join you soon.” As she is still trying to clean up the mess..

“Woah Rig, I didn’t know you were a cook. It smells delicious!” The woman being sassy and praising Rig on his cooking skill, but of course Rig really can cook well.

“Oh well, it’s my pleasure to have such privilege to cook for you, your approval mean everyyyything to me.” Rig also tries to be sassy.

Both sitting near the fire and eating their meal, it was a vegetable soup, with carrot and potatoes from the backyard. The winter has been harsh to the crop but Rig has been able to sustain them well enough to grow. The conversation between Rig and the woman comes back and forth, Rig is always the one to ask tons of questions, mostly out of curiosity.

She knew a lot of things, she also taught him how to wield the sword too.

“What are you carving this time?” Rig asked the woman, she sat on her bed, wood carving a figure.

“You. I’m craving a figure of you.”   “Uh what? Me?”

“Yeah, so I can still remember your dumb face when one day you decided to leave.” The women look a little sad when she said so.

 “..That’s something sad you think of.., I mean I'm getting comfy here and it’s not like I have other places to go. You are all I have now.” Rig eating the second bowl while looking at the woman and said.

“You never know, gotta prepare for the worst.” The woman continues carving. The figure is far from complete but it's slightly recognizable as Rig, the lost limb and the braided hair. 

“O-kay if you said so.  Just make sure you carve me handsome. That’s the most important detail you couldn’t miss.”  “Ah yes, sure. Lord Rig.”

“The place where you found me.. is there anyone other than me?” Rig asked curiously, perhaps he really want to know more. Time by time Rig will find a chance to ask about it, although it always come to a same answer.. 

“.. I don’t know...., I didn't see anyone when I found you. It was a mess and some hel-walker is getting close, I really don’t have the time to check around. Rig, I know you really want to understand what happened to you, but I already told you all I know. I can’t tell you something I don’t know. Do you understand?” woman getting a little frustrated. 

Not sure what to say Rig turn back his head.

“..Look I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that. I’m really sorry.” the woman apologized for her words.

“It’s fine..., you are right. I shouldn’t keep forcing you on this.” Rig lay on his bed looking at the rooftop.

“It’s better to rest now. Get some sleep you need it Rig.” woman trying to sooth Rig.

“You should too, don’t spend too much time carving my handsome face, you can always see me here as much as you like.”    “Get out of here Rig” Seems like the joke loose the tense atmosphere.

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“Ow man! Really?! The wolves again?! This is the second time they have stolen our food! We need to do something about it!” Rig gets angry for the food stolen again by the wolf pack.

“I think they see through the bear trap, this wolf pack seems to be smarter than usual wolves we encounter. It’s like they learned it somewhere else.” Woman said. 

“I don’t care! They need to pay back what they stole! We are not going to let them keep doing this!” Rig goes back to the house, gets the sword and readies it.

“Rig what are you doing?”  “Getting what belongs to us back!” Getting on horse, he gets ready to track those wolves.

“Are you coming with me?” Rig looked at the woman, expecting her to join. Both of them have been living together for almost two years, they know each other quite well, like how she knows Rig is always the one who never gives up from a fight.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?”     “Nope.” Rig tilted his head and waited for the woman to get on the horse and sit in front of him.

The snow storm still shows no signs of stopping any time soon, the tracks of the wolf pack can still be seen but some has been covered by layers of snow.

The woman sighed. “Do you think we lost them? It’s getting really bad out here Rig.”

“No, there are still tracks, I’m not going home empty handed either! Would you rather just stay at home and wait for them to come to steal our food again?”

“hah— just keep looking for them, but we will head back before the sunset.”

“I will watch the time.” Rig keeping a very focused look on the ground to find any fresh track.

“--! Do you hear it, Rig?!” The woman said.

“The wolves!” Rig makes the horse go at full speed, not wanting to lose the chance of catching them, after all, their fur can be made into new bed sheets and their meat can last them for the next few months.

“Hya! Ray follow the sound!” Rig holds onto the woman's waist while Ray moves faster.

“I think we are close! We better slow down to not make them put their guard up.” The woman pats on Rig’s hand.

The environment is very new to both of them, it’s a new territory they never explored before. Soon they find another ruin in front of them that is quite similar to the one in their area; the sound of the wolves can be heard inside the ruins.

There is also smoke from inside the ruin, which means the wolves are tamed by someone. This is the first time they encounter a stranger in this place. Most of the Migardian either moved to somewhere safe or died while trying to do so. This whole time, two years, both of them never actually encounter other people.

“There are people inside Rig, I can hear them talking, it sounds like two men.” Both unmount Ray and hide in a safe blind spot. Slowly approaching the source of the voice, Rig slowly unsheathes his sword from his back not wanting to make unnecessary noise that can alert the strangers that lie ahead.

“Brother, I think Speki and Svanna are sensing something approaching here.”  “Hmm.” The two strangers whispered to each other. Now their guard is up, and they reach for their weapons.

Rig gets tensed up and the woman follows him behind the nearby wall.

“Who goes there!” One of the strangers yelled into the wind. Rig clenched onto his sword, thinking whether he should attack now and before he could act, the woman was already making her first move, stepping out in the light.

“What are you doing!” Rig angrily shouted, getting frustrated of her not waiting for him to make the call. Rig quickly rushes out to stand in front of her as they stand at the ruin entrance.

In front of Rig is a tall man with an axe that looks astonishing in a pose ready for battle. Where is the other stranger? He clearly heard two voices.

“What do you want from us!” The tall man questioned.

“Brother, I think our wolves might’ve stolen something from these two, the prey they caught today is obviously well prepared for the winter.” That is the voice of the other man but from behind the tall man, yet Rig can’t see him.

Rig barked. “Your wolves stole what belongs to us! And now we’re here to take back what we owed OR your wolves can pay for the price too!” Rig growing impatience. The animal they caught is just going to waste by these cunning wolves.

“Brother! This voice!”   “Hmm.” The tall man grabs something from his back and pulls it out. It is a decapitated head and it’s talking! Rig is shocked by what he is seeing, a talking head?!

“Bloody hell, how can he still be alive?! How brother?!”   “I do not know.” The tall man answered the creepy head.

“I don’t care what sorcery you have on you, all we want is to get back what we own.”

“You see, the wolves already ate them, I’m sorry a—this is so weird how can he still alive?” Rig is getting more frustrated as he has no idea what they are trying to say.

“I said…give it back!” Getting heated, Rig makes the first move and sprints at them.

The tall man reacts at lightning speed, both weapons clanged together making an unusual sound, yet it’s beautiful to hear. A rainbow kind of light grows from Rig’s sword, which to his surprise has never happened like this before; it’s always been an ordinary sword, other than the glorious design on the hilt.

“The hell?!” Rig cursed while swinging at the stranger. Both using all their strength making their weapon holding in place.

“Rig!” The woman shouted.   “Rig?? Your name is Rig??” The head that’s dangling from the hip of the stranger sounds very surprised on his name.

Both the strangers and Rig’s weapon creates a strong magnetic field, and immediately, an explosion happens as they are both flung apart.

Rig slams against the ruin wall and collapses on the ground. He quickly recomposes himself as a noise rings in his head. Feeling dizzy, he held his head while still watching his opponent in case he made a move on him.

”Kratos, I think we should just leave it. Don’t do this the second time. He seems to not remember both of us.” Kratos, that’s the name of the tall stranger, Rig wanted to make sure he wouldn’t forget it.

“He will attack us regardless.”  “Lad! We are sorry for what the wolves did, but we can’t let you take our wolves, we need them to pull our sledge. Perhaps we can exchange something eh?” The creepy head suggested. 

“What do you offer then” This time the woman is walking forward and trying to gain control of this conversation, not wanting Rig to do anything ruthless.

Rig tries to disagree on her negotiation with strangers.

“Well, we have a valuable jewel we found in the other realm and some hacksilvers. Well, it be a deal?”

“Well smart head, how can the jewel feed us, we need food not luxury accessories!” Rig angrily pointed out.

Rig is right, they need food more than anything and there is no merchant in Midgard, so they can’t buy food with the jewel or money given to us. The resources in Midgard are getting less and less thanks to this winter and it doesn’t seem to end any time soon.

“Kratos, perhaps we can give them some meat that we hunted not long ago? If we can make a quick turn to Sindri house to grab it!”   “Hmm” The tall man speaks very little and really likes to gruntle.

“Well very then. Eh, Lad and lass, how about you wait for us here for a bit while we make a quick turn to grab something back to you?” Rig eyeing the woman, it’s like he is asking ‘do you believe them?’ “Haa- okay, we will wait.”

The stranger with the talking head departed to where they called Sindri’s house, perhaps that where they stay with their friend.

“You don’t think they will trick us?” Rig sitting at the fire that was made by the stranger and looking at his sword.

He doesn’t look happy and sounds energetic like usual. His eyes sometime watching the wolves as if he is planning to take their wolves instead, which the wolves sensed and groan at him.

“Rig, that’s the only way. I don’t want to see you get in a unnecessary fight and the reason we are here is to get back our food, nothing more.” woman sit next the fire and warming her hand.

“Plus, we can always take their wolves if they lie to us.” Rig smiled softly at her last statement and now sheathed his sword back. The wolves not really appreciate both of your scheme of taking them away from their master.

That strangers..they don’t look like a mortal to Rig. There are some aura around them like- “What do you think about that two strangers?” “Huh?” Rig get surprise of she catch what he is thinking.

“They don’t look like an ordinary man to me.. it’s like they are-immortal like a-”

"Gods?” Before Rig can finish the woman continue his sentence.

“Yeah, I mean there is a decapitated head talking to us just now, how in this realm this can be happen?” Rig dumbfounded.

“What do you feel about them?” woman asked. “I don’t know..they just so different, like powerful.” Rig said while caressing his limb-less arm.

“Do you wish to be like them?”

“What you mean? This is not something we mortals can do, we are just trying to live our lives in peace. But if they really are god just think about I tried to fight one of them just now make me shiver.” Rig feel awesome for what he did, to stand up to a god-like stranger despite only have an arm.

In Rig’s mind he did think if only he is a god with some cool ability, how would he feel like? Feeling superior or much more ignorant maybe? The feeling of standing on the peak of the pyramid tower did make him feel extremely good. If he is a god, he wouldn’t let them starve or live in such hard environments.

Not sure how long the time has passed, the strangers came back with the promised food supplies.

“We are not going to thank you for that.” Rig said while the woman take the surprise from the stranger’s hand.

“Hmm” The stranger grunted again. “Kratos, can I have a few words with uh Rig?” Without hesitation the stranger pull the talking head from the back to face both of them.

Both looking at the dangling head waiting him to say something.

“Lad, do you have any memories of us?”  “What do you mean?” Rig frowned.

“See Kratos, I don’t think he remember anything at all! If he still him, he did start to spitting every venom he can get on me now!”   “Hmm.” The tall man name call Kratos looked at Rig.

“Stop your babbling and get to the point already you creepy old goat head.” Rig don’t like feeling like in some kind of riddle, clenching his only hand and demand them to say what they mean.

“anndd yet still so spiteful.” The dangling head added.

“Rig! We should go now.” The woman starting to move. She doesn’t seems happy of what this conversation is leading to.

“This two sound like they know me! Don’t you think its important to get all information from them?! They absolutely know who am I!” Rig shout as the distance between Rig and the woman is getting far.

“I say go now!!” The woman do not give in and insist they should move now.

“Lad, there is nothing much we can tell, it just- we kinda met you at some point of the time and nothing much. We don’t know what happened to you after that.” The talking head continued.

Rig groan loudly at what he said, did this talking head telling the truth or just lie so he can walk away with his tail tacking between his legs.

If only he can read his mind he can get this done faster. The tall stranger doesn’t say any word anymore, he just plainly stares at him, but his eyes tell him there is something they are hiding.

Not able to get this conversation going anymore, Rig felt defeated following the woman to retreat.

Not too far, Rig still can hear the two strangers talking but not able to pinpoint what they talking about.

“Why do you leave? I still have things to ask them!” Rig question the woman.

“You heard them, there is nothing much they can tell you anymore. The sun is setting, we have to back before the forest get too dark for Ray to navigate. Do you still remember why we are here?”

Rig sighed in defeat, she is right, they are here to get the food supplies back which they did.

It’s getting colder too, not a smart choice to still stay out of the wood. “Ray I’m sorry to make you wait.” Rig patting on Ray gently.

Back to the cottage, Rig helping to set the fire preparing for meal. It’s the same soup Rig been cooking all the time.

“You are getting too ruthless today.” woman stated which drink her soup.

“I don’t know.. there are just something about him, it make my body move the moment I look at his eye. I just feel so furious. I-I-” Rig not sure how to say it, ended with suttering.

“Rig, the most important thing is you are alive. We can’t keep looking back. We need to move forward and see what ahead waiting for us.” woman put her hand on Rig’s and smile sadly.

“You’are- right. I guess. Let’s just eat before the food get cold.” Not wanting to struggle on this question anymore he focus on his soup.

“The meat supplies they gave to us is quite some quality you know. Look likes they had it from some marketplace.” woman said amusingly

“Rich bastard.” Rig added.

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“It hurts!! It hurt SO MUCH!” Hand holding his head.

"Keep your breathing slow and steady. Stop panicking, it only make it worse.” The woman mixing some powder in the water.

“Come on, drink it slowly.” Rig drink it in a few galop, panting as the pain slowly faded away. Sweat dripping from his face.

Rig been having nightmares and every time it ended with him wake up lashing out with severe headache. The drink the woman make is the temporary solution as the nightmare never went away.

“What do you mean?!”

“I mean the nightmare started since the day we met these two strangers, I keep having a dream of myself dying in the hand of a tall figure, choking me to death and I just keep falling in to the pit that doesn’t seems to have an end! I’m sick of this! I. Need. Answer!” Rig pacing the room and said.

“What make you think they have anything to do with the nightmare and your headache?!”

“I don’t know how to say it! I just know okay!” Rig really don’t want this conversation to keep going everyday, he need to act immediately.

“I forbid it”   “What? What are you saying?”

“Do you know how dangerous it is to go out to find someone that you don’t even know where they are? They might not be friendly like last time. I couldn’t risk this another time!”

“Risk what?! There is nothing you need to afraid of! Hel if anything happened  I will protect you!”

“I’m afraid of losing you!!” Rig shocked at what she said. He never think he is this important to her.

Getting soften Rig walk toward the woman and give her a warm hug.

“I will be fine, I might be losing a limb but I still can handle it. Remember last time I even able to hold his axe’s attack? I’m not that weak like you think I’m.”

Rubbing her back Rig trying to convince the woman. “What if bad thing happened? What if-”

“But I can’t staying here like this! I need to know the answer! I need to know who I’m!” woman eye shows a sign of sadness and sorrow.

“So you are leaving then..”

“That’s not what I mean-. Look, I just need an answer, then I will be back here. I’m not going to anywhere! Trust me!” Rig want the woman to have faith in him, he always keep his promise.

woman look in his eye and not saying a word for a moment, her eyes look confused and much more sorrow than ever.

“I- I don’t want to talk about this now. I need some sleep perhaps tomorrow we can talk again.”  “But-”    “Not now”

Rig see there is no chance to talk about it now, getting frustrated he sit outside the cottage, brush Ray’s fur.

She is just so stubborn! Why can’t she just listen to me for once!” Rig talking to Ray like she can understand his lament.

“I always listen to her, all the time Ray! Do this and that. Clean this wash that.” Ray neighed like she agree.

“Right? By the god she is just so- So.” Not sure what to describe he just left the word unspoken.

“I mean I appreciate she saved the from almost dying. But she can’t keep me here like this, it’s like I'm chained, Ray.” Ray nibble his hair.  “Hey! Are you even listening?!” Rig stopping Ray. Ray is always very fond of Rig if she can choose.

“I gotta know what happened to me..” Rig pat on Ray one more time, bid her goodnight and walk in.

It's very quiet in the house now, other than the crackling sound from the fireplace.

Rig sitting on his bed and look at the woman slumber.

Thinking how he still going to face the nightmare tonight again if he sleep, it just kinda pointless to fell asleep.

A mischief idea came across Rig’ mind. Sneak out to find out himself.

Rig try not to make any big noise, slowly getting himself ready, sword at the back. Standing at the front door, Rig look back at the woman sleeping sound and safe.

He hesitated, but soon he make up his mind to start his journey, to find the answer, then he will be back as promised. Door closed gently, now the room is getting colder than ever, the sunshine that stay here just left.

“Shit! This is cold!” Rig in the middle of the forest, trying to remember where they met the strangers named Kratos.

He saw the familiar ruins, there it is!  Approaching the center, no one is there.

Rig disappointed but wait! There are still a little smoke came out of the fireplace that has been put out. Great! They might not be far away, Rig hurried up trying to find any track and he can see the wolves track, they did say the wolves help to pull their sledge.

Rig shake his head try to Ignore the thought, no time for distraction. He need to act fast before he lose the chance to contact them.

“Brother, I think that’s enough for today eh? Let just head back to give the herb to Freya.”   “hmm”

“I still can’t believe we see him again! That prick! Although he does look a little different, no bifrost eyes, no golden teeth, but the face no mistake it’s him! And his arm that you blow off!”  “Hmm”

“If I guess, the lady that stand next to him is the one save him, but I’m not sure how he can revive the dead.”

“Speaking from the undead himself.”   “Ay ay I know, magic. Perhaps the lass know some magic to bring him back. I wonder if I see her before, she look familiar but I know don’t where I seen her before!”

“Enough of distraction, we should head back” Kratos put the head back ready to move.

“Well of course, but I think you will need to deal with him first, brother.” Kratos not sure what Mimir said, turned his head.

The silhouette in front of them not too far, revealed to be the person of the really topic. Rig.

“Hello Rig, it’s you again. You look well, where is the lady?” Rig not really want to answer that instead he asked.

“I’m here just for an answer I’m seeking from both of you.”

“Oh dear.. Guess we couldn’t just leave now brother”   “Hmm.” Kratos grunted, but didn’t reach for his axe.

“If you don’t want to tell me, I guess I just have to force it on you.”  Rig unsheathe his sword from his back, ready to do the worse if they don’t comply.

“Still impatience hard headed as always. I see.” The head said.

“What do you mean by that? You said like as if you knew me.”

“Kratos?” “Hmm” Kratos now holding the dangling head from his back.

“Well, I’m not sure if im doing the right thing at first, but since now you are here looking for answer, I suppose its fate you have to know.”  Fate, the word sound so sharp in Rig’ ear, he hate this word.

“First, I’m Mimir. The smartest man alive.”  “The undead” Kratos added.

“Aye aye, would you let me continue brother? ”  Kratos grunted.

“Well look, Rig. Indeed I knew you, when you are small that time I arrived in Asgard.” Asgard? The realm of god beings, how this head called Mimir say this? He met him in Asgard? That’s ridiculus.

“I know how it sound like.” Mimir saw his surprised face and added.

“Your name is not Rig, and nor that you are a ordinary mortal. You are the god of foresight, the herald of the Ragnarok and the son of the Aesir King, Odin. .. and the last time we met, you are ready to fight Kratos in the order of your father I assume, and you see,  thing went sour and we have to do what he have to, urg we--” Mimir rambling a long answer and getting a little uncomfortable at the last part, which Kratos help on.

“You wanted to kill us and I killed you.” Kraots continued.

“Simple and straightforward brother, you can’t just say that and expect him take this well.” Mimir said to Kratos.

This whole time when Mimir telling him, his mind been in a state that he is not thinking anymore, the things Mimir said is too much to take in at one shot.

Blank face stared at the two men. Rig take time to process his thought.

“It must be hard to accept this, but it seems like you didn’t die after we left. For this part we don’t have the answer you want, perhaps you can ask the lady, she found you maybe she know more detail.”

“No! She wouldn’t lie! She don’t know much..” Rig said.

“..Or perhaps the norms can help.”     “Mimir!” Kratos not really like the idea.

“Brother, if he going to know he will know eventually, and he doesn’t seems to be someone will harm Atreus anymore.”

“What if he will.” “...then you will be the one decide then.” Atreus, the name sound so familiar to Rig.

“The norms you said, are they able to give me the answer I need?”

“Well, they are the one  who see the future, and secret. No guarantee, perhaps they can help you, worth a try.” Mimir answered.

“Alright then, where is this norm at?” Rig wanting to get what he want no its what he need as soon as possible, he is impatience now.

“Well brother, what do you think?”    “Hmm.” Kratos nodded his head.

“Very well then, Rig, we can help you to find the norm, but do know that they don’t want to be found, this journey can be hard and it can be fruitless and knowing all this do you still want to follow?” Without hesitation Rig nodded, determined to find out the truth.

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“Look out Lad!” Rig dodged the attack of the trolls and finding the opening to attack it’s weak spot. One more strike the troll fell.

“Well, I didn’t know you are quite a fighter.” Mimir added.

“Enough to survive.” Rig swing his sword to shake off the blood. Rig hop back to the sledge and the wolves start pulling.

“You are really different compare to the last time I saw like-”

“A different person?” Rig added.  “Yeah”

“How I was like before?”     “Well..”    “So?”

“Spiteful vicious little shit, insult everyone as one of the hobby and daddy's lapdog.”

“Mimir.”  “Well he want to know the true, I don’t see the point of hiding it”

“..” Rig is quite shock on the statement Mimir made, did he really this bad? But why he will be like that if he is not now?

“You alright lad?” “I am.” “See Kratos, he take it well.” Kratos grunted.

Sun already set down, the trio finding a spot to rest.

Rig help to set up the fire despit Kratos insist to do it himself. Warm his own hand and Rig started to have more questions, he want to know more, about himself, about everything.

“So, you are the one kill me?” Rig look at Kratos with no grudge in his eye, the way Rig asked its like asking whether he had his breakfast or not.

Perhaps Rig don’t have the memories of that event, so he don’t really feel the hate.

“Hmm.” “And my limb.” Rig looking at his missing arm.  “Yes.” Rig like the way Kratos answer, straightforward to the point, no need to hide, after all he is here to look for the answer not comfort.

“And Mimir, you said I’m the god of foresight?”

“Yes lad. The herald of the Ragnarok too. You hold the Gjharllahorn that it sound will be hear across all realms and that’s the time for the end of the asgard.”

“God of foresight? You mean I can foreseen what is coming?”

“Yes lad, and no one ever able to lay a finger on you.”

“Until him shows up?” “Yes lad, it’s unfortunate but we only did what we can to protect ourselves.”  “That’s fair.”

“Now I wanna, know, do you prefer we call you Rig or our real name- Heimdall?” Mimir’s question did shake him a little, he always been Rig this whole time, and for him Heimdall sound so unkind, plus he is or used to be a prick to everyone based on what Mimir said.

“Just call whatever you like.” Not wanting to decide, he let them choose.

“Very well them, Rig it is. Honestly I like you more now.” Rig is speechless, perhaps he really is a spiteful vicious prick like what Mimir said earlier.

“Kratos, you mentioned someone name Atreus, who is him.” Rig continue his other question.

For some reason, Kratos did tense up a little when he asked him this. He have some concern whether he should tell him or not and probably thinking of the consequences and what to do if worse to come.

"..He is my son.” That’s the only thing Kratos said.

“You did spoke about him like I’m going to hurt him. What is his story?”

“Well lad, I think I can answer you that.” Mimir helped Kratos.

“Well you see, there is a prophecy of you-- well Heimdall and Atreus. They meant to kill each other when Ragnarök come. You did threaten to kill Atreus his son, so Kratos did what he have to.”

“To kill me.” Rig added. “Yes.” Kratos answered him. For some reason Rig understand what Kratos did instead of getting mad of the fact he killed him.

To protect someone they care and love, some time they have to do the worse thing.

Now suddenly Rig think of her, she probably now panicking and try to look for him. He left Ray there so she still able to go around with no trouble. He does care for her a lot, it just he need to know the truth before he come back as promised. He will not leave her.

“I’m sure your friend will be fine Lad.” Mimir able to pick up what he’s been thinking of.

“Yeah, she is strong.” “I have no doubt on that Lad.”

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 “Look at this, I think we might found them” The trio walk near a swamp, it look peaceful here.

“But there is no kelpie can bring us there.”

“We swim.” Kratos said.   “What?” Rig not really good at swimming.

“There is no other way” Kratos answered.

“But how can we swim so fast?! We could drown in halfway brother!”

“The talking head got a point.”    “It’s Mimir to you!”

“We will make sure of this weapon.”

“Oh-! With the enchantment we got from Sindri previously that can make spear keep going till it reach the target! ”    “Hmm.”

“What weapon?” Rig wonder. Kratos turned to face him, with just a second a spear appears in his hand. That’s some magic spear he got there, not sure how he manage to do it but it must be their friend Sindri made it for them as they mentioned his name quite some time when they talk about some magic tool and weapons.

“Ready?” Kratos ask Rig.

“Well what you want me to do?” Rig not sure what he want him to do, he only got one hand.

Without telling, Kratos just grab on the shirt front it back and jump in to the swamp.

“!!” Rig is shocked by what Kratos did, he don’t have time to react. Holding his breath and eye closed, he feel the current of the water as they somehow magically moving fast in the water.

The pressure did make Rig feel very uncomfortable as he don’t really spend time in water that much, especially under water.

Just when Rig couldn’t hold his breath anymore, they jump out of the water.

Rig lay on the ground coughing and trying to calm his breathing pace down. He doesn’t really appreciate get soaked in water, but if this is the only way to reach the norm, he will do it.

“Beware of delusion lad! The norm like to play on the seeker mind, to trick you in their illusion they created just for each of us.”

“Delusion?” “Yes lad, those who passed only will be able to see the norm.”

“And those who didn’t?”  “They stuck in the time and place and become insane.” That is not the answer Rig wished to hear.

Before Rig can ask further, the area is getting foggy and when he turn his head to find them, they are no place to be found.

“Mimir? Kratos?” No one answer.

“Where the hell are you two?!” Unsheathe his sword from the back, Rig ready himself.

Started to hear whispering from either both side of his ears, Rig groaned.

Suddenly he hear a woman voice. “Scion of the Aesir, or should I call a merely ordinary mortal?” look at his back trying to find the source of this mystery voice.

“Heimdall that see all, or Rig the one arm.” The voice giggling and continue.

“Always so loyal to his father, zealous believer of Odin, king of the Aesir, the raven king.” Rig getting frustrated swing his sword around as if he can hurt the mist around him.

The voice laugh and continue. Suddenly a silhouette appear in front of him.

It’s him, but more stylish, wearing black and white tunic with the iron platted garment at the bottom. A horn hanging at his back and the sword is exactly the same sword he have now.

The silhouette draw out a sword and branding on a much more short silhouette that look like a dwarf.

The scream of the dwarf can be heard, so haunting. The silhouette that look like Rig himself did nothing but laugh and continue torture the dwarf.

This haunt Rig heart, he knew from Mimir he is a prick back then but never he thought he went to this extend.

His silhouette now turn to face him and smile, ready to attack Rig, with no hesitation Rig fought back his own silhouette. “Come on! Show me what you got, Loki!!” The silhouette said.

“HAAA-!” Using his full strength Rig fight back and get the upper hand and before the silhouette can react, Rig slide it to half.

“Monster..” That’s the last word of the silhouette before it disappear.

Just when he thought it’s over, thousand of hand appear from the ground trying to drag him into the ground. Struggling Rig swings his sword and cutting off their hand, but it regenerate too soon. Right before he fully sink into the ground he heard someone call out his name. “Rig! Wake up lad!” Open his eyes, nothing actually happened, he is still standing at the same spot.

“That’s is what I mean delusion. Guess you seen yours too.” Rig didn’t answer, only trying to catch his breath after the fight with nothing but silhouette.

Entering the cave, it look marvelous with yellow strip hanging from the top, not sure if it’s a decoration or some organisms.

“Mimir the head, Kratos the ghost of sparta and Rig the one who forgot who he is or was enter the domain of the norm.”

“Here they come.” Mimir said and a woman voice Rig heard before mimic on what Mimir said too.

“This is always the fun part eh. Lad you can ask them now.” Rig now not sure how to start, trying to think of the way to ask.

“I wanna know-” “who am I” The norm continue Rig’s.

“Poor child don’t even know who he is or who he used to be.”

“The ignorant Aesir god or who used to be entering the domain to find his answer to all his question.”

“A shortcut indeed.”

“Asking the help of the very one who killed them, how pity. And the ghost of sparta can’t resist the urge to grunt.” “hmm”

“Just tell me how to gain back my memories, that;s all I asked.”

“Memories he said, he want to know what he did so badly he can’t move forward, ignoring all the actually important to him now.”

“The gods of foresight begging for help to gain back something he will soon regret. How tragic.”      “The fate of an Aesir god.”

“Perhaps he will crawl back to beg again when he realize what he did.”

Rig getting impatience. “Just tell me already!!”  “Missing the point here I see.”

Before Rig say again, one of the norm answered. “If this is what you wish, to break free from the spell that keep you so well behave, you have to get back what its content belong to you back from the lady. Holding it up high on the peak of the Midgard Mountain shall the sunlight break the bond and return your memories and power, good and bad.”

“What do you mean the content belong to me?”

“A magic crystal in the shape of a shell the woman hold, guess it would be obvious to you.” The norm giggled.

The shell! Rig remember the one he saw on her nightstand one night, she was protective of it and wouldn’t let him touch it or see it. There are some goldish color grow from the shell itself.

He always wonder what it is. Now look like that the key that holding everything back to him, why would she do that? Rig can’t understand.

“And before you said that’s all I need. You will know once the spell is broken, it can’t be fixed, nor the king of the aesir even able to help you or even you beg from us. Now, the Rig the mortal, how much it mean to you to get back what was once belong to you?”

"Everything.” Both Rig and norm said.

“Very well then, you have what you need and soon you will learn that “

“Perhaps you can learn more from the ghost of sparta, he know this very well.” “Hmm” Kratos getting irrated.

“We should go lad.”

Back to the surface, Rig have a lot in mind, after what the norms said.

“That’s was quite a journey eh. So have you decided yet lad.” Mimir asked Rig.

“Go and get back what belong to me, As the norms said.”

“Well I'm not sure why the lady hold the very thing that you need to get what you wanted, but I think it is out of good cause.”

“She lied.”

Rig not facing them and start walking to continue his journey.

“I will be my own now, ..thanks for the help.”

Both Mimir and Kratos didn’t say a word and watch him slowly walk away and disappear in the foggy weather.

“Oh boy, I hope we are doing the right thing.”

“He deserve to know the truth, that what you said to him”

“Aye aye, it just I didn’t expect the lady has something to do with it.”

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Rig couldn’t stop thinking why she hold the thing, the magic shell that hold him here, is she a witch?

Trying to put him in this character of Rig that don’t even exist? The more he think the more he pissed about it, about her.

She was someone he trusted. The time when he asked about himself and the time he been through the nightmare, she been pretend not knowing the whole time! How can she!

In Rig mind, she is slowly turn to a monster trying to drag him down to the dark puddle.

He started to hate her.

He might be hateful enough to use his sword on her if she refused to gave it to him.

Rig walked for not sure how long, he can see the familiar cottage. Slowly he approach, his only objective here is to get the shell and run away, but if he couldn’t avoid to come in contact with her.

Unsheathe his sword to be ready if the worse happened.

Slowly pushing the door, she is not around but Ray is still here mean she wouldn’t been far.

It’s the chance.

Running through her nightstand, bed frame and storage. No sign of the shell.

“Shit! Where is it!!” Rig cursed, she might be back anytime soon.

Perhaps Rig don’t want to come in the contact with her, or else he will be force to use his sword, he will get back what is his, no matter what it cause.

Especially after all this time she been hiding and lie to him, it make her so unforgivable, just a thought about her make him frown.

The house is a mess now, Rig unbox all her belonging and still no sign of the shell.

She might be holding it, that witch! Just when he planning on the next move, he realized there is one more place he didn’t check, his bed.

It couldn’t be, but it worth to check. Kneel down and check the floor under the bed, there is nothing, but something that stick on the upper side of bed frame catch his eye, a small box with almost the same color as the bedframe and almost blend in.

Looking at his hand now with the small box, he unboxes it. the familiar golden glowing from inside.

“There it is! I got it!” Before he can be relieved, the footstep from outside is approaching this house.

She is back.

Rig steadied himself, thinking whether should he wait until she come in and confront her on this, or just left.

Closing eyes Rig decided to left from the back windows.

There is nothing he need to say to her anymore, nor that he should care what she have to said. It will be more lie from her.

Not looking back the second time, Rig leap out the windows and start running.

He can hear her voice, she must have found out what he did.

Not wanting to see her, Rig just keep running.

“Rig!!!” She cried out.

Her voice is like a spell that hold him in place, Rig stop running, he never hear her so out of place.

Turning back his head, he want to ask what she did this, but a harsh words came out instead.

“Stay.Away. From me! You witch! You are really a good lie huh? The whole time!? You rather see me suffer than help me?!”

Rig looked at her for a few second before open his mouth again.

“You are a monster.” Said with no emotion attach to him.

“Wait I can explain--!” Before she can finish, Rig unsheathed his sword, a way of telling her he don’t care about what she going to say anymore.

He starts to walk again, not looking back anymore, the only thing he can hear is hear crying.

Usually, Rig will be very worried of what make her cry like this and will definitely make others pay for what they did to her, but now he couldn’t care much.

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What awaits Rig is the tall mountain in front of him, he need to reach the top using the sunlight to break the spell. Walking in the abandoned mining site, he can sense there are troll and hel-walker lurking around.

With no fear in his eyes, he killed all of them, in a rage of been lied at and how he is so dumb never suspect anything.

Notice the lever that can help get him to the top of the mountain but is broken.

Rig might be capable of hunting and doing chores but fixing such things is not in the list.

“ughh!! Shit!” Getting frustrated more he punched the handler.

“Isn’t that the sacseed of the All-fucker!” Rig turned around hand ready on the weapon.

“No need to get so crancky. This broken pieace of chunk wouldn’t get you to the top of the mountain even if you kill me little shit.”

“...Can you fix it?”  “What now?”

“Can. You. Fix it.”

“Is that a question or an order, don’t answer I don’t take shit from anyone, will it cause you your dick if you ask nicely. Guess this is the all fucker gene to be impolite to anyone.”

“Could you help me…please.”

“that’s more like it!” Rig is speechless at the way the dwarf speak. As long as he can help him to get to the top he wouldn’t mind.

“I need the shining stone with blue light oozing from it at that corner” “What?”

“Are you going to help now or you just going to sit here and wait like a piece of crap!” Rig sighed and make a move to get what the dwarf want and so he think this is the only material he need, no there is more.

Rig grunt every time he is asked to get more stuff.

“Alright, that should work now. Go and try it.” The dwarf step aside.

Rig get into the lever and turned the handler and it move. It works at last.

“Well look at that, aint dwarf works is some magic.”

“It sure is.” Rig have to agree on that, the dwarf just make it out of nowhere.

“What your name dwarf.” “Brok!” The dwarf shout from the ground.

“..Alright Brok, thanks for the help. Appreciate it.” Rig look down and said.

“Aren’t you Heimdall?” That’s doesn’t sound like a question to him.

For some reason he hestitated. He is not going to use the fake name the witch gave to him but Mimir said when he was Heimdall he is prick to everyone.

This can be change, he is not what they think he is anymore, everyone is capable of changing.

“Yes, I am. I’m Heimdall.” At last he decided to abandon that fake name Rig.

He do like his name Rig though, but continue to call himself Rig make him sick.

”I guess I’m going to see you more you little turd.”

Reaching to the highest, he can see the top of the mountain now.

He started to running toward to reach the mountain. It come to the hard part, there is no stair for him to walk to the top, the last few step he is going to be break free form the spell.

Grunted loudly, he try to think of a wait. No he can ask the dwarf nor that Kratos and Mimir nearby.

“You gotta be kidding me.” Looking at his only hand. This is not going to stop him, he will do it if he have to.

He can see there are lot of overgrown root dangling from the top, biting on the root and one hand start moving up, he start to climb, with mouth take place of the lose arm.

There are time he almost fall, but it didn’t stop him.

“God damn it!” Reached the top he lay on the ground and pant.

So, here he is. The final moment he will be free from the spell. Standing on the top of the mountain, he has the shell in his hand now.

Thinking of her, all the thing she did to make him suffer, but also all the good time they have, how she always look out for him.

It’s really just a lie isn’t? He think again, feeling numb.

Sunlight now shine on the mountain, holding his hand high with the shell.

The sunlight shine into the crystal like shell and soon he can feel some power inside, ready to burst out and it did.

A power that is so great it break free from the shell and shattered it, he fell to the ground from the force and right at he open his eyes the golden energy flow into his eyes.

“AHHHH!!!” It hurt so much he struggle on the ground.

Right after the energy flow into  his eyes, he fell the power of it, he can hear and see so far so many details its overwhelming.

The next thing come in, which is his memories of everything, Asgard, father, brothers, duty, Gjallarhorn, Gulltoppr, Atreus, Kratos and her!

Overwhelm with the foresight, Heimdall try to calm himself down and shut of his sense.

That was his wife.

Heimdall sitting on the ground and try to process the excessive information that flow back to him.

“Shit.” Heimdall eyes now is fuel with bifrost, a golden color shine like his brother Tyr or Mimir.

The spell his father put on him is no longer on him. The spell that keep him to read his father mind, he knew long time ago his sensed something from his father, the loyality to Asgard and his people, but before Heimdall can know more, the spell already casted on him. A gift his father said.

At the last part of his memories is Kratos strangle him to dead.

“Kratos” Heimdall frowned, at this point he not sure if he still hate him cause he knew what his father did but still doesn’t change the fact that Kratos killed him.

Heimdall stand up and look down the mountain.

The small cottage is not visible from here, it was deep in the middle of the wood. Heimdall have to get back to her.

The whole time she was his wife, wanting to know why his wife did this Heimdall trying to read her from this far as he located the cottage in his mind, but he can’t sense anything like there is no one alive in the small house nor that he can sense here anywhere nearby the house too.

Heimdall getting nervous of what happened.

Using the same way Heimdall lower down to the lever and start to get down back to the mine.

“Look like you get what you wanted!” Brok spoke.

“Hey you dwarf! Open up a passage let me back to my house!” Heimdall said in hurried.

“You really just changed like that huh, is your manner went like the goat fart in the hurricane?!”

“Look, I’m not in the mood to argue with you dwarf—I mean- Brok. I need to get back now!” Heimdall trying to sound polite.

Brok mumbling something and he walk to grab a stone and tossed to him.

“Now, grab on the stone and think of the place you want to go and say Hvergi and your fat ass will end up landing the place you want to be you very welcome!”

With no hestitation, Heimdall think of the cottage in the forest of Midgard.

“Hvergi!” A bright blue portal open behind him and he fell in.

Fell on the ground is the familiar cold. The small cottage is still the same but something is different, he can’t sense anyone inside.

Open the door, he can’t find her at all, but a letter on the table under the small wood carved of himself.

Reading on the letter Heimdall feel the pain and tear threaten to fall.

That was a Vanir spell to she learn from Freya, use it to bring him back.

Getting all this four part of his soul to revive him. But knowing the moment she revive him, he is just going to be control again by Odin his father blind him with fake lies and soon he is going to go after Kratos again.

She decided to do more than just revive him.

She pull out every memories and power from his body and put in the container that was forged with bond of her soul, because of that she will die the moment he gain back his memories and power that break the shell, due to the soul binding to the shell, her soul would not be able to reach the light of Alfheim.

The more Heimdall read the more it hurt him, she went to that extend to make sure he will be free from his father curse.

Tear dropping on the letter, causing the word to blur out.

Looking at her last three word.

He cries silently.

Heimdall sitting outside of the the cottage, letting the snows to fall and cover him.

Despite of getting back everything, he seems lifeless than before.

He just killed the one who loved him the most and the last thing he said to her is so unkind - monster.

Heimdall been sitting the same spot for a long time, he can’t stop thinking of what he done.

These two years was the happiest time of his life, the last gift she gave to him out of love.

“Don’t leave me alone..” No one answer Heimdall but the cold wind.

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“Allfather, there is a situation outside the wall. You need to see it.” Sif said in a hurry.

“Sif, what’s the matter? Is everything fine in the new Midgard?”

“The refugees is fine, but someone unusual come.” It alert Odin, no one able to reach Asgard without him notice or agreement.

After the Ragnarok, thing turn into a way Odin never thought of, a long-term truce between the enemies, as long as Odin would not interfere the affairs in other realms and withdraw all his soldiers back, they will not attack on Asgard.

Seeing the opportunity to extend his time and his obsession on the mask, he too saw fit to agree.

So the Ragnarok was ended even before it can start, it seems like this is also the reason the winter in Midgard never stop too.

Odin transported by his raven landed in the new Midgard, try to see what Sif has told him the unusual someone.

Sensing someone from his back, hand on his spear ready if the stranger make a move.

“All father” The familiar voice.

“Heimdall?” Odin is shocked to see him standing infront alive.

Heimdall cover  himself with a rag he grab from his house trying to keep his profile low, Odin notice something different from him apart the missing limb.

His eyes its no longer with the loyalty spell he put on him.

“Heimdall! My son!” Odin trying to hug Heimdall, but Heimdall move a step backward.

Odin speechless at him, dropped his hand to his side.

“Where have you been? I sent out the einherjar to find you but no one can find you.”

Heimdall knowing what his father thinking, instead of tearing his father fake mask, he play along.

“I was saved by my wife. She kept me save in a small place in Midgard to heal me back to live.”

“For two years?” Odin question his son.

“Yes.”

“Well.. I don’t know what to say son, but I’m happy that you are back. Come come, it’s been a long time you back to home” Odin put handle on Heimdall’s shoulder.

Home, the word only sound right when he back to the small cottage in the Midgard with his wife together, work together, hunt and eat together, time flies and now they become the most precious memories to him.

“All father”   “Thor! Look at who I found today! Heimdall! He is back to home.” Odin said.

“Heimdall..”   “Thor.” Heimdall call out.

“Where the hell have you been, do you know the shit we been through to gain the peace?! Where the hel have you been!!” Thor enraged by the Heimdall, especially seeing how calm he is after all these time disappear.

Thor was one of them who search for Heimdall, in fact he is the one search for longest even the Einherjar retreated to Asgard, he did fall back to drink for quite some time because of it too.

Yes their family is dysfunctional, but Thor deep down still care for his brother despite them being reckless, ruthless, being on enemies side or went insane.

Heimdall know how Thor feel toward him too, his abilities can read it from his mind that in Asgard other than his wife, Thor is the one care about him the most.

“Answer me!!” Enraged Thor grab on Heimdall’s rag and pull toward him.

Thor’s eyes are fuel with rage, maybe the next second he might throw Mjolnir at him, but Heimdall know he wouldn’t cause his foresight didn’t see that in the path.

“Enough Thor!!” Odin ordered Thor to stop.

“Heimdall is back, this is the only important thing!”

Heimdall know the meaning behind this, so he can be his pawn again and use as he see fit, not caring even a little for his sons.

Baldur wouldn’t die if he genuinely care.

Heimdall keep his thought to himself, he have to be smart this time, couldn’t let his father to has the chance to place a hand on him again.

“Come on son, we got to celebrate! This is a good news to Asgard. The guardian of the realm is back!” What a lovely title his father gave to him.

“I’m not here to feast. I’m just here to talk and I will have to go.”

“Why son? You just back.” Odin sound confused, but he know his father is smart, everything he do is just an act.

“I have to get my wife back.”

“What happened to her? Is she alright?” His father asked.

“..She die in the process of saving me.”

Not trusting his father anymore, Heimdall tell him half true and half lie. She did died because of him.

“I’m so sorry son, I’m sorry really.” Odin trying to comfort him.

Not wanting to continue this conversation with his father.

“Thor, Where is Sif?”

“Why you ask, she is in the mead hall.”

Not wanting to waste his time, he walk out.

“Son, where are you going?”    “I will be back to Asgard again.”

Odin feeling frustrated but not stopping him, with no spell on him its hard to make him listen.

Now Asgard is in peace, Odin don’t feel the urge to need his son to stay, he could go as he please but when time come he sure will put collar back on him again, that's the promise Odin think to himself. Not wanting to waste his time, Odin back to his study continue his obsession on the mask.

“Heimdall. You are back”

“Sif, there are something I need your favour.” Sif is surprise this is the Heimdall he know, the way he look and talk now is so different to how he used to be.

“If a person die due to the spell that bonding their soul is broken, will there be a chance they can be save?” Sif is shocked at the question he asked, not wanting to question why he asked.

“Heimdall, If that person die of because of the spell broken, their soul will be gone too, there won’t make it to Alfheim and they won’t be going to Vahalla either.”

She hate to break this news to him, he look very desparate and eyes full of sorrow that he never seen from him before, but he have to know.

“I’m sorry Heimdall, whoever you are trying to bring back is gone.”

“You are the goddess of earth and family, surely there is something you can do!” Heimdall raising his voice, not able to see it through and he refuse to accept the fate his wife is gone and not even her soul can be find.

“Heimdall, I’m sorry there is nothing I can do, perhaps the only person that can help you is All-father former wife.”

“I asked Freya before..she can’t help.”

“If she can’t, what make you think I can? Heimdall you need to face the reality. No one ever gone like this can be bring back.”

Sif touch his shoulder before she left. Left Heimdall standing there not moving at all.

After that, Heimdall just left Asgard, without saying a word to anyone.

He back to the small cottage, no one know why, but he keep staying there for the past few months.

Perhaps he trying to cope with the sadness of losing his dear one.

His hair is growing longer, not caring to shave, his bread grow too.

He’s been writing lot of letter, all the thing he was going to say to his wife.

How much he miss her and how much he love her and will bring her back no matter what.

There are so many letter it’s literally everywhere, a spark will start up a big fire to burn this whole house down.

The winter in Midgard stopped not long ago too, as if the winter stopped cause Heimdall is back, perhaps it’s really the reason.

Grass around the house is growing, the sunshine on the greenery field make it look a heaven.

If only his wife can see it. Sometime Heimdall just sit at the small port they made, wait his love that will never be back again.

Not sure how long it has been, he back to Asgard again, this time it seems Heimdall will leave again for a quite a long time before he will be back again.

“Thor.”

“The hel you scare me, don’t just suddenly shows up like this” Thor getting scared by his sudden appearance.

“What is it this time? You decide to come back and pick up your duty again?”

“No, I’m going to leave to earth for a long time, I won’t be back soon.”

“Earth? You mean Midgard?”

“No, the other Earth.”

“What the hel you want to-”

“To find my wife.”

“Heimdall, you really can’t just accept it don’t you.” Thor does not understand his brother action at all. How long he will be away this time? Ten years? Hundred years?

“..”Heimdall not giving him any answer cause his brother already know.

“Just come back once you done. Don’t be too long.”

“Before I leave, I need you to make sure Asgard will be safe.”

Although Heimdall been betray by his father but his love to this realm is still the same.

This place is also the place him and his wife used to live their lives.

Now to think back, he was so naïve back then and not knowing the time they spent is so short and precious.

“..I will, I will take care of Asgard.” Thor answered.

Heimdall about to go.

“And watch over father, make sure he didn’t do anything reckless this time.” Thor watch Heimdall walking away.

“Thank you, Thor.”

That’s was the last word Heimdall say before he teleport.

Thor is surprised by his brother being polite and appreciate others help, not knowing how to react, Thor started to laugh loudly.

His younger brother sure changed a lot.

No one know how long Heimdall has gone. five years? ten years? Or way longer than that.

The small cottage now is covered with overgrown grasses, the rooftop is full of big hole, water leaking in. Weed and fungus growing inside making their new kingdom.

Now it just looks like the ruins near by the house.

Heimdall standing on the seashore, he reached the earth.

Walking follows the line of waves he watches the sun set.

He who so eagle-eyed that he can see the least movement a hundred leagues away.

He who can hear grass growing and the sound of wool on a sheep’s back growing.

Away from his home Asgard, come to the earth, searching the soul of his dear one.

One day he might bring his love one back to Asgard with him.

To rejoice with his love one.

--   The End   --

[neighboringheart]

hi I hope you're having a good day

may I inquire about yours ocs? c:

anon get out here get out here so I can hold your hand and know your face and leave a lil smooch on your cheek (I'm already giving one to @eclipsedmoon87 for replying to my other post asking about them lmao this is for the both of you)

okay so this is gonna get kinda long so just bear with me here

I've got a handful of different OCs but there's only two that I've really fleshed out and I will tell you about them now!

before I start telling you about them tho it's important to establish that they're a part of an AU that's an offshoot of the end of MTMTE/LL in which that the universe they end up in has a cybertron but every Cybertronian is a beastformer

and my OCs are two of these beastformers! they are twin turbofoxes named Turnpike and Trailhead

Trailhead is excitable but just as easily spooked and incredibly fucking smart. He loves experiments of all kinds (even if they're not the safest) and he causes Turn so so much fucking stress all the time from how reckless he can be. He's always carrying some type of blaster, but he's not really that good of a shot. Beware all who may be in the general direction of where he's aiming. He's also religious, but not in a way that was considered palatable back planet-side, as he believes that with the bodies and capabilities Primus gave them, they should use their longevity to find out the full potential of what they can do with their own bodies. Basically, he loves mods and loves his alt-mode dearly, which is frowned upon back home.

Turnpike is the more level headed of the two, they are very stoic, standoffish, and incredible with swords. I'm working on the worldbuilding for this AU still, but I've fully cemented that Turn used to be a fighter in the arena back on Cybertron. They're not religious per se, but like they believe in Primus and similarly to Trail believe that Primus gave them their ability to transform for a reason, and that their robot modes are not their "true form" but that both are equally true and ingrained into them. They have a hard time getting close to people due to how alienated they were before being recruited in the arena. Even after gaining mass popularity there, they still didn't like all that attention and were generally mistrustful of many people.

The two of them are sent out on a mission to gather energon from lifeless or abandoned planets since the naturally occurring energon that was provided by the fruits that grew on Primus' Hand (a giant ass cyber tree that basically spans over the entire planet in one giant system lol it looks like a forest but is actually all one organism) but those trees stopped growing at around the same time that the Blight appeared

The Blight is basically a neurodegenerative disease that causes any who contract it to gradually lose more and more of their memory and have lapses where they will transform into their beast mode for extended periods with little to no responsiveness where they may wander or become aggressive until one day they transform and never return to their robot mode. Their memories and ability to communicate disappear leaving them as seemingly nothing but a standard mechanimal if it weren't for their transformation seams remaining. Despite meticulous research, the cause and cure are still a mystery

luckily the Blight doesn't kill whoever contracts it, but they're not the same after. most who undergo a full regression end up escaping into the wilds never to be seen again beyond occasional glimpses

While on this mission, their ship is critically damaged and despite it being taboo for cybertronians to communicate with outsiders, Trailhead rigs a distress beacon that ends up being answered by the Lost Light

from there the two of them meet the crew and learn things about themselves and I have more plot ideas planned there but I'll leave that a mystery for now because that's more fun

instead I'll keep telling you some little things about my OCs bc that's what you came here for lmao

since they are turbofoxes, the two of them can be very mischievous especially when they team up and the Lost Light crew finds out very quickly just how wild the two of them can get when properly motivated which is quite often since Trailhead is usually the instigator and Turnpike gets bored a lot

other tidbits to note:

Turnpike is a bit of a lurker and loves to sneak around where they can't be seen. They've got some attention deflectors that Trail made specifically for them so they could avoid fans back home and they love to use them to spy on the crew even if Minimus has told them it's against regulation. They'll stop spying once they know they and Trailhead are actually safe aboard their ship. Before long, they learn just how much they love the simple things: music, arts and crafts, and even dancing. That's when they finally start to break out of their shell and really become close with the others

Trailhead has no such hang ups however. Within minutes of meeting and talking to Brainstorm he immediately dove into finding out everything he could from him and Perceptor. By that first night aboard he's already getting drunk at Swerve's with Brainstorm and Nautica and making friends with everyone he can. His biggest vice however is his vanity. With a life of working in a lab day after day and nothing else to do with his spare time, he became incredibly invested in his own appearance, and as such is very protective of it. One scratch in his finish and his mood is dashed for the rest of the day.

and here's some design concepts I've put together for them. The ones in color I originally traced from a panel of dominus bc I was just trying to figure out a direction and I can't draw for shit so like ignore that I'm working on it lol and the second one is a sketch where I'm just trying to figure out some more realism in the way they're put together like in terms of joints (been inspired after assembling a few model kits I guess lol) as well as playing with some shapes.

(the one with the pink is Trailhead as you could likely guess lol he likes his colors bright)

Anyway I'm still figuring that out and I'm way more of a writer than an artist so any work there is especially slow going forgive me but like hopefully you can see what I'm going for there

some other fun notes:

the two of them become obsessed with Minimus. They love to call him big brother to get on his nerves. For them, it was a term of endearment used with the other turbofoxformers in their skulk in the old days, but after everyone else caught the Blight, Minimus is the first other turbofox they've seen in centuries, so in addition to it being entertaining to call him that bc it irritates them, it's also comforting in a way. They also love how small he is since on their Cybertron turbofoxes are quite a bit larger than in the LL Cybertron. they're both a little over a head taller than Minimus when he's irreducible. Once they get comfortable with the crew, they're constantly plotting how they're gonna get Minimus into the nest they share so they can all sleep in a pile in their alts like Primus intended (according to Trailhead anyway Turnpike just likes it bc it's cozy)

but yeah I've got like a million random notes about this AU and these two scattered all over my docs and one day I'll have the motivation to actually write the whole damn thing lmao but for now I hope y'all enjoyed my ramble about them and please tell me what you think of my little guys

oh and I haven't gotten their sexualities set in stone yet since I'm still trying to figure out what kind of endgame would be the best narratively for them both I'm pretty set on Turnpike just not really giving af but being a total romantic who commits to one partner only and that Trailhead is somewhere in the ace and aro spectrums like he doesn't really give af about romance or interface but also isn't opposed to fucking around with his friends if he thinks it might be fun and he enjoys making other people feel good and hasn't figured out what he wants long term just yet

so like I know I wanna pair Turnpike up with someone (and already have someone in mind feel free to guess) and as for Trailhead I'm still not sure what his love life will look like just yet hell I might even leave that one open ended if it would serve the story better I just know that he'd be happy to find the friends he finds on the Lost Light they both are but I feel like he'd find satisfaction in that alone while Turnpike would want more if that makes sense

I also had an idea for him ending up in a sort of queerplatonic polycule situation with some of the other characters that I thought might be fun to explore but it would be a while before I'd get the logistics of that down well enough to be able to implement that so we'll see lol more people = more complexity and I can only handle so much of that before my brain starts to smoke but the image is in my mind and I want to make it real if I can

oh god I accidentally talked about this a lot longer than intended lol I hope anon and anybody else who might be reading this likes these dorks too bc I need the motivation to write this story and also would love people to bump ideas off of for potential side plots and such since I want to write something more long form and there's a lot of blanks still

at last my little guys are unleashed on the world uh T&T be upon ye

[stray-kaz]

There Goes My Life : a Jesper Fahey x f!reader FF assortment : Three

Summary: Jesper’s missing piece is found in the form of an unexpected joy. 

No warnings, unless Jesper being saccharine is a warning.

You boarded the ship bound for Kerch right at Jesper’s heels, too long coat swishing around your boots. You hated to admit it, but you were still shaky after what had happened in the Fold with Alina and the Darkling. Jesper had gotten knocked unconscious and the short sword strapped to your left leg had seemed all too useless in the face of the dark. Nevertheless, it was now stained with volcra blood because one of them had come back for him and you stood in the way.

Jesper sat near the rigging and pulled you unceremoniously down on his lap, ignoring Kaz’s sharp glance and splaying his hands over your stomach. Surprised, you glanced back at him just as he pressed his face into the nape of your neck, dragging the high coat collar out of the way.

Inej looked on, a small smile playing about her lips. She didn’t believe she had seen an unborn baby make a man fall in love with a woman before, but she was seeing it now.

“Maybe warn me about the sword next time” Jesper mumbled into your neck.

You snorted quietly.

“Next time?” you repeated. “Next time we cross the Fold, Jesper? Or just the next time you’re knocked out and a monster wants to eat you?”

He tightened his grip on you and the wind whooshed out of your lungs a little.

“Don’t die for me, love” he said, tensed and serious where you couldn’t see his face.

“But name a better thing for which I should die” you said.

Inej sucked in a breath and Kaz looked right away, unwilling, perhaps unable, to witness what must surely come next.

Jesper grabbed you, tensed his shoulders hard, and bodily lifted you all the way around to face him, your hips now flush to his. Your breath caught in your throat as you found yourself nose to nose with him, rarely this close with clothes on. Jesper curled his right hand into a fist and tapped it gently to your heart and then to your belly, resting it in place there.

“This baby has no name yet” he murmured, eyes warm and locked on yours.

A few feet away from them, unknown to all four Crows, a woman with a hat pulled low was listening, eyebrows arched high. She had tabbed them as gang members as soon as she saw them, but what kind of gang members had a baby on the way?

You gazed back at Jesper, biting your lip, and felt the ship start to move underneath you. Just as it did, and before you could open your mouth, a brightly dressed woman with a wide smile bent down to you both and put a hand on your shoulder and a hand on Jesper’s shoulder. You both looked up, startled, into a beautiful Zemeni face. You smiled uncertainly, but before you or Jesper could say anything, the woman did.

“Congratulations on your gorgeous daughter” she said, her voice like music. 

She nodded to Jesper, who was staring up at her, mouth open, stunned into uncommon silence.

“She’s going to look just like you” she told him. “And be just as cheeky.”

She ran a gentle hand over your hair and wandered away across the ship’s deck. You stared at Jesper, flummoxed.

“I...” you started, and found nothing ready to say.

Then, slowly, a grin unraveled across Jesper’s mouth, and his brown eyes gleamed. You watched him, wary and waiting.

“Well, at least we know she’ll look like me!”

You lifted a hand to swat him, but he grabbed your wrist and held it. He brought it to his mouth and kissed the bounding pulse, his melting eyes raised to yours. Your heart in your throat, you waited for him to speak, the imprint of his lips on your wrist still sweetly burning.

“So do I get to name her now?”

Tagging: @writingmysanity​

[pidgecv]

early morning ramblings///

posting this for funsies

pidge talks about romance as horror for far too long and makes no sense in the process 2024 colorized

relationships as a vessel for psychological horror has always been something that fascinates me. take killing stalking for example. a viscerally disgusting and terrible work of horror fiction that i honestly find really compelling conceptually. now did SOME of the fandom™️ completely miss the point and just go “omg yaoi” yes, they did. and yeah the story is like,, not my thing exactly in execution i didn’t finish the comic itself. im not the biggest fan of gore and it crossed my personal line into shock horror (got a bit too into the wrong kind of uncomfortable) but it’s all preference. however, the inherent horror of things like stockholm syndrome, or the idea of a frankenstein being infatuated with his monster not because of who they are but because he made them are both SO interesting. imagine a person loving someone who they have manipulated and abused past the point of humanity. not romantically necessarily (though yeah that’s totally a thing, that all-consuming fascination being misunderstood as a sick romance) rather like a personal project they’re absolutely obsessed with. their creation. except that creation has feelings as well. or maybe in extreme cases, used to at least. problem is it’s difficult to write platonically, since a lot of that stuff can come off as romanticizing abuse and it’s a very delicate topic. deffo easier to have someone eat their own arm and call it a day. going back to stockholm syndrome, in a way it’s a removal of agency (which is a staple of horror media lol). so the horror could be applied both ways, the obsessed and the obsession. the monster and its twisted creator. the inhuman and the inhumane. idk it’s just so damn interesting. it gets complicated and tricky to pull off, but horror doesn’t mix well with cut corners. i may try and expand on this sort of idea but in a far less extreme way for the swapverse. absolutely nothing romantic, in fact i headcanon (or i guess canon?) both versions of cleo as aroace (fully, not just somewhere in the middle of the aroace spectrum but completely disinterested in romance and sex repulsed) ((mostly just wanted to explore familial and platonic bonds without having to consider any sort of romantic stuff)) (((yes s!cleo had a boyfriend pre apox. it was qpr, they were both aroace but were besties for the resties and were gonna marry for tax purposes))). but i’d love to pull off a platonic obsession. jo would absolutely obsess over her work. she would be so proud of herself for creating cleo. living (debatably) proof of her skill. her magnum opus. every success of cleo’s is actually jos, but also every failure is taken the same way. jo sees it as her own failure, and takes out that selfish anger on cleo or even V sometimes. cleo struggles with her humanity. she was one of the first infected. not patient 0, but one of the first. early enough to have been institutionalized and studied at least. and jo has twisted her memories so much that cleo doesn’t know anything about herself except that she belongs to jo. she’s property, a dangerous weapon. that’s what makes their deaths so poetic. jo dies at the hands of V, through her own weapon. because while cleo hit the detonator, it was V who rigged the bomb. Cleo and jo depend on each other so much. the way you need the sword to cut but the sword needs you to polish. to sharpen. even to forge. of course V is the only one who survives. cleo was never going to be able to live without jo and vice versa. they weren’t friends. they weren’t family. they were something else entirely, something torturous and hateful and tragic. a dynamic of lies and manipulation and cruelty. they died as they lived, together. while the original final lives cast was threatened by the new world, they managed to overcome it by being a team. in the swapverse, the outside world was never the threat. they dominated the apocalypse, thriving compared to the og crew. but they were torn apart from the inside, and they couldn’t overcome it. yet another reflection of the original cast. i was gonna type more but hit tumblr limit goodnight fazgang

[lukesshowcaseplace]

Season 1 of my Transformers Series (which i am still trying to find a good name for) now has episodic summaries! Some arcs may tie into these quite a bit, so do keep that in mind as you read this!

Alright, here goes nothing!!

Episode 1 (The Arrival: More than Meets the Eye)

A squad of Autobots led by Optimus pursue Megatron and his Decepticons through space and crashland on Earth.

Episode 2 (The Arrival: Robots in Disguise)

Both factions reawaken on Earth 4 million years later, with Optimus meeting Sparkplug and Spike Witwickey while attempting to stop Megatron's attack on an ore rig containing Ore-13.

Episode 3 (Sneaking Suspicions)

Bumblebee and Spike sneak their way into Decepticon Headquarters and discover Megatron's plans to trap the Autobots inside their own base, only to discover that he already enacted his plan.

Episode 4 (War Stories)

Ironhide is confronted by a horrific memory from his past while fighting Wildrider, worsened by the situation being weaponized against him.

Episode 5 (He Never Learns)

Starscream fails at a scheme for power and leadership, but before he returns to duty, he unintentionally finds out that Ore-13 gives him a power boost before trying his schemes again with his newfound power.

Episode 6 (Bridge Between Worlds)

Shockwave and Megatron construct a Space Bridge network between Earth and Cybertron, leading the Autobots to attempt to stop the Decepticons from using it to transport their resources to Cybertron.

Episode 7 (Those That Tasted The Bite Of His Sword)

Wheeljack and the other Autobots, while uncovering more of their base, discover the stasis-locked body of Grimlock, who was buried beneath the Earth for millions of years before being reactivated and learning of life on Earth by him and Spike.  Meanwhile, Megatron finds the rest of the Stunticons, giving them the ability to merge into Menasor.

Episode 8 (Cliff Hanger)

Cliffjumper gets captured by the Decepticons during an ambush on the Autobots, fighting his way through Decepticon HQ to find a way out.  Thundercracker temporarily teams up with him to uncover a Decepticon conspiracy involving the Allspark.

Episode 9 (Unwavering Honor)

Optimus Prime and Sky-Byte discuss Cybertron's past after a long battle and declaring a temporary ceasefire.

Episode 10 (Business is Business)

The feared Bounty Hunter Lockdown travels to Earth after accepting a deal from Megatron, which involved hunting Optimus Prime down and delivering him to Megatron personally.

Episode 11 (Kicking Things Up a Notch)

Jazz learns to use his love of music and his skills in more creative ways after Skywarp gets the drop on him while jamming to a rock concert.

Episode 12 (Magnum Opus: Part 1)

Megatron sends out Delta Magnum against Optimus Prime to torture him.  Optimus must devise a plan as to how he's going to get him to remember who he once was.

Episode 13 (Magnum Opus, Part 2)

Optimus Prime finally comes up with a plan, confronting Delta Magnum again to make him remember that he was once Ultra Magnus, Optimus' brother.

Episode 14 (All Hail Megatron)

Lugnut is summoned to Earth to counter Grimlock, which both become fierce rivals with each other.

Episode 15 (Confliction)

Thundercracker becomes heavily embittered after getting left behind by the Decepticons, leading him to surrender to the Autobots and give them vital information that could help them free Spike and Sparkplug from Megatron.

Episode 16 (Blitzed)

Blitzwing develops a rapid-transformation grenade, which he tests on most of the Autobots during a battle for the legendary Gold Mines.  Ratchet and Wheeljack attempt to make an antidote before the others tire out.

Episode 17 (Replication)

Megatron decides to use a small sample of Ore-13 in an experiment to develop new abilities, which results in Megatron being able to duplicate himself and attempt to crush the Autobots once and for all.

Episode 18 (The Ultimate Weapon: Part 1)

Megatron and his Decepticons attempt to lure the Autobots away from their base, using the Space Bridge to beam themselves and all the Ore-13 they collected back to Cybertron.  Thundercracker attempts to thwart Megatron, but is killed instead.  Afterwards, Megatron successfully activates his Ultimate Weapon: the God Gun.

Episode 19 (The Ultimate Weapon: Part 2)

Shockwave betrays Megatron and reveals that the God Gun project was an elaborate scheme by the former to collapse the entire universe into Cybertron, effectively risking the planet and the universe in favor of infinite energy.  Optimus and Megatron attempt to defeat him several times, but both fail.

Episode 20 (The Ultimate Weapon, Part 3)

Starscream teams up with the Autobots to stop Shockwave, eventually deactivating and destroying the God Gun while restoring proper balance to the universe.

[outsidereveries]

hi! these questions might be vague and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to but: what will be the boys planet group concept? is there really not gonna be rigged members and if there is, how will this affect them group and dynamic wise? love ur readings!! <3

— zerobaseone’s concept; possible rigged members and their possible relationship after knowing this

disclaimer: i have limited knowledge. my readings might be inaccurate because of changing energies and misinterpretation.

zerobaseone’s concept: the lovers, the star, temperance, nine of pentacles rx, ace of pentacles • king of swords

in comparison to other boy groups, cuter. i can see dreamy concept in some way, even more dreamy than iz*one’s in some aspects. i feel it will be love-themed, with dependence on other people. i can see thankfulness, best wishes, these things.

overall, cute concept with love elements.

are there rigged members?: four of diamonds, jack of spades, king of hearts, eight of spades, queen of diamonds, nine of clubs

i’d say yes but not as much as in the previous shows. the members that debuted have stable korean audience and this affected mnet’s final desicion.

i’d say three members had to debut in the place of some others.

if the court cards are only trainess:

queen of diamonds might be kum junhyeon/lee hoetaek/lee jeonghyeon/yoo seungeon//ricky/kim gyuvin/park gunwook/han yujin if they have more feminine energy as of current time

king of hearts might be park hanbin/jay/keita//kim taerae

jack of spades might be yoon jongwoo/na kamden//sung hanbin/seok matthew

this is only speculations so 🤷🏻‍♀️

how will affect their group dynamic?: wheel of fortune, three of pentacles, ten of pentacles rx • two of cups

i’d say very, very badly to their teamwork and their relationship with each other, at least to two people. since there isn’t third person whose place isn’t that much rigged at least to my cards, i’d say queen of diamonds might be the one who shuffled everything up, so the idols who have rigged placements for sure might be park hanbin/jay/keita/yoon jongwoo/na kamden (final trainees; personally i’d bet on jay/keita//kamden(?)) with sung hanbin/seok matthew/kim taerae (debut lineup; assuming sung hanbin was top 2 from the beginning to the end, i could remove him)

wish nothing but the best to everyone who was in boys planet, including the zerobaseone members.

[captain-of-the-roses]

Can I offer some Desert Duo Angst in these trying times?

Grian knew, even before killing Scar and being charted off the to barren desert, that 3rd Life was a mistake. He felt like a bird trapped in a cage the second they all spawned in, could hear the buzzing in the air caused by the Watchers' gazes, and could see the way BigB, Martyn, and Jimmy curled in on themselves with similar anxieties.

And then he killed Scar with what was originally an innocent creeper prank. Scar had just laughed and elbowed Grian with teasing pouts, but Grian understood in that instance that the race to the end had begun.

The others clearly realized that then as well. Martyn had rushed off with a laugh that was too shaky to be genuine, Scott had strutted off to the nearby flower field with his sword held too tightly, Cleo had hissed a curse and started to raid what was left of the village.

Yet Scar remained all smiles and joy. He brought over a llama and pushed Grian onto it, had dragged them all the way to what he claimed was the largest desert with the only sand on the entire server and remained reckless despite his lost life.

Grian, on the other hand, grew more and more tense as the days passed by. He built them a home, castle-like in structure and as defensible as one, created farms, and built them weapons. It still didn't feel like enough. So, he pushed himself more. Better armor enchants, an alliance with Jimmy and Scott, a cactus ring around their desert, Grian did everything he could to protect their little home.

At the very least, Scar took notice of that. He never directly approached Grian about it, but he made sure to wear pants more often and always made sure Grian knew where he was going and toned down the antagonism. Little things, but they eased Grian's paranoia.

Of course, then Scar died again. To another of Grian's mistakes, too. He had been telling himself to patch that hole for days, weeks even. But he didn't. And now Scar was red.

So, Grian's nerves shot up again. With Renchanting closing in and the amount of wild cards running around the server -thanks, Joel- and literally everything else, their current defenses were not enough.

Grian built a bunker. He laid the sands of their home with tnt and lava. He rigged the front door of their house. He forced Scar into full body armor and asked for the Hobbits' aid.

It… went alright. Scar didn't die again, thankfully, but that didn't mean there weren't casualties. None on the opposing side, just on theirs. Jimmy, on his final life as he was, had gotten shot, fading away into whatever awaited them at the end of this sick game. Scott and Grian both died as well, losing their first lives and their homes -whether that be the person or place.

As he watched Scott bury a poppy in memorial of Jimmy, Grian thought. His and Scar's house, their small castle lording above the sands, was gone, blown up into pieces. The desert, too, was nothing but a large crater filled with lava and bad memories. Grian wasn't even sure where Scar was, all he had left of the other were two dying poppies and lilacs.

And then, as if summoned by Grian's thoughts, Scar appeared, out of breath and shirtless and oh so happy. He hugged Grian, blabbering on and on about running from the bunker and into the woods, how he saw the death message and had rushed back only to find it empty and Grianless. Grian was oddly touched by both the hug and words, so he hugged back like his life depended on it.

Eventually, after Scott killed Skizz in a fit of rage and Cleo also fell, they teamed up with Joel and a few of the others against the rest of the server. Dogwarts, the Red King and his Hand and underlings, against a terrified, broken group of ragtags.

They lost too many. Joel had foolishly charged at Ren with his wolves and had been slain, taking him to yellow. When he respawned, Martyn and Ren were waiting for him and killed him. Scott, similarly, fell to Ren's bloodstained blade and Martyn's cold eyes.

There were some victories on their side, however. BigB and Etho and Tango were quickly disposed of, Scar landed the killing blow on the King and his Hand, and then there were five.

With a simple trade, a clock tossed into the hands of a violent little man, Impulse died a painful death. BigB followed by the same hands not long after.

Three remained. In an act of betrayal, Scar chose against Grian and sliced an axe through his back. Grian screamed as his vision went black, and then he woke in the bunker. He was greatful that he had bothered to leave behind armor, weapons, and potions in the chest before the fight of the red desert, and he quickly grabbed those and ran back to where Bdubs and Scar stood.

He didn't get the message until he was already swinging his sword at Scar, heartbroken yells ripping from his throat and bloodlust running through his veins. Truth be told, he wasn't sure whether that was because of the betrayal or because of the effects of becoming red. Grian found that he didn't care much at that moment.

Scar is the one to kill Bdubs, to Grian's surprise. A mischievous grin and then an arrow was piercing through the other's back, soon to be followed by him disappearing with the only remains being his half empty inventory.

Grian turned to Scar, still filled with unmanageable fury, but paused when he saw Scar drop his sword and fall to his knees in the small pond they found themselves in. As poppy petals drifted past them and small blue birds chirped in the trees, Scar explained his plan to have killed Bdubs, how he was sorry for turning on Grian in the brief moment, and said he gave his life to Grian, for him to take mercilessly.

Grian couldn't. If the thought of more of Scar's blood on his hands wasn't enough to keep him from murder, the memories of Scar's arms around him as his chest rumbled with soothing words was. Grian dropped his own sword and stepped back, shocked.

He denied the offering Scar readily gave him, shook off the repeated pleas and ignored the gaze boring into the back of his head. But he wasn't allowed to have even that, for the spirits that remained and the Watchers chanted for blood.

With a fond smile and exhausted sigh, Scar took Grian's hand and the two of them walked back to their desert, trying desperately to ignore the demands. As the sun began to rise around them, they built a ring of cactus around Pizza The Llama's grave, removed their armor, and stared into each other's eyes.

"Are we ready?" Grian asked, trying to blink away tears. His hands were already shaking and stained with enough of Scar's blood, was this really necessary? Could Scar not take his bow and shoot through Grian's heart?

"Yeah. Let's end this," Scar whispered back. His voice was as steady as a rock, and, just like before, that eased something in Grian. With a nod, they allowed the ghosts and deities to count them down.

3…

2…

1…

Begin.

Grian charged at Scar and swiped with a fist, Scar let it hit him and laughed. Scar gave a lazy swipe at Grian's legs, an attack the other easily dodged, and took a push into the cactus. He wasn't fighting back, Grian realized as he shoved Scar into the thorns surrounding them.

With a growl, Grian pulled Scar off the cactus and threw him to the ground. Scar grinned up at him and had the decency to roll out of the way of Grian's next few punches. Grian kicks Scar's shins which sends the other falling back down with a crash, Grian pins his arms down before he gets a chance to get back up.

They're nose to nose by now, both breathing heavily and covered in sweat. Or, in Scar's case, blood. Scar smiles again, says it's okay, and gently guides Grian's hands to his throat. Grian sobs as he pressed down, and tries to block out the noises Scar makes as Grian chokes him. Then, Scar is gone, and Grian is left to cry into the sand, all alone.

His hands clenched into fists as his shoulders shook violently, the coarse sand digging into the small cuts he got from throwing Scar into the cacti, and his useless wings came up to wrap around him.

In a minute, he will bury Scar's things alongside his near Pizza's grave. In five minutes, he will curse out the Watchers for doing this to him and his family. In ten, he will be plummeting off the cliff and welcoming the darkness that swallows him.

[officerpuncake]

hi, i work on isolated incident too

i have nothing to animate btw so heres like. a behind the scenes think

.. i mean thing

from a few days ago

lil test animation with dave strider (i dont know if he is in this comic but i think not)

guest starring: Google Images Claymore (https://www.wholesaleblades.com/silver-william-wallace-braveheart-medieval-scottish-claymore-sword)

to be completely honest its not great. made dave's rig myself out of separated images and there just... weren't enough for all the actions.

so if i'm using any of these wrong, sorry.

i'm hoping as @crabbchips makes separated bits for the characters these will up significantly in quality.

if you wanna know more about our little webcomic thing see @meicottonsoul's blog. they direct the project and show regular updates when our ADHD asses can be bothered to do some work. they also host a google drive with every act so far, yet to be visualized, but still written in full.

[unofficialadamtaurus]

Sometime I'm pretty sure the Kerry, as a showrunner, despise the animation department. Jaune's role was completely unnecessary in V9, but he's here, his model is remade only to switch back anyway. Little did absolutely nothing this volume, but wow the rigging department still sees that mouse in their nightmare. The bees and ruby having a breakdown in ever after could have been on remnant, the cat is redundant of neo. That lore bit at the end might be the only Ever After necessity but like it's 2D so it could've been an exposition dump on remnant. Like, just think about the bonkers amount of asset development that will never be used again for this volume, and basically all of it is unnecessary. No wonder Kerry is begging Crunchyroll on twitter, they wasted so much money on Ever After in Vol 9 when they could have made Vacuo assets instead. He wasted the entire animation department and budget on this, arrowfell, and the dc crossover. Like bruh, how are you so bad at this. Dude. My guy. Who is hold a sword gun to your head and making you do this?

At least for some of this, we don't know who made the final decisions on how certain things were done. Coulda been Kerry, coulda been someone lower down (if someone has explicitly said whose decision it was, I retract my waffling).

As someone who's now spent a depressing amount of my life in a corporate office, lemme tell ya that unintentional managerial incompetence is all too common. Boss tells dev to do something, dev essentially isn't allowed to say "No, this can't or shouldn't be done," dev tries to make it work via an absurd amount of time and effort. Little's rigging nightmare could've started from something like that. You would hope that it wasn't just done for the ~impressiveness~ of wasting time.

I don't think anyone's metaphorically holding a sword gun to his head. There are two options: either he genuinely thinks he's making a good show or he thinks he's making a show that will be sufficiently profitable. In it for the art or the greed. And we've already brought up how it feels like the "heart" has gone out of this show.