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foxglovepng · 9 months ago

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Race Headcannons 🥀🌼

Requested: Nu uh I just felt like it

CW: Race, Rook Slander, Ortho spoiler Idia's part.

Characters: NRC students

These are my Race Headcannons for the NRC men. Some of these I just went by feeling a lot of these I did research about the movie setting although with the fishes + beast men I went by geography.

Some of these I'm unsure of (Heavy on Sebek) If anything is incorrect or you want to share your thoughts go ahead I'm always open to corrections and hearing others. (PROOFREAD FOR ONCE)

(Updated Epel on 5.12.24)

🌼

Heartslabyul

Riddle (British)

I don't really have an explanation for this one other than the Red Queen in Tim Burton's version she was British and had a big goofy forehead (I have not seen the animated one help)

Trey (German)

Would you believe me if I told you I whipped out a map closed my eyes and threw a dart and it landed on Germany??

For this one I went with somewhere in Europe and I picked Germany because it just made sense to me I was gonna say Polish, but his Green hair was telling me German.

Cater (Scottish)

It's his ginger hair tbh.

Ace (Japanese)

A lot of people headcannon him as Filipino, but me personally I wanted to be quirky and different /j

This one doesn't really have any evidence I just went by feeling. I also headcannon it that he would love Jojo and Junji Ito.

Deuce (Mexican)

As a fellow Mexican I KNOW ONE OF US WHEN I SEE ONE OF US. He is Mexican and I WILL DIE ON THAT HILL.

Savanaclaw

Leona (Kenya)

I actually googled it and Lion King takes place in Kenya which is a country in the eastern part of Africa. For obvious reasons since he is based off Scar it made sense to make him Kenyan.

Ruggie (Multiracial)

I may get a lot of heat for this one, but this man got blonde ass hair and blue eyes, HOWEVER for the geography of spotted Hyena's I feel he is light skinned. He's got some Kenya in him but he also got some white genes. Geography wise I believe he is also part Arab since there are Arab countries in Africa. So therefore I believe he is white, black, and Arab.

Jack (Bircial)

Another one I may get a lot of heat for.

From what I remember Jack is from the same country as Vil? So, I believe Jack is part black, but also part European. It also isn't explicitly stated what movie he is from we just know he is a wolf.

Pop off Jacob Black (not sorry)

Octavinelle

Azul (Cuban) + The Twins (Filipino)

I googled Coral Sea locations and I came to these conclusions.

There are different Coral reefs going from Australia, Indonesia, Papua New Guinea, Fiji, and Maldives. With the Twins I thought how funny would it be to make them Australian, but Filipino just kind of felt right like a gut feeling. The Carribean sea also has coral reefs so I made Azul Cuban. I was going to make him Venezuelan however I ended up going with Cuban, but I feel like both fit him in a way.

Scarabia

Jamil + Kalim (Arab)

I don't really think this one needs an explanation Aladdin quite literally takes place Agrabah which was based off of Baghdad, Iraq (source: Google)

HOWEVER

There is an article that says the Architecture is based on the Taj Mahal which is Indian.

There is also a mention of Allah in the animated version BUT because I don't fully understand religion in general (And also Disney back then was kind of racist) I don't want to use religion as a justification to where specifically they are from. So I will simply just say they are Arab.

Pomefiore

Vil (German)

Snow white was based in Germany. (I have nothing more to say :Skull:)

Rook (French)

Self explanatory

Epel (Sami)

The Sami People are people who are indigenous to Sapmi which is in Northern Europe. (Todays Russia, Sweden, Finland, and Norway).

From doing a bit of research the Sami people seem to be dying out and their language too. (If you want to feel free to Google the Sami people there's a lot to learn about them and it's really interesting. There was basically a bunch of policies put in place to kill them and mistreat them it's really sad)

So in short Epel is Sami Indigenous (If I'm correct he's the first Indigenous character we got so far which is nice representation) (I also hope my research was correct please correct me if not)

Ignihyde

Idia (Greek)

Based on where Hercules takes place and because Hades is quite literally Greek Mythology he is Greek.

Ortho is just a robot, but when he didn't drop dead he was Greek.

Diasmonia

Malleus (German/French)

I am not really getting a clear answer as to where Sleeping Beauty takes place so I made him a French German. He slayed tbh

Lilia (Romanian)

Dracula's castle is in Romania that is the only explanation you are getting

Silver (French/German)

I am being told he is based off Sleeping Beauty so I am making him the same race as Waka Sama.

Sebek (Biracial)

When I first was thinking of a race for him I was thinking Slavic kind of fits him (atleast to me) or possibly Asian. However I had a really hard time guessing so I made him SlavicAsian. Maybe possibly Slovakia and Vietnam?

If you enjoyed Likes and Reblogs are very much welcome. If you want to request something go ahead just read my rules first. <3

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bansheeoftheforest · 1 month ago

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Lingering Firelight [ACV M!Evior x Hytham]

Last fic of the year and it ended up being for AC Valhalla! I always thought my first AC fic would be for Origins but Eivor and Hytham captured my heart. Hytham is my babygirl and I am still pissed Eivor can't romance him. As usual, if yall would like to see more of this, please leave a like, a comment, and/or reblog 🫶

Also, no promises but I would be very interested if anyone has some requests for this pairing! They are infesting my brain and there are simply not enough fics but my brain is smoll-

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Wordcount: 4,446

Summary:

“I have to ask, Wolf-Kissed,” Hytham then spoke. “Do you treat all members of the Raven Clan so personally?”

Eivor hummed slightly.

“No, not everyone. Not like this.”

Or, a mini oneshot of Eivor cleaning Hytham after a battle.

CW: Canon typical violence and battle.

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The bureau was quiet, as always.

It was his own little sanctuary amidst the strange lands and stranger people, where he could hide away and feel productive, like he was of use, if not to the clan, then to the creed. Where he could be aloof, hide in plain sight, relish in the familiar comforts of shadows and being out of sight, and especially so now, when he was alone.

He hadn’t seen his mentor in weeks. He had not heard from him, Basim had always been distant, but he could not help but wonder if his silence was more than that, if this was his punishment for his failure in Norway. The thought had stung, in the beginning, almost worse than the pain of the broken ribs and the internal bleeding, to know that he was a failure and to have seen the disappointment in his master’s eyes, but time alone had healed the open wound, perhaps leaving a gnarly scar. Regardless, he had found his quiet solitude, found his peace along the English riversides and the settlement of Ravensthorpe.

It was late, the sun had long since set, and the rain obscured any sight that was not the glowing firelights from the longhouse. A feast, as was customary, although Hytham, as usual, had decided against joining. He had been accepted well enough into the clan, but he was still a stranger unwilling to thoroughly accept his place within the settlement and its people, as he already had his own, and so, the assassin kept content at an arm’s length, and the Raven Clan seemed to agree.

He stretched, hearing his joints popping as he did so. He spent his waken moments going over various codex pages, accounts, and information about the Order, and preened with his collection of medallions so generously gifted by the Wolf-Kissed, which meant that he was often still and rigid, unfortunately necessary for his long-term recovery, even though he longed for movement and action. Nowadays, it seemed like his only motions were rising from the bed, standing, moving throughout the bureau, and the equally dreaded and anticipated walk to the longhouse for food.

... He was quite hungry.

With a gentle sigh, he placed the accounts he was holding onto his desk, stretched once more, and shrugged on his hood. He missed the dry heat of Baghdad, and while he would rather take the warm summer rain over the cold snow of Norway, he still did not particularly enjoy the heavy moisture and being out in the rain in general. And so, as quiet as ever, he slunk out of his little hideaway and strode with uneven steps towards the feast. In and out, to merely grab a bit of food, and then be back in the safety of the Ravensthorpe Bureau.

As he reached the open doors, prepared to take off his hood and step inside, the bellowing sounds of a war-horn echoed throughout the settlement. Invaders. He could hear the Wolf-Kissed’s voice within the hall.

‘Everyone that can fight- prepare for battle! Anyone who can’t, stay in the longhouse!’

Hytham scanned the settlement, the rain moved heavily, but the sight of a foreign ship and screaming warriors that had docked and ran up their coast was as clear as day. Soon, half-drunken Vikings of the Raven Clan sprung from the hall, and he followed closely.

He was not sure if he was battle ready, but he would be damned if he let the clan fight alone.

Unsheathing the sword that rested by his hip, he leaped from the hillside and towards the shore, where the battle had already begun, the clashing of metal and war-cries sounding heavier than the rain. Momentarily, he cursed himself for his lack of ranged weapons, but close-combat was his specialty, he would have to make do. He slipped easily into the battlefield by Reda’s -thankfully abandoned- tent, laid his eyes on a chosen enemy, and struck. His ribs screamed with pain, but not as much as the man whose head he had just cleaved.

Onto the next, someone close by who had their attention captured by someone else, an easy victim to the blade he hid by his wrist. They were closing in, they had to be kept away from the longhouse, that much he understood, yet the mud and the constantly disturbed ground made it harder and harder to traverse, like quicksand and the slippery skin of eels.

As he attempted to move, strong arms clasped around his neck, tightening into a chokehold. A man twice his size easily lifted him off of the ground in an attempt to break his neck. He had no choice but to drop his sword. He clawed, hands gripping with just enough force to keep the man from breaking his spine straight away, attempting to get an angle for his hidden blade, but when that proved fruitless and the man persisted, he bit down onto his bared forearm, sinking his teeth straight into the musculature, causing the attacker to howl in pain and the grip to loosen further, yet not completely.

‘In the grove’, he heard his mentor’s voice in his head, feeling the blood and sweat against his teeth, ‘you were elegant, the picture of grace. Now you fight like a vicious dog.’

He broke the skin barrier within milliseconds and managed to rip off a piece of flesh, when he heard a familiar squelching sound and his attacker’s screams dying in his ears, the edge of the spear which pierced him coming dangerously close to also spearing the assassin, its edge resting against his back. As the raider fell dead and Hytham got to his feet, Birna smiled apologetically at him as he spit out the blood and flesh. He was grateful for the rescue, but he was also grateful to not have been turned into a human meat skewer.

Newly freed, with his weapon back in hand and blood on his tongue, the assassin could once more join the foray; he swung wildly, focused in on anyone not adorned in the signature blue of the Raven Clan, used his wrist-blade any moment he got, stabbed and slashed and hacked, yet the number of invaders never seemed to dwindle, and the old injuries were ripped open, strained and breaking and bleeding and swelling, his energy began to deplete. A short pause, a moment to breathe, another mistake. The warriors had fallen and slid in the mud, weapons laid strewn about, better to momentarily abandon and move quickly than to attempt to grab and risk the enemy getting their moment to strike, precisely what became Hytham’s salvation, as another weaponless brute charged in on him, knocking him off of his feet, making him land with a ‘thud’ and a groan before dirty hands came back to his neck. An easy opportunity, his hands were free, he lifted his wrist to prepare to strike, and-

With the howling war-cry of an angered wolf, Eivor threw himself onto the man on top of the assassin, sending them tumbling to Hytham’s side, Eivor on top. He still held his axe, and with the sheer force of brutality the Hidden One had yet to see even in Vikings, he smashed the sharp edge onto the enemy's face, over and over, crushing and crushing and not stopping until the skull was thoroughly bashed in, and the face of what had once been a man was left an unrecognizable heap of gore on top of a lifeless body.

Perhaps another unwise choice for Hytham to merely lay there and stare, but as Eivor got off of the corpse, kicking it slightly for good measures, and strode over to him, the victory cries of the Raven Clan rang clear. Equally breathless, Eivor dropped his axe to the side and reached his hand out for the other to take, a help Hytham graciously accepted. The Viking pulled him with such force that the assassin landed not-so graciously against his chest, an intimacy that Eivor himself didn’t seem to even consider.

“Are you alright?”

Hytham moved away from the Viking, tried to stand on his own two feet and straighten himself. ‘Perfectly so’ was his attempted response, but the pain in his strained voice shone through as the rain and the noise of the battle had subsided. Eivor gave him a look, one that he couldn’t read, placed a hand on his shoulder -perhaps to keep him from running off- and turned towards the rest of the clan.

“Birna, headcount. Everyone injured, get to Valka, the corpses will be dealt with afterward.”

The commands were followed immediately, and soon the Raven clan and its warriors began to scatter once more, yet Eivor kept him firmly in place. Before he knew it, the Wolf-Kissed had turned him and began to lead him towards his Bureau.

It was in the warm light of the still-lit braziers that Hytham recognized the damage of the battle on them. Eivor didn’t seem injured, only tired from the fight, yet his armor was covered in blood and mud and the cloth was drenched from the rain. The assassin, looking down upon himself, looked considerably worse. The blood was even clearer on his light-colored clothing, not to mention the mud from the multiple falls to the ground. He could still feel the blood and flesh in his teeth, and his face felt sticky with what could only be a mixture of sweat, dirt, and gore. A vicious dog, indeed. Perhaps not as vicious as he once was.

Eivor, still not having uttered even a word to Hytham, wasted no time in stripping from his dirty armor, leaving the tunic which had been spared, and his not-so-spared breeches, piling his battle-clothing by the door of the Bureau. Then, with a simple ‘wait here’, he gathered his things and left in the direction of the longhouse.

‘Wait here,’ he thought, ‘where else would I go?’

With Eivor momentarily gone, the young eagle decided to follow his example. His shoulder ached and protested as he moved his arms in an attempt to untie himself from his outer robe, one which was stained and wet. His normally steady hands shook from the cold and the leftover adrenaline, but he merely kicked off his leather boots, felt his feet on the steady wooden floor, and closed the second door which looked out over the docks.

He did wear layers. It was necessary with how unused he was to the Norwegian and English weather, and now he was grateful, as he was not in mere undergarments once Eivor came back.

In one hand, he held two buckets full of -presumably clean- water, and in the other, he held a crate that rested against his shoulder. It seemed that he had also taken the time to wash off before returning, where or how was unclear, as he was considerably less dirty when he stepped back into the bureau, and his change of clothes seemed dry enough. He placed the buckets on the floor first, then the crate, closed the last door behind him, and then he looked back at the assassin. He strode towards his desk, carefully gathered the scattered papers and placed them to the side, leaving a clear space, and then looked back at Hytham.

“Sit.”

Not a question. Eivor was, in all technicality, not his superior, neither by creed nor clan, but the commanding voice was enough for Hytham’s body to move by itself. He scooted up onto the desk and sat obediently, unsure why Eivor had decided for the desk and not the chair by it, although sitting down at all was a welcome rest from only gods knows how long he spent on his feet today. Eivor had yet to properly look at him.

“I’d suggest you take off your tunic.” The Wolf-Kissed spoke. He knelt by the crate and the buckets and took dry, clean rags from the straw, and dipped it in the water. Hytham’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What are you doing?”

“Well,” Eivor continued, standing up. “I was planning on cleaning you up.”

Hytham merely stared at him. Eivor stood still and let him process, not being able to help but finding it quite endearing how tightly the other’s brows knit together.

“I am fully capable of cleaning myself, friend.” He said.

“I know.” Eivor agreed, “But you took quite a tumble, so it would calm me better if I got to look over you myself.”

He wasn’t sure if he should protest, but the Viking’s blue eyes tore into him, not demanding, but almost pleading. And he couldn’t deny that he was exhausted and in pain, and while Master Basim had warned him about relying too much on help...

Before he could properly begin to pull on his tunic, Eivor came closer. Placing the rag to the side, his damp hands came to Hytham’s left arm, where the hidden blade remained. He did not ask, not with words, but instead looked at Hytham, who was at eye level, thanks to the height of the desk. The assassin considered it for a moment, then nodded.

Eivor began to gently unbuckle the straps that held the wrist-blade secure against his forearm; it might have felt less intimate if Eivor had simply undressed him completely, the removal of the wrist-blade made him feel awfully bare and exposed. Yet Eivor handled his arm and the blade with such care, gently placing it to the side so that Hytham still had it within reach, perhaps knowing it would calm him.

“I have to ask, Wolf-Kissed,” Hytham then spoke. “Do you treat all members of the Raven Clan so personally?”

Eivor hummed slightly.

“No, not everyone. Not like this.”

Hytham raised an eyebrow, an expression that was unanswered. With his arms free, Eivor began to pull at the edges of his tunic, until Hytham merely accepted the childish treatment and raised his arms over his head, letting the other pull it off him completely. Thankfully, the Viking tossed it over to his bed, instead of letting it lay on the dirty floor, but as he turned back, he stopped and stared at the other’s chest.

“...You’re still injured.”

A statement, or perhaps trying to process the realization out loud. The bandages he still kept around his chest were mangled, but surprisingly unstained for the battle that had just happened. Hytham had to keep himself from cowering under the other’s watchful gaze.

“It is nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“You almost had your neck broken, twice.”

He huffed, and almost, almost, couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Did Birna have the time to tell you about that?”

“No need, I watched you across the battlefield for most of it, but she was quicker the first time.”

Huh. ‘Watched’, not ‘saw’.

“Needed to make sure I did a good job, eh?”

Eivor merely smiled.

“I never have to make sure of that, friend. You always do.”

Leaving the Hidden One blushing from the compliment, the Wolf-Kissed came closer, standing between the assassin’s legs as he sat on the desk, thankfully not having to tilt his head back too much to be able to be eye-to-eye with the other now, the taller one. The blonde one said nothing more, merely grabbing his chin with his thumb and index finger, keeping him in place. His hands were warm. Hytham looked up at him a moment more, then, as the rag was gently placed against his cheek, he closed his eyes.

The rag was, surprisingly, warm. How or why Eivor had decided to take a moment to get warm water, while also having time to change his own clothes and clean off, was beyond him. Perhaps it had taken longer to get out of his robes than he thought. Eivor was gentle, carefully moving the rag and scrubbing off the dirt and blood from his face, yet, as he came against a nick on his cheek, the Hidden One hissed, and Eivor stopped once more, eyebrows furrowing, quickly becoming distracted from his attempt at an apology.

“...Is that blood in your teeth?”

Hytham opened his eyes and looked at Eivor once more. His head was tilted slightly to the side, and this time, it truly felt like the other’s eyes tore into him. His first instinct was to lie and say ‘no’, like a child that had been accused of stealing apples, or having been caught doing exactly what his superior told him not to do. It had been quite a few years since he last found himself in such a situation, yet it seemed like old habits died hard.

“...It’s not mine?”

A very clever response, a second instinct that almost made him wince with embarrassment. Yet, as he glanced at Eivor, the bastard merely grinned.

“I didn’t know you could fight so dirty.” He said, tilting the other’s head back so that he could clean the front of his face. “You fought like a true drengr. I like it.”

Now, eye-to-eye, Hytham could feel his cheeks burning. He hoped his skin was dark enough to not show it, but Eivor merely continued with that silent smile as he proceeded with the washing.

Once Hytham’s face was deemed clean enough for Eivor’s standards, the Viking momentarily left his side to wash the rag in the second bucket and wet it with clean water from the first, more hygienic than the other would have assumed that Viking medical care could be, or perhaps it was just Eivor. Soon, he was back in his place between Hytham’s legs, thumb and index back to his chin, tilting his head up to get access to his neck, where the dried handprints of the brute that attempted to strangle him covered bruising. His neck had always been sensitive, tingling with every slight sensation that was not his own, and while that sensation had been replaced with sheer pain before, he had to bite his tongue to strangle the noises threatening to escape once the warm rag came towards his throat. Eivor stopped, just as quickly as he had started.

“You alright?”

Hytham breathed out uneasily, swallowed dryly, and nodded.

“Yes, yes, just... Be careful.”

Not like Eivor hadn’t been careful before, but he took the warning and nodded. To think a man who just half an hour or so earlier had bashed a man’s skull in front of him, could handle him with such care. Wiping the rough mud away, revealing the dark purple bruises over his pulse and tendon. His warm fingers ghosted over the handprint.

Deep down, Eivor felt guilty. He felt guilty that it had gotten so far, that Hytham had such close calls twice, that he had not been by his side to protect him, help him, until the very end. But at the same time, he felt guilty that he thought that Hytham wasn’t capable. He was injured, yes, potentially for life, but he was still a skilled fighter, a highly trained assassin, the blood on the younger’s hands might rival that of his own, and it was not his right to think of him as incapable, not when it stung to hear Hytham so nonchalantly calling himself unnecessary and unuseful. He always said it as if it was a joke, with a smile on his lips. Eivor had no right to make him think that that was true.

“...Eivor?”

Hytham’s voice, warmer than firelight, broke him out of his thoughts. The drengr swallowed.

His hand had closed in on the other’s throat, and he had let him. It was not a tight grip, not even a grip, but it was placed loosely in the shadow of the other’s handprint, now that it was clean, and his thumb brushed over the side of his neck. Quite the position, with his other hand still holding the other’s chin.

“Even the most skilled warriors get injured, Hytham.” He said instead, offering no further explanation. “I hope you know that.”

The younger one merely continued to look up at him. He looked utterly lost, as if trying to read the Viking’s intentions on his face when he could not grasp them in his words.

“I..- Yes, of course.”

Eivor seemed satisfied enough. He returned to the buckets and cleaned the rag, letting the fresh water seep through it before squeezing most of the liquid out of it. Then, he returned to Hytham. This time, he turned his attention to his arms. His right, which besides a few rough meetings with the gravel of the ground, seemed perfectly fine, and his left, where the straps of the hidden blade had left marks and where his ring finger had long since been amputated. While Eivor scrubbed his palms, he could not help but wonder if Hytham had amputated his finger himself.

There were only a few scuffs on either of his palms, and so, cleaning his rag between every limb, it was time for the other’s chest. It was not dirtied, but the Wolf-Kissed saw the blue, purple, now yellowed and green bruising beneath the bandages that had begun to fray and yellow. How long has it been since he last changed them? Neither knew, probably not since Basim left. Hytham knew full well what that look in Eivor’s eyes meant, the expression on his face, yet he merely turned his gaze away and silently played dumb.

“Hytham.”

Not his commanding voice, the assassin noted, yet it almost had the same effect. He was normally so calm and well-kept, sturdy and unmoving and stoic, but now, be it the privacy of his bureau or the intimacy between them, he felt way too expressive and way too helpless. He had little choice but to look at the man currently patching him up, yet he hesitated.

“Please, friend. Leave it.”

Eivor wanted to disagree. In his shoes, Hytham might have too. But he was exposed enough, cleaned enough, he had no wounds other than those he had acquired prior and the bruises on his neck and limbs, if he was allowed to set a boundary, he would draw the line here.

“Only if you promise to see Valka tomorrow.”

It was, and somehow wasn’t, a negotiation. The Wolf-Kissed always seemed to want the final word.

“Very well,” Hytham said, “if that will please you.”

‘It won’t please me as much as doing it myself’, Eivor thought. ‘But if this is what you want, so be it.’

He lingered, for just a moment. A large, battle-hardened, warm hand lingered on the Hidden One’s body, having moved from his hands to rest on his shoulder. In the warm firelight, their eyes glistened, warm and comforting and alluring. Hytham felt his heart speed up, if only for a moment.

“...You should return to the others.” Hytham whispered, as if afraid to break the sanctity of the moment. In the end, he was. Whatever it was, he liked Eivor, he liked his company, his attention, and deep down he preened over getting such attention from him, alone and personal and private, yet he began to fear what he might do if Eivor stayed, if his touch lingered closer. It was not something he had ever considered, not something he even grasped or knew the implication of, but the warm feeling in his stomach felt unnerving, taunting. “They might miss you.”

“They can handle themselves without me,” he said, equally quiet, “unless you want me to leave?”

“...I never said that.”

Eivor smiled. Smiled. Hytham felt his cheeks turn warm, the unnerving warmth from his stomach that spread throughout his entire body, onto every limb. With the rag placed to the side, the Wolf-Kissed rested his hands against the wood of the desk, leaning closer.

Hytham was almost as tall as Eivor when he sat on the desk. And while his first instinct was to back away, lean away from the strange sensation, he stood steady fast. Their noses almost brushed together, or perhaps they were entire inches apart, and it just felt closer.

“Will you be alright for the night, Hytham?”

He was so close. He felt his warm breath against his skin, and hearing his own name spill from the Viking’s lips sent a shiver throughout his thawing body. He could do little else but nod.

“I think so.” He attempted to smile, gentle and soft, “It takes more than a few brutes to take me out.”

“Good,” the Wolf-Kissed said, grinning, “because this brute wants you to remain in one piece.”

Before Hytham knew it, the drengr’s hands had moved from the table, now coming up to cradle his face. Warm. Warm. And if such an act of affection had not been enough, Eivor tilted his head down, and placed a lingering kiss onto his forehead. Then, he moved, parting from the other. His skin tingled still with the sensation, the warmth, yet he relished the little touch he got as Eivor -perhaps a bit unnecessarily- helped him off the desk. Yet, as if none of this had ever happened, Eivor merely moved away, grabbing the rag and the bucket of dirtied water.

“The crate has some medical supplies, if you’d need it. I’ll leave the clean water here as well.”

He did not want to leave Hytham without the chance to help himself, even if he assumed he had his own stash of medical things stuffed away somewhere. Yet Hytham merely nodded. With that confirmation, the Viking moved towards the door.

“Good night, Hytham.”

“Good night, Eivor.”

And so, the Viking shot him one last smile, before he opened the door, and disappeared out into the night. Soon, all Hytham heard was the brief splash of the bucket being emptied, and the footsteps slowly moving further and further away.

Now, he was left alone by the lingering firelight. Suddenly, the bureau felt so much colder, and yet the feeling of Eivor’s lips upon his forehead, his hands on his cheeks, felt like a lingering burn, warming him deep into his very soul. He felt speechless, mute, still in shock, in his head swirled a million questions, none of which he seemed to be able to answer. But he packed up for the night, organized his papers, made sure everything was as it should, before he, with much relief, pulled on his tunic, extinguished the braziers, and allowed himself into the soft comfort of his bed. And so, as he was lulled into the gentle comforts of a peaceful sleep, he could not help but to curl up, let the lingering thoughts of Eivor settle in his mind, and imagine the lingering warmth of the firelights to be the Wolf-Kissed’s own.

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Please consider supporting this fic on AO3 too!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61704802

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#AC valhalla #Assassin's creed valhalla #Eivor wolfkissed #Hytham #Eivor x Hytham #Ac hytham #AC eivor #assassin's creed #Assassin's creed fanfic #dear god i have no idea how to tag this #Male Eivor #banshees writing #banshees fanfic

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omegaremix · 1 month ago

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Omega Radio for December 25, 2024; #393.

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds: "Fifteen Feet Of Pure White Snow"

Eels: "Christmas, Why You Gotta' Do Me Like This?"

Ben Folds: "The Christmas Song"

Low: "Just Like Christmas"

Sharon Van Etten: "Silent Night"

Future Islands: "Last Christmas"

Haim: "Hallelujah"

Kurt Vile: "Must Be Santa"

Cat Power: "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas"

Sufjan Stevens: "O Come O Come Emmanuel"

Wolf Alice: "Santa Baby"

Yoko Ono & Flaming Lips: "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)"

Fall, The: "Hark The Herald Angel Sing"

Queen: "Thank God It's Christmas"

Greedies: "A Merry Jingle"

They Might Be Giants: "Santa's Beard"

Pearl Jam: "Don't Believe In Christmas"

Smashing Pumpkins: "Christmas Time"

Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers: "Christmas All Over Again"

Black Lips: "Christmas In Baghdad"

Shonen Knife: "We Wish You A Merry Christmas"

Mary J. Blige: "Have Yourself A Merry Christmas"

Headhunters, The: "Kwanzaa"

Bjork: "Frosti"

Girl In Red: "Two Queens In A King-Sized Bed"

Mazzy Star: "Flowers In December"

Kate Bush: "Snowflake"

Tori Amos: "Reindeer King" / "Winter"

Bonus Holiday special (4th); our most 'gold' and 'platinum' broadcast.

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chiefdirector · 1 year ago

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Left Behind | G Callen | NCIS: Los Angeles

No.19: Left behind

Callen didn’t like to think he had a soulmate.

The idea that he was bonded to someone for life unnerved him. The fact that someone could hold such an influence on his life, and vice versa, never did sit right. He was a lone wolf by nature, even when he worked within a team dynamic.

The mark above his heart taunted him for years, challenging his very nature. Eventually, he tried to convince himself that he didn’t have a soulmate, but then he met her.

Special Agent (Y/N) (L/N). Expert in Black Ops and matters of extreme prejudice. She had been working on some assignment out of Baghdad before she had been assigned to the office in Los Angeles. It had taken a few days before her and Callen had crossed paths, but the burning above his heart revealed all he needed to know about her.

For the first time, Callen fell in love, and he fell hard. Seemingly everything had clicked in his life. The days were brighter and the evenings brought comfort. His restless nights all but ceased. She had brought him the clarity he had longed after.

It all fell apart again the day she died.

It was his fault, or at least that is what he had told himself. He was meant to be on her six. He was until he heard a noise in the corner of the room. That split second distraction allowed time for their suspect to launch four bullets into her. Three were caught in her bullet proof vest. The last of the four landed in the back of her neck. She died almost instantly.

Nobody on his team had said anything when he returned to the office alone but he could feel their eyes on him. Hetty had demanded he take some time off, to heal and grieve. He knew that the team would apprehend her murderer, he knew that he had to step back.

The house was quiet when he returned home. Callen was had been used to having a quiet home. He had had one for most of his life. But now he would have to familiarise himself with it once again; he would have to get used to being the one who survived, the one left behind.

Masterlist | Whumptober Masterlist

@ailesswhumptober @happygirl-0408

#g callen x reader #g callen #callen x reader #Callen imagine #ncis x reader #ncis imagine #ncis la #ncis los angeles #ailesswhumptober2023 #chiefdirector

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sweet-caress-of-twilight · 1 year ago

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Going off of one of my previous reblogs, i attempted to make a list of where in the world every Disney Animated Canon movie takes place

Antarctica:

Pablo the Cold-Blooded Penguin (The Three Caballeros) (Pablo starts out living in the South Pole and then he goes to Chile, Peru, and Ecuador)

Africa

The Lion King

Tarzan

Asia

Aladdin is set in a mishmash of Middle Eastern countries. It was supposed to be in Iraq, but because of the Persian Gulf War, Disney said no, so it takes place in the fictional country of Agrabah, which is inspired by Baghdad in Iraq.

Raya and the Last Dragon is set in a mishmash of Southeast Asian countries, but takes the most inspiration from Vietnam

China: Mulan

India: The Jungle Book

Europe

England: The Wind in the Willows (The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad), Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan, 101 Dalmatians, The Sword in the Stone, Robin Hood, Winnie the Pooh, The Great Mouse Detective

France: Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, The Aristocats, Beauty and the Beast, The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Germany: Snow White, Tangled

Greece: The Pastoral Symphony (Fantasia), Hercules

Italy: Pinocchio

Norway: Frozen (Arendelle is heavily inspired by Norway)

Russia: Peter and the Wolf (Make Mine Music)

Spain: Wish (Rosas is inspired by Spain and located off the Iberian Peninsula)

Turkey: Pomp and Circumstance (Fantasia 2000) is about Noah's Ark, and many people believe that the ark landed at Mount Ararat in present-day Turkey

Ukraine: Night on Bald Mountain/Ave Maria (Fantasia) (the real Bald Mountain is Mount Triglaf, near Kyiv in Ukraine)

Wales: The Black Cauldron

North America

Mexico:

Las Posadas

Mexico: Pátzcuaro, Veracruz and Acapulco

You Belong to My Heart/Donald's Surreal Reverie (all from The Three Caballeros)

United States:

Different towns in Massachusetts and California have claimed to be the Mudville that Casey at the Bat (Make Mine Music) takes place in, but the author of the original poem said it has no basis in fact.

The Legend of Johnny Appleseed (Melody Time) - the real Johnny Appleseed (real name John Chapman) planted apple trees in Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Ontario, and West Virginia

Lady and the Tramp could take place somewhere in New England

The Fox and the Hound looks like it takes place in Appalachia, so maybe Pennsylvania or Virginia

Home on the Range is somewhere in the Old West

Bolt takes place across America: starts out in California, the title character ends up in New York, visits Ohio, and is back to California by the end

Alaska: Brother Bear

California: Wreck it Ralph (Ralph Breaks the Internet reveals that Litwak's Arcade is in California), Big Hero 6

Florida: Dumbo

Hawaii: Lilo and Stitch

Louisiana: Blue Bayou (Make Mine Music), most of The Rescuers, The Princess and the Frog

Maine: Bambi (the forest was based on Maine and the animators traveled to Maine for reference)

New York: Johnny Fedora and Alice Blue Bonnet, The Whale Who Wanted to Sing at the Met (Make Mine Music) (the Metropolitan Opera is in NYC), Little Toot (Melody Time), The Legend of Sleepy Hollow (The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad) (the real Sleepy Hollow is in New York), The Rescuers (the Rescue Aid Society headquarters is in NYC), Oliver and Company, Rhapsody in Blue (Fantasia 2000)

Texas: Pecos Bill (Melody Time)

Virginia: Pocahontas

Washington, DC: Atlantis: The Lost Empire (Milo works at the Smithsonian

Oceania

The Rescuers Down Under: Australia

Moana: Polynesia

Pangaea

The Rite of Spring (Fantasia)

Dinosaur

South America

Argentina: Pedro, El Gaucho Goofy (Saludos Amigos)

Bolivia: Lake Titicaca (Saludos Amigos)

Brazil: Aquarela do Brasil (Saludos Amigos), Baia (The Three Caballeros), Blame It on the Samba (Melody Time),

Chile: Pedro (Saludos Amigos) (The title character delivers the mail in the Andes, between Santiago, Chile, and Mendoza, Argentina), Pablo the Cold-Blooded Penguin (The Three Caballeros)

Colombia: Encanto

Ecuador: Pablo the Cold-Blooded Penguin (The Three Caballeros) (Pablo goes to the Galapagos Islands, which is an archipelago in Ecuador)

Peru: Lake Titicaca (Saludos Amigos) (the lake is at the border between Peru and Bolivia), Pablo the Cold-Blooded Penguin (The Three Caballeros), The Emperor's New Groove

Uruguay: The Flying Gauchito (The Three Caballeros)

Unknown/does not take place in our world

Any of the package film segments not mentioned here

The Little Mermaid seems like it takes place in the Mediterranean Sea, but it could also take place in the Caribbean, which would explain Sebastian's accent

Fantasia 2000: "Pines of Rome" is set in the Arctic, so it could be anywhere from Canada to Alaska to Finland to Russia

Most of Atlantis: the Lost Empire, since the city of Atlantis is completely made up

Treasure Planet

Chicken Little

Meet the Robinsons

Zootopia

Strange World

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omegaradiowusb · 1 month ago

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DECEMBER 25, 2024 (#393)

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds: "Fifteen Feet Of Pure White Snow" Eels: "Christmas, Why You Gotta' Do Me Like This?" Ben Folds: "The Christmas Song" Low: "Just Like Christmas" Sharon Van Etten: "Silent Night" Future Islands: "Last Christmas" Haim: "Hallelujah" Kurt Vile: "Must Be Santa" Cat Power: "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" Sufjan Stevens: "O Come O Come Emmanuel" Wolf Alice: "Santa Baby" Yoko Ono & Flaming Lips: "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)"

Fall, The: "Hark The Herald Angel Sing" Queen: "Thank God It's Christmas" Greedies: "A Merry Jingle" They Might Be Giants: "Santa's Beard" Pearl Jam: "Don't Believe In Christmas" Smashing Pumpkins: "Christmas Time" Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers: "Christmas All Over Again" Black Lips: "Christmas In Baghdad" Shonen Knife: "We Wish You A Merry Christmas"

Mary J. Blige: "Have Yourself A Merry Christmas" Headhunters, The: "Kwanzaa"

Bjork: "Frosti" Girl In Red: "Two Queens In A King-Sized Bed" Mazzy Star: "Flowers In December" Kate Bush: "Snowflake" Tori Amos: "Reindeer King" / "Winter"

Seasons greetings to all. Omega fills in for Movie Music And News this morning for a two-hour bonus holiday broadcast of festive sounds from indie, punk, alternative, R&B, jazz, and female vocalists. Many artists make their very first appearance here in Omega's history, and this show is as 'gold' and 'platinum' it gets.

Our first broadcast of the new year is January 6, 2025 at 3AM when we present our first of two annual Winter darkness showcases, followed by our quarterly marquee set on February 3, 2025. We plan on continuing our one-hour deluxe shows and also look to ramp up the number of bonus sets.

We thank all of our followers, supporters, and listeners of ours and WUSB a festive holiday season and a positive new year.

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nyaa · 2 years ago

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got time slipped back to medieval europe w/ the boys. they out here tryna craft baghdad batteries. I just be making bank doing the coin thing from spice & wolf season 1

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teecupangel · 2 years ago

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It was just announced that AC Mirage is releasing in October. Are you excited? (I managed to get the collectors edition!)

Congrats! I pre-ordered the Collector's Edition as well <3

Sidebar: the normal version is currently 49.99 USD in PSN which gives us an idea of how long (and how big) this game would be. It's not surprising as Mirage did start off as a DLC of Valhalla so this will definitely not be as long as the recent AC games. I hope that means this would have a tighter more focused storyline and doesn't mean the narrative suffers because it's shorter. Also, as it's available for previous generations, it would probably have the same graphic options as Valhalla.

Alright, this can be a bit of a rant because, well, it's me XD

I read it's using Origin's parkour system but they've improved on it which sounds nice 'cause it's like the love-child of old and current AC games' parkour system.

The scene where Basim used that lamp-looking thing to quickly turn? Reminded me a lot of the old AC games, that's for sure. And that throwing knife kill? Definitely gave me AC1 flashbacks XD

Special assassinations are back and, not gonna lie, absolutely excited for that. That was my favorite part of the stealth mechanics of Unity, Syndicate and Valhalla's Siege of Paris DLC. I'm hoping it's quite diverse like those games and that scene where Basim uses a rope to hang his target feels like one of the special assassinations.

Also, also, also...

Chain Assassinations look so cool and if this is an unlockable skill, I know where my early skill points are going XD

As for open combat, I'm a sucker for dual wielders especially if it's the more traditional long blade/short blade combo and I love fighting styles that have a lot of twirling around so this entire sequence?

Yeeeessss, thank you. Twirl for me, dorky wolf dad. Twirl. I demand more twirling.

Btw, his Mirage fighting style is a bit different from his AC Valhalla style and I wonder if we'll know why he changed his fighting style in Mirage? (I'm betting it's connected to his Loki memories)

Baghdad looks awesome btw and, not gonna lie, I am having AC1, Revelations and Origins flashbacks.

Also, we saw another character in this trailer that is actually mentioned in AC Valhalla.

(So we know he's not gonna die which is nice XD)

Overall: I am cautiously optimistic and I hope Ubisoft doesn't fuck this up. I really hope Mirage is a success so the higher-ups in Ubisoft see that stealth-heavy AC games are worth developing.

Also, I read the Prince of Persia remake is being handled by Ubisoft Montreal (who is also handling Hexe) who handled Mirage so this might be a good indication of the kind of game the Prince of Persia remake could be.

Also, because it's me.

Hello, Hidden Blade Kink, my old-ish friend.

#real talk though #i'm gonna get my copy around december or january though #because shipping XD #but feel free to spoil me i'm cool with that #ngl #the best part of ac mirage releasing in october is #i have 4 months to procrastinate the fic idea I have #that only works before ac mirage releases XD #this isn't an analysis #right #i don't know anymore #teecup rants #assassin's creed #assassin's creed mirage #basim ibn ishaq

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automatuck9 · 26 days ago

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Books Read in 2024

The Name of the Rose- Umberto Eco^

The Paying Guests- Sarah Waters^

Secrets Typed in Blood-Stephen Spotswood

Seabiscuit: An American Legend- Laura Hillembrand#

Our Wives Under the Sea-Julia Armfield^

Red Land, Black Land: Daily Life in Ancient Egypt- Barbara Mertz

The Goldfinch-Donna Tartt^

The Burning Court-John Dickson Carr

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo- Taylor Jenkins Reid

The Indifferent Stars Above: The Harrowing Saga of the Donner Party- Daniel James Brown

The Honjin Murders- Sishi Yokomizo

The Ballad of Abu Ghraib- Philip Gourevitch^

A Libertarian Walks Into a Bear- Matthew Hongoltz-Hetling

Wuthering Heights-Emily Bronte#

This Is Your Mind on Plants- Michael Pollen

The Hunter-Tana French^

The Sparrow- Mary Doria Russell

The Ghost in the Tokaido Inn-Dorothy Hoobler#

The Ballad of the Belstone Fox- David Rook

Killers of the Flower Moon- David Grann

Broken Harbor-Tana French#

Frankenstein in Baghdad- Ahmed Saadawi

The Writing Retreat- Julia Bartz

Pagans: The End of Traditional Religion and the Rise of Christianity-James O'Donnell

The Trespasser-Tana French#

Shutter Island-Dennis Lehane

The Wolf Age: The Vikings, the Anglo-Saxons and the Battle for the North Sea Empire-Tore Skeie

A Pocketful of Rye- Agatha Christie

A Canticle for Leibowitz- Walter Miller Jr.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay-Michael Chabon^

Watership Down-Richard Adams#

The First Ghosts-Irving Finkel

Ordeal by Innocence-Agatha Christie^

Annihilation- Jeff VanderMeer

Fingersmith-Sarah Waters^

Coyote America: A Natural and Supernatural History-Dan Flores

Devil in a Blue Dress- Walter Mosley

The Inugami Curse-Seishi Yokomizo

Doc-Mary Doria Russell

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil- John Berendt

Morality Play-Barry Unsworth

Brideshead Revisited-Evelyn Waugh

The Long Walk-Stephen King (Richard Bachman)#

Whose Body?-Dorothy Sayers

A Black Fox Running-Brian Carter

The Village of Eight Graves-Seishi Yokomizo

A Fine and Private Place- Peter S. Beagle

The Gulf: The Making of an American Sea- Jack Emerson Davis^

The Devil's Flute Murders-Seishi Yokomizo

Till We Have Faces-C.S. Lewis^

A Morbid Taste for Bones-Ellis Peters

The Decagon House Murders- Yukito Ayatsuji

Dying Inside- Robert Silverberg

Salt: A World History- Mark Kurlansky

One Corpse Too Many- Ellis Peters

Faithful Ruslan- Georgi Vladimov^

The Book of Three-Lloyd Alexander#

Silence- Shusaku Endo

The Invisible Man- H.G. Wells

The Daughter of Time- Josephine Tey

The Night Guest- Hildur Knutsdottir

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd-Agatha Christie#

Oathbreakers: The War of Brothers that Shattered and Empire and Made Medieval Europe- Matthew Gabriele and David Perry

#Reread

^Highly Recommended

@thoughtfulfangirling

#read in 2024 #reading

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totallyhussein-blog · 5 months ago

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Take a journey with The Wolf of Baghdad

In the 1940’s, a third of Baghdad’s population was Jewish. Within a decade nearly all of Iraq’s 150,000 Jews had fled. 'The Wolf of Baghdad' is a graphic memoir of a lost homeland and a wordless narrative for a home never visited.

'The Wolf of Baghdad' is a unique audio-visual journey through a Jewish family’s memories of their lost Iraqi homeland and speaks to audiences about the little-known story of Iraqi Jews.

#manchester #london #uk #scotland #baghdad #jewish history #judaism #jewish tumblr #san francisco #comic books #reading #bookworm #iraqi jews

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handsofaman · 1 month ago

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Thought Bombs

When the engineers of Acheron finally dissected the heart of the Yosemite anomaly and created the resultant Pillars, they found a strange a result. Incidents proved that machines the size of the universe were more than capable of influencing it through sheer thought alone, folding space with wandering tangents and manifesting whole fleets for a laugh. After the dark ages began and man’s idols were forced to turn the sword against their kin, the thought bomb was discovered.

Guernica, a category-3 Pillar, was the centerpiece of the Wolf Republic fleet and the leader of its conduit. The Ascendancy’s fleet, while being diminutive in size, beat Guernica at every turn through the sheer force of their Pillar. Baghdad was a category-1 in every sense of the word, capable of predicting battles centuries before the ships were designed.

Among the 11 system along the contested border, Poi’no, Haven, and Kemmerson’s Keep were the only ones with sizable populations. Poi’no the most, given its importance in computational research. Kemmerson’s Keep had seen the brunt of the fighting, with its fortress star being assailed constantly by drones, humans, and organoids alike. Guernica had dispatched a force, composed mostly of humans and bondsmen, so immense they were able to man 68% of the battle stations on KK-prime, but Baghdad had already withdrawn its forces and starved the force of material reinforcements. Within a few years, the bulk of the legion was forced to return or had starved.

And then, during a minor skirmish in the Poi’no system, Baghdad was confronted with something it hadn’t predicted. The orbital radius of its 2nd exoplanets was 68 miles larger than it could have been, something utterly impossible given everything the machine understood. For fourteen months the Ascendancy’s Fleet of the Golden Circle was immobile, titanic ships frozen in the void as their multi kilometer long hulls basked in the red star’s glow. On the fourteenth month, Baghdad annihilated itself and the entirety of its fleet alongside Poi’no-2. Guernica had engineered an unsolvable riddle by utilizing the entirety of its processing power to transport a version of itself back in time to alter the formation of the planets core. The very same wreckage the colonists discovered and deconstructed to create Guernica in the first place.

#writing #science fiction #scifi #far future

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uneasylisteningradio · 6 months ago

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The Kids Just Don't Understand August 11, 2024

Image: Desborde

listen to the show

Carole King - Pleasant Valley Sunday Neutrals - That's Him On the Daft Stuff Again

DJ speaks over TV Dust - U Say II

Naked Roommate - Bus Narkan - Per Mano Tua Class - Just a Worm Hekátē - Φώναξε

Industry - Human Realm Abi Ooze - of Power SKAMFLÄCK - 20% Av Svenskarna Är Svin Psychic Death - Brutal Truth Mommy Boys - Plumper Haufen Sodom & Sagesse - Acidaction

CAVE SEX - Survival / Affliction Hassan Ideddir - Atfalouna Abyecta - Hoy no Hay Mañana

Kosmetika - Mirror Citric Dummies - Trapped in a Parking Garage Subdued - Abbatoir Alhambrada - Primer Mundo Beth Anderson - I Can't Stand It Added Dimensions - Compartmentalize Xmal Deutschland - Zu Jung Zu Alt

Assistert Sjølmord - Røndgtenblikk GEFYR - Nazismens Plagiat Desenterradas - Parálisis del Sueño Melenas - Bang (Peanut Butter Wolf remix) Kalashnikov Collective - Spero Venga La Guerra / Combatti / Ti Obbligano Ad Obbedire CLAMM - Define Free

Weak Signal - Wannabe KIÉGETT FÖLD - SZŐNYEGBOMBÁZÁST BUDAPESTNEK Sihir - Kuasa American Muscle - I Don't Want to Do Anything Klavo - Berlin Blitz

Limbo District - Daydreaming The Carp - Fairview Park Skins Nightshift - Y. T. Tutorial 22 Beaches - Somebody Got It Wrong Ortrotasce - Part From Myself

Domesticatrix - Downer Festa del Perdono - Il primo freddo Artificial Go - Pay Phone Dogs - Maureen Guiding Light - Magpie Desborde - El Grupo del Momento Madalitso Band - Lenisa

Born Against - Riding With Mary Poison Idea - Star of Baghdad Hiatus - Let Me Dead Cimitero - Cucchiaio di Ferro

Chumbawamba - The Good Ship Lifestyle

#radio #community radio #punk #music #playlist #post punk #wprb #new wave #hardcore punk #garage rock #the kids just don't understand

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bansheeoftheforest · 29 days ago

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A Leap (Into Your Arms) [AC Basim & Hytham]

So I unintentionally lied in my written-in-8-hours-in-one-sitting fic from two days ago and I proceeded to unintentionally write another fic. That I have learned my lesson about and won't claim to be my last fic of the year even though the odds are very big.

I am also keeping their relationship vague for the sole reason of me not having finished any media that they are in so I simply Do Not Know Enough. So this could potentially be either platonic (like intended) or a shipfic if you squint <3

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Wordcount: 3,486

Summary: After being left behind by his mentor for weeks, Hytham gets fed up and refuses to speak to him upon his return. Basim realizes that, above all, he doesn't want to lose his little eagle.

CW: Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Fluff. And also most likely OOC depictions and general inaccuracies.

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The bureau was... Quiet.

It was the middle of the day, the settlement of Ravensthorpe was as busy and active as ever as the villagers worked their trades, yet his apprentice was nowhere to be seen. Ever since the little green building had been built, the Raven Clan could be sure to find him tinkering away with his scrolls within its walls. Yet today, he could not find him.

He had arrived with Sigurd a few hours earlier. Their return had been welcomed, the Wolf-Kissed seemed especially happy to have their brother by their side once more, however briefly, yet by the small crowd that had gathered, Basim had not seen Hytham among the friendly faces. He had, therefore, concluded that he was not aware of their return, or that he was waiting for him in the bureau. Yet, as the assassin peeked inside, he had seen neither hide nor hair of him. He couldn’t say he knew where to look, either.

Yet, look he did. In the longhouse, by the stables, and now he stood by the little square between the docks and the merchant-child’s tent, and while he began to grow a little worried, he refused to ask any of the Norsemen for the acolyte’s whereabouts. He could not let them believe that he had simply let Hytham run off, that he could not keep track of him, even if that is precisely what had happened. In all honesty, he began to feel frustrated. Yet he knew that it was unfair for him to assume that Hytham had been made aware of their arrival, and that his mentor’s struggle to find him was no fault of his own.

A flutter of white fabric passed the corner of his eyes. As he turned, he saw the tail-end of Hytham’s robes disappearing behind the corner, up the path between the trader and the bureau. It was undeniably him, he could recognise him anywhere. He called out for him, successfully gathering the attention of the villagers, but Hytham did not stop.

He hurried after him. While Hytham still limped, he was fast. He called his name again, he saw the acolyte’s head turn only slightly, purely by instinct, showing that he heard him, yet he continued. Basim would have to jog to catch up with him. Momentarily, he wondered if this was some sort of game, cat and mouse, yet as Hytham hurried his pace, the master assassin quickly realized that he was trying to lose him. It was harder in the small settlement of Ravensthorpe than it had been in the bustling city of Baghdad, yet he did his valiant attempt at moving between the buildings and keeping his calm, as if to not alert anyone or anything. Basim knew better than to take to sprint for exactly the same reason.

Perhaps he was lucky that Hytham was injured, even if that thought tasted bitter, as the younger one had no choice but to slow down once he came to the red-leaved tree in front of the stables. His steps haltered, slowed, and his laboured breaths echoed throughout the air. He seemed to have no choice but to stop fully, lean his side against a tree by the road, and wait for Basim to catch up.

“Hytham-” Still, his apprentice did not look at him, “what on earth has gotten into you?”

Hytham took a deep breath. Finally, when Basim cornered him against the tree, he had no choice but to look at him. For the first time, or perhaps the first time Basim could remember, the acolyte’s blue eyes felt like spikes of ice. As he spoke, aware of the interested eyes of the Raven Clan, he switched to their arabic mother-tongue.

“So now you wish to speak to me?” Was all he said, voice coming out in short wheezes while he still steadied his breathing.

“Am I not allowed to speak to my apprentice?” Basim replied, effortlessly so in the language only they knew. There was no denying that he was frustrated, to some degree mad. What right had Hytham to run from him, to look at him, to speak to him like that? “Have you forgotten that I am your mentor?”

“No.” He said simply. “Have you?”

He might as well have stabbed him clean with the blade on his wrist, and thrusted the cold metal between his ribs. Hytham seemed to recognise the momentary slip of expression, the way Basim’s eyes widened only slightly, the way his breathing hitched, the way his confusion became evident through the small changes only his own apprentice could recognise so close up.

“You take me to Norway,” he continued, “to kill Kjotve. Yet when I fail, you speak no word to me, you take me across another ocean to England, just to leave me with yet more silence. You do not speak to me, you do not look at me-”

He took another deep breath, a pause. And when Basim did not interject, he continued.

“-you leave me in my bureau as if I am an object to leave behind or a hindrance that will only slow you down. You run from me like a coward. If you wish to speak to me, then speak to me what is already on your mind. Tell me to my face that I am a disappointment, that I am your failure, and that the very sight of me disgusts you.”

In all their years together, he could never remember a time where he had heard the other’s voice drip with so much venom, seething with a quiet rage he could barely hold in, a vicious dog, cornered. Yet, of all the things Basim had imagined his silence to be caused by, his words surprised him. For the better part of a moment, he could do little else but to merely stare wordlessly at the other. Finally, he swallowed dryly.

“I cannot tell you that,” He said, “because it is not true.”

Wrong answer.

Hytham let out a frustrated growl, and used his last bit of energy to push Basim away from him. He did not run away, but he refused to let that man corner him and lie straight to his face. Basim was quick, skilled, silver-tongued, yet he felt helpless against the watchful gaze of his apprentice.

“Then what is true? Hmm ? You tell me nothing . How am I to know what is true when my very own mentor will not speak to me?”

“Hytham-”

“You run away. Every time, you run away. For such a blood-thristy man, you have done nothing but run away from me ever since Norway. You say it is for the Order, for our Creed, yet you leave me to pick up those pieces and hand them off to someone else. Instead, you run away with barely as much as a goodbye, an acknowledgement that you are leaving your very own apprentice behind.”

“I am not leaving you behind-”

“Then what are you doing?”

He wanted to sigh. He wanted to tell him that he was being ridiculous. He wanted to tell him that he cannot talk to him when he is like this, yet he knew very well that such words would only set the young one off even further.

He... He wasn’t sure what to say. And finally, as his thoughts ran away from him, attempting to find the words that would reel the other in, calm him, assure him, time ran out. His apprentice sighed.

“You will have an answer before you leave.” He said. “Or I will return to Alamut alone.”

With that, he stalked off. He seemed to care not for the pain it caused him, hurrying his steps, away from the conversation, away from Basim, who could do nothing but watch, as the observant villagers began to scatter.

Sigurd had decided that they would be staying in Ravensthorpe for a few days, until they next departed.

Somewhere, Basim was... Split. He refused to admit it, he swallowed the angry, bitter feeling within him, the admittance that he wished to leave immediately, dare Hytham to leave and return to the Brotherhood in Alamut, in disbelief that he would ever dare to abandon his mission. The other part of him, the softer part, the weaker part, ached. Yet his reasoning won over both his anger and his grief, he knew that, logically, Hytham’s departure would be a stick in the wheel for the destruction of the Order in England, and it would reflect poorly on him as a mentor if his apprentice returned home alone, injured, speaking of abandonment.

Cold. Calloused, perhaps, though he didn’t know if it was him or Hytham.

So, for the rest of the day, he attempted to... Figure something out. Hytham had, logically, burrowed in the bureau, he had closed and locked the doors and the shutters to the windows, clearly he did not wish to be disturbed, and Basim knew that angering the normally level-headed one further would only insite more violence. So he wandered. Away from Ravensthorpe, where he had no doubt that their conversation was and would remain the gossip of the week.

And as he wandered, he... Ached.

Hytham’s words, his insults, his threats, rang as clear in his head as if he was still there with him, spitting them out over and over. It was not like him. Hytham had always been soft-spoken and eager and gentle. He looked up to the Brotherhood, to Basim, as a worshipper would their god, with an everlasting faithfulness and the loyalty of a lapdog. Yet he had wronged him so majorly that he ran away from him, despised the site of him, and seethed in his very presence. He wanted to excuse it. He wanted to convince himself that it was not his wrongdoing, no, it had to be something else- did he perhaps not like Ravensthorpe? Or had one of the Norsemen wronged him?

He knew the answer. At the very least he did when he returned for the evening, exhausted and tired and weary, entering the longhouse for food, and saw how Hytham went from laughing in the clan’s company to quickly excusing himself and stalking off the moment he sensed Basim’s presence. As he walked past him by the entrance, he did not even look at him.

He had, against his better judgement, attempted to speak to the Wolf-Kissed. Yet they had merely looked at him strangely, almost suspiciously, surely having heard about their public argument, and stated that Hytham got along well and seemed to thrive with the Raven Clan. Further than so, they did not say, and Basim felt no need to ask more.

For two days, he haunted the settlement. When he was close by, Hytham practically barricaded himself within the bureau, and when he had deemed Basim far away enough, he easily slipped out and socialized with the Raven Clan, trained on the dummies placed outside the bureau, or merely cuddled the cats that roamed the settlement, even when he knew that Basim was watching. If he was far away enough, he did not seem to care. And so Basim extended him the grace of being the one to leave the premises during the evenings when the clan gathered to eat, so that Hytham would not feel the need to hide away and starve within his little cabin. In the end, as infuriating as that man was, a thorn in his side and an ache in his heart, he did not wish for him to hurt more.

That, he could not deny. He did care. He always had, in some way, even if he had to admit that it was true that he had not shown it lately. They were not in Constantinople or Baghdad anymore, where they could be side-by-side, fight shoulder-to-shoulder, jump from the same ledge and land in the same haypile. They were older, if only slightly. Perhaps that Hytham, that Basim, were long gone already. Perhaps this Basim was risking losing this Hytham, slipping through his fingers like soft sand.

Sigurd had announced their departure for the following day. If he would speak to Hytham, he had to do so now.

He jumped from the cliff ledge at which he had been perched, landing soft as always, and continued towards the bureau. It was dark, late into the night when the feast had died down, the glow of firelight in the windows of the various cabins already extinguished, but the light in the bureau slipped through the cracks of the closed doors and the shuttered windows. He knew Hytham well enough to know that he would never sleep with fire still burning.

He attempted to knock. No answer. And so he attempted to open the door, and found it unlocked. Perhaps Hytham had expected him tonight.

The apprentice in question was seated by a desk, his back turned to him, writing something. He knew he heard him, yet he did not acknowledge him, not even as Basim stepped inside and closed the door behind him. His writing, however, stopped for a very brief moment.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Basim did not need to see Hytham’s full face to see that he was trying to not roll his eyes. An ‘of course you were’ echoed in both of their minds, yet Hytham merely sighed, laid down the quill with which he had been writing, and stood up. He turned, and leaned the back of his hips against the desk, and crossed his arms. He said nothing, clearly waiting for Basim to start.

While he had spent the better part of three days attempting to decipher his own mind and formulate what to say, now, standing face to face with his apprentice, he could not help but feel mute. Was it shame? Guilt? Anger? He had never been one for emotions, and now they were nothing but a tangled mess of audacity and fear, and for every moment that passed in silence, Hytham’s expression soured. Finally, Basim stood straight, clasping his hands behind his back, a familiar position he had yet to tell who had gotten from who.

“Hytham, I...” Dear God, he could not begin to stutter now. He took a deep breath, and started over. “I apologise.”

This was clearly not what Hytham had expected. His eyes widened, his eyebrows rose, almost comically expressive with how they had been knit together just a moment prior.

“You are right. I have been a poor excuse of a mentor as of late. I should have communicated with you. For that, I am sorry.”

It felt... Strange, with how their dynamic had always been. While they got along like a wildfire prior to Norway, Basim did not apologise, he had little regrets in the life that he had lived, it was Hytham that made mistakes and apologised and was forgiven, but now...

Hytham moved to speak, but Basim continued.

“And I do not want you to think that I think of you as a failure. It is true I have treated you less than well since Kjotve, but not because I was disappointed in you. I will admit, I was mad, but above all, I was...” He hesitated. A mental lock that he did not wish to unlock, but Hytham’s mere presence held a key. “...Scared.”

“...Scared?”

“Absolutely terrified.”

His apprentice, his Hytham, looked at him with such confusion, like a lost puppy. Basim dared to take a step closer, and Hytham did not attempt to flee.

“When he threw you towards the cliff wall,” he continued, “I could have sworn that I heard your spine snap. And when you laid lifeless against the ground, I thought I had lost you for good within a few seconds. I thought I had watched you leap to your own death.”

Hytham... He did not know what to say. Not when his mentor was mere steps away from him, a distance not closed since Basim had returned, and cornered him against that tree.

“I...” Hytham swallowed, nervous, or perhaps merely shocked. Perhaps faced with a possibility he had not yet considered. “I apologise.”

“No.” The forceful tone almost got the apprentice to flinch. “I should not have encouraged you. You were following my orders, and for that, I punished you.”

He did, undeniably. He had barely spoken to him, and when he did, he had snapped, forced the poor boy to cower from both pain and the fear of his very own mentor’s anger. It was downright shameful. Hytham did not deserve that, he never did.

Basim took another deep breath. A short moment to gather his thoughts, swallow the inherent shame of the situation, the memories, and the conversation, down.

“I cannot claim that I can fully grasp why I have behaved the way I have,” he continued. “But I think I have... Underestimated the situation. You, as a skilled assassin, and my own fears that I might one day lead you to your death.”

“I know what I got myself into-”

“I know that you do. I know that you know that the life of an assassin is dangerous, and that the path I track is no different. But where my own self-preservation falters, it searches for you.”

Basim had never been an affectionate person. He was undeniably aloof in many ways, actively so in his mentoring, yet what he might have wished for as an apprentice himself was not what an apprentice like Hytham needed. Neither of them needed the secrecy, Hytham did not need a superior to simply watch over and judge him. He needed a mentor.

“I hope,” Basim continued, “that you can forgive me. And I promise you that I will do my very best to keep this from happening again, should you wish to stay. But I will also understand if you wish to go home.”

“...Promise?”

A voice so small, so soft. For a moment, Hytham was once more the little boy on the tower, trying to leap. Basim could not help but feel his lips twist into a small, reminiscent smile.

“I promise.”

The apprentice seemed... Shaken. And while he tried to brush it off, attempted to calm his breathing, Basim leaped. He closed the last distance, and with Hytham’s questioning words silenced, he wrapped his arms around him. A hug. Holding him close, as if afraid that he would disappear if he let go. An arm around his back, the other cradling the back of his head.

The ever faithful acolyte tensed. Both were ready to flee, yet, before Basim could let go, Hytham’s own arms wrapped around the taller one’s middle, burying his face into the crook of his neck. There, they stayed for multiple moments, until the smaller one began to dig his fingers into the older one’s robes, breath rasping, knees buckling. His body was exhausted, and he could hold on no longer.

“Basim- I-”

“Shhh,” He could not claim to know Hytham as well as he wished he did, yet he knew what was ailing him. He tightened his grip, and gently lowered the both of them, until Hytham was safe on the floor, legs no longer giving in under him, and the hug never parted from. Basim positioned them, he rested his own back against the leg of the desk, parted his own legs, and let his apprentice’s meager frame rest between them, against his chest, arms still holding him tight. He did not want to let him go, and Hytham let him. “I got you.”

They were grown. They were grown men, deadly assassins, with the blood of thousands upon their hands, yet now, as he held him, it did not feel strange. It felt like returning home, as he nuzzled against the top of his head, felt his soft hair against his cheek, felt the weight of Hytham within his very soul. And as Hytham finally allowed himself to relax, untense, and close his eyes...

“...I forgive you,” he murmured, somewhere against the fabric of Basim’s hood and his shoulder. “And I wish to stay, if you will have me.”

The mentor’s grip tightened. For the first time since Norway, it felt as if a burden was eased off of his shoulder, a grip loosening around his heart.

“I will have you.” He whispered, placing a soft kiss to the top of his acolyte’s forehead. Hytham let out a soft, content sigh. “We will make this right.”

Perhaps he could convince Sigurd that he could join the new expedition later. For now, his priority lay with Hytham. For the first time since Norway, they felt... Content. Even as Hytham’s exhausted body lulled him to sleep, even as Basim stayed, unmoving, savouring the moment for as long as he could.

He did not know for how long he would have Hytham by his side, but for now, he was content.

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