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writersblockiskillingme · 4 months

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The Great War | Finnick Odair

Pairing/s: Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Summary: After everything that you've been through during the rebellion you finally found the peace with Finnick.

Warning/s: angst with happy ending, hurt/comfort, war, weapons (reader has a knife), bow and arrows, trident, axe, syringe, violence, fighting, Katniss gets struck by lightning, blood, trust issues, attempted suicide (not graphical, but it's talked about), wounds, pills, trauma, Finnick ALMOST dying, Snow's execution and Coin's death, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: Once again, a fic inspired by Taylor Swift's song (are we really surprised?)

My knuckles were bruised like violets

Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked

Spineless in my tomb of silence

Tore your banners down, took the battle underground

And maybe it was ego swinging

Maybe it was her

Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur

The heat was getting to your head, it was staring to be too much. It already was.

The holes in your bodysuit that were the consequence of the poisonous fog were everywhere it seemed like. Your hair was sticking to your face because of the sweat from the intense heat and exhaustion. You gripped your knife that seemed to fit you a little too perfectly. The golden earing that Haymitch gifted you so that Katniss could recognize you as one of her allies was hitting the side of your face as you ran to the lightning tree.

You were terrified. You were in on the plan to get Katniss out, of course. Everyone except Katniss and Peeta was.

You did your part. You joined Johanna and cut out the tracker inside of Katniss' arm. But that's when things went wrong. One of the carriers attempted to attack you. It was dark, tropical trees were everywhere, you couldn't see anything. You didn't know who attacked you. All you knew was that you pushed Katniss away to keep her hidden and Johanna ordered you to run while she distracted the person who tried to attack. For a moment you stood there frozen, hesitant. Johanna Mason then swinged her axe at you and you had no choice but to bolt away as fast as you could.

Your mind was racing too fast. Finnick. Katniss. You had to get to that tree to make sure that they are there. That they are okay because you were one hundred percent sure that if they weren't you would lose your mind. You would become the madness itself.

You didn't hear anything but two pairs of footsteps running somewhere north from you. You kept running, trying to ignore the intense dehydration, heat and exhaustion. But as you didn't hear nor see Johanna after a while you started to seriously regret your decision.

You pushed your was through to the lightning tree. You didn't have time to catch your breath because it was immediately knocked out of you as you saw Katniss pointing her arrow at Finnick. He was still holding his trident, but you know that he wouldn't use it even if she did shoot him.

"Katniss!" Your raspy voice yelled out, Finnick immediately turned to you. A look of relief washing over him as he saw you.

"Remember who the real enemy is." Finnick reminded the girl on fire and at that moment realization washed over her. You could see it.

She looked at Beetee who was unconscious behind her. The coil was still there. She quickly picked it up, wrapping it around her arrow before pointing it at the sky.

At that moment both fear and adrenaline washed over you. She was going to blow up the arena once the lightning strikes the tree.

"Katniss!" Finnick's voice rang out. "Get away from that tree!"

You started to panic. You were getting out of time. Finnick, Katniss, Beetee and you were the only ones who came. Johanna was nowhere to be found. Peeta didn't return yet. Your ever racing mind pushed you to run towards Finnick as fast as you could.

"Katniss, get away from that tree!" Finnick's voice rang out once more before you saw it.

Katniss pointed at the sky, the lightning striked the tree and she let the arrow fly.

The last thing that you saw was the bright light from the lightning, a bloody screams that left Katniss' and your mouths and a painful grunt from the love of your life before the mere force of the lightnings hit sent you flying into the trees behind you before the darkness overtook you.

Once you woke up everything was hurting you. You felt so numb. You felt so numb yet you somehow felt everything. It was truly horrific.

The oxygen mask was planted onto your face as your eyes scanned the unknown territory. Everything was white and so clean. You turned your head to the side and spotted Katniss Everdeen, still knocked out beside you, and Beetee, not that far away from you. He was still unconscious, too. At that moment, you felt panic arise in your chest, consuming you. Where was Finnick?

You violently ripped the oxygen mask from your face as you stood up, ignoring the sharp pain that traveled across your body. What were you going to do? You patted your thigh, but your knife was gone. You knew that you weren't thinking rationally, but you never did when it came to him.

You spotted a see-through box a few feet away from you. A syringe was in there. It was filled with an unknown liquid, but you guessed that someone knocked you unconscious with this so you took the risk as you placed the syringe in the palm of your hand.

You strolled silently towards the door. You jumped a bit as the door suddenly opened. You raised the syringe in the air, ready to attack anyone who stood behind the door if you needed to.

You felt yourself slowly lowering the syringe in your hand as you saw who stood in front of you. Haymitch and Plutarch Heavensbee. You made it. You were relatively safe. But not seeing Finnick didn't calm your nerves. If anything it just fueled the fire in your veins.

"Where is Finnick?" You hissed out, your voice dangerously lowered that you scared yourself for a brief moment. You knew that you probably looked like a mad woman, but you didn't really find it in yourself to care.

"Y/N." Haymitch slowly approached you, he raised his hands in the air in front of him as an attempt to both calm you down and show you that he won't hurt you. "He's here. On the chair, he's still unconscious."

You turned to look at the side that Haymitch was pointing at and there he was. In a blue shirt that was too big for him. You threw the syringe onto the desk in the middle of the room as you stared at him. Relief washing over you like the waves back at your District.

"What happened while I was out?" You asked Haymitch waiting for an explanation as you didn't take your eyes off of Finnick.

"We couldn't rescue Johanna and Peeta." Haymitch sighed, he was obviously afraid that you would try to attack again and this time succeed after you hear the news that he had for you. "They still have trackers in their arms. We cut Finnick's, Beetee's and yours out after we rescued you."

He stopped here and you waited. You waited for his words to finally hit you.

"The Capitol took Peeta and Johanna."

Out of nowhere, the darkness overtook you once again. The last thing you remember was Haymitch catching you in his arms and Finnick yelling out your name.

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, sweet dream was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, tears on the letter

I vowed not to cry anymore

If we survived the Great War

The room of the hospital wing at District 13 was dimly lit. The cold metal walls of one of the hospital rooms felt like they were closing in on you, cutting the space for you to breath. Perhaps that was one of the reasons as to why your breaths came in ragged gasps as you suddenly woke up from your state. You sat up in your bed, sweat-soaked and still trembling. Another nightmare. The same one that haunted your every dream, every night, since the first night that you left the arena from your games. The arena, the blood, the faces of those you had to kill. Everything came back to haunt you once again.

Suddenly the door slid open with a harsh, quick movement.

Finnick slept in the room next door. You knew he was there, even before you heard the footsteps approaching. Pretty soon your suspicions were proven to be correct. There he was, shirtless and disheveled, concern etched on his face.

"Y/N." He whispered, crossing the room in a few strides. His arms enveloped you, pulling your crying, shaking form close to him providing the protection that you needed. "Another nightmare?"

You felt yourself nod, burying your face in his chest as you tried your hardest to just dissappear. His skin was warm against your cold, tear stained cheek, a stark contrast to the icy memories that plagued you.

"I can't escape them, Finnick." Your voice shook, a sob at the tip of your lips. "Their screams, the blood... everything. I relive it each and every night since that year."

He held you tighter, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back.

"You're safe here now, darling." He murmured. "We're in 13. The Capitol can't touch us here." He talked, as if he tried to remind you where you are right now, trying to pull you away from the horrific nightmare that he was oh so familiar with himself.

"The guilt is eating me alive." Your voice cracked, a silent tear sliding down your cheek. "I killed them. How can I possibly live with that?"

Finnick tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His sea-green eyes bore into yours, fierce and unwavering.

"My love, listen to me." His soft voice spoke to you. "We all did what we had to do. The Games were a nightmare, but we made it out. We're alive."

"But at what cost?" Tears welled up, threatening to spill. "I can't forget their faces. The ones I killed. The ones that I left behind..."

"You promised me something, remember?" He wiped a lost tear away with his thumb. "Back before I was forced to send you into that arena alone. You promised me that you will survive and come back to me. You did."

"I know, but-"

"No buts." His voice was firm, it reminded you of the time that he trained you before you went into the arena for the first time. Back when you two were just a mentor and a tribute, nothing more. "You're so much stronger than you think you are, love. We all carry scars, but they don't define us. I want you to promise me something now."

"And that is?" You asked him as you kept your eyes on him.

"Promise me that you won't cry anymore. Not because of the Capitol or the nightmares. We survived, Y/N. And we'll keep surviving."

You hesitated, but then you nodded. "I promise."

"Good. Now get some rest. I'll be right here when you wake up." Finnick pressed his lips to your forehead, a gentle kiss that sent warmth through your veins.

As you settled back against the pillows, his arms were still wrapped around you, giving you sense of protection you came to a realization that maybe you could find comfort in the darkness that seemed to constantly try to consume you. With Finnick by your side, the nightmares seemed less terrifying, and the promise that you made him that night felt like it will last a lifetime.

And so, in the quiet of that hospital room in District 13, underground, you closed your eyes, vowing to keep your promise. No more fear, you knew that you would be all right as long as your love was next to you.

You drew up some good faith treaties

I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone

You said I have to trust more freely

But diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire

And maybe it's the past that's talkin'

Screamin' from the crypt

Tellin' me to punish you for things you never did

So I justified it

The sterile white walls of District 13's hospital pressed in on you, suffocating you, stripping you of fresh air that your lungs needed right now. You sat at the edge of your hospital bed, your fingers tracing the material of the purple medical bracelet around your waist that said that you were "Mentally disoriented". The label of the chaos that boiled within you.

The doctors came and went, you heard their voices, but they didn't reach your brain, your messed up mind. They offered so many pills, you didn't even know what pill was for what anymore. They offered therapy sessions and worst of all, sympathetic glances. They looked at you like you were broken and you were, but you hated it with burning passion. Yet after all of that, you couldn't trust them. Not after everything that you went through. The arena, the cruelty of the Capitol, the loss of your friends. The nightmares that still clung to you like shadows, following your every step, and the darkness that constantly threatened to swallow you whole.

Finnick sat beside you. His hand brushed against yours, a silent reassurance. His eyes held a depth of understanding. The kind of understanding that came only from someone who survived the horrors too immense to name.

"You don't have to face this alone." He said softly. His voice was your lifeline, pulling you back from the endless abyss. "Y/N, let them help you."

"They don't understand, Finnick." You whispered in the quietness of the room. "They can't understand."

"Maybe not, but I do." His thumb traced circles on your palm.

"Finnick, I-" You met his gaze, the weight of your pain reflected in his sea-green eyes.

Before you could finish, though, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. It was a desperate kiss, fueled by fear and longing. His mouth tasted of salt and the sea.

"Don't shut me out." He murmured against your lips, his voice sweater then honey. "I can't lose you, too."

"I'm broken, Finnick." Tears welled up blurring your vision.

"No." He said fiercely. "You're not broken. You're a survivor. And you're mine."

Finnick pulled you into his arms, holding you as if you were fragile glass. His heartbeat echoed against your chest, a rhythm of hope.

"Promise me." He whispered. "Promise me that you won't try to leave me behind again."

The memory of the razor blade, the cold metal against your skin, haunted you. You'd wanted an escape, a way to silence the screams of your fellow tributes that echoed in your mind. But the doctors had intervened, wrestling the blade from your trembling hand.

"I promise." You choked out. "But what if I can't keep it?"

"Then I'll be here." He vowed, his grip on your hands tightened. "Every step of the way. We'll fight this darkness together."

And so, in the sterile hospital room that you were forced to stay in, Finnick and you clung to each other. The fragile threads of two broken souls entwined. Finnick's love was a lifeline, pulling you back from the blink. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to believe that survival was possible. Even when the nightmares threatened to consume you.

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the bombs were close and

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, the burning embers

I vowed not to fight anymore

If we survived the Great War

Uh-huh

The air was thick with tension, the walls of District 13 trembling as the Capitol’s bombs rained down upon them. Finnick now stood alongside you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. His sea-green eyes were filled with worry, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest once again.

The lockdown sirens blared, drowning out the screams of panic echoing through the corridors. People rushed past you, seeking shelter, but you and Finnick remained rooted to the spot. The world outside seemed to blur as you clung to each other, seeking solace in the midst of chaos.

“Y/N.” Finnick whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “We’ll get through this. Somehow we always do.”

You nodded, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. His stubble scratched against your skin, a familiar sensation that grounded you. The Capitol had taken so much from both of you—the Games, the torture, the loss—but here, in this moment, you had each other.

The bombs continued to fall, shaking the ground beneath your feet. You pressed your cheek against Finnick’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. His hand slid down to your lower back, holding you close as if he could shield you from the destruction outside.

“I love you.” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the chaos everywhere around you. “After all this is over, I promise I won’t fight anymore. No more battles, no more bloodshed.”

Finnick’s grip tightened. “Y/N, you don’t have to—”

“No.” You interrupted. “I mean it. We’ve both seen enough violence, lost enough people. If we survive this war, I want a different life. A peaceful one. With you.”

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning.

“A peaceful life...” he repeated, as if testing the words. “Together.”

“Together.” You nodded, your heart swelling with determination.

And so, as the bombs continued to fall, you made a silent vow. You would survive this war, not for the rebellion or for justice, but for the chance to hold Finnick Odair in your arms without fear. To build a future where love could flourish, where scars could heal, and where promises were kept.

In the chaos of District 13’s lockdown, you clung to each other, two souls battered by the storm. But love was your anchor, and as long as you had that, you knew you could weather anything—even the wrath of the Capitol.

It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

Your finger on my hair pin triggers

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

I really thought I lost you

The hallway was dimly lit, the flickering fluorescent bulbs casting eerie shadows on the cold metal walls. You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for Finnick. The room where the victors were supposed to meet felt like a prison. A place where memories of the Games and the Capitol’s cruelty still lingered.

The rebellion had succeeded. The Capitol was in chaos, its once-mighty regime crumbling. But victory came at a cost. The mutts, the twisted, genetically engineered creatures, had nearly taken Finnick from you. Katniss had told you about it, her voice raw with emotion. How he’d fought tooth and nail, how he’d almost been torn apart.

And now, as you waited, your fingers trembling, you couldn’t shake the image of his bloodied form from your mind. The way he’d looked at you before leaving for that final mission, the promise in his eyes, the unspoken words that he will return to you alive, in one piece. You’d clung to that promise, held it close like a fragile flame in the darkest of nights.

The door creaked open, and there he was, Finnick Odair, the boy with the sea-green eyes and the tragic past. His hair was disheveled, his skin pale, but he was alive. He stepped into the hallway, and you rushed to him, throwing your arms around his neck. His scent, the salt of the sea that carried itself back from your home, the tang of sweat, filled your senses, and you buried your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“Finnick.” you whispered, your voice breaking. “You’re here. You’re alive.”

His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, you forgot about the war, the mutts, the bloodshed. It was just the two of you, clinging to each other like shipwreck survivors in a stormy sea.

“I promised, didn’t I?” His voice was hoarse, but there was a hint of a smile. “I always keep my promises.”

You pulled away, your hands delicately framing his face. His cheek was bruised, a gash running along his jawline. But his eyes, they held a fierce determination, a fire that refused to be extinguished.

“You idiot!” you said, your voice trembling. “You almost died.”

“But I didn’t. And I won’t. Not as long as you’re here.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you kissed him, desperate, hungry, as if you could swallow away the pain, the fear, the memories. His lips were warm, tasting of salt and survival. And in that kiss, you made a silent vow, a promise of your own.

“After this war...” you whispered against his mouth, “we’ll find a place where the sea meets the sky. Somewhere far from the Capitol, far from the Games. We’ll heal, Finnick. Together.”

He kissed you again, and this time, it was slow, tender. “Together.” he murmured. “Always.”

And so, in the hallway of broken dreams, you held each other, two fractured souls seeking solace. The victors’ meeting could wait. For now, all that mattered was this fragile moment, the taste of salt, the warmth of love, and the promise of a future beyond the horrors of Panem.

We can plant a memory garden

Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair

And we will never go back

The air in District 13 was thick with tension as the rebels gathered to witness the execution of President Snow. The Capitol had fallen, and the weight of years of suffering and loss hung heavily on everyone's shoulders. Finnick, like always, stood beside you. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining as you both faced the president.

The crowd murmured, their collective breaths held. The noose tightened around Snow's neck, and the man who had orchestrated so much pain and death finally met his end. You didn't feel relief; instead, a hollow emptiness settled within you. The cycle of violence had consumed too many lives, and you wondered if it would ever truly end.

After the execution, you and Finnick retreated to your small quarter that was given to you at the presidential palace. You packed the few belongings you had left, folding clothes and tucking away mementos. Finnick watched you, his eyes shadowed by the ghosts of the arena.

"Y/N." he said softly, breaking the silence. "We've survived so much. But now… maybe it's time for something different."

You turned to face him, your heart aching. "Different how?"

He stepped closer, cupping your cheek. "Peace, Y/N. We've fought, bled, and lost. Maybe it's time we find our own peace."

His words resonated within you. You thought of the horrors you'd witnessed—the Hunger Games, the rebellion, the deaths of friends. The scars ran deep, and you wondered if healing was even possible.

As if sensing your turmoil, Finnick pulled you into his arms. His embrace was both tender and desperate.

"We finally get to leave." he murmured against your hair. "Find a quiet place in 4, away from the chaos. Somewhere we can heal."

"But Katniss…" you began, thinking of the broken girl who had become the Mockingjay.

Finnick kissed your forehead. "Katniss will find her way. She's strong. And she has Peeta."

The next morning, you stood with Finnick on the platform in front of the train that would take you to District 4. Katniss approached, her eyes red-rimmed from grief and exhaustion. You took her hands, feeling the weight of her pain.

"Katniss, don't do this to yourself anymore, I beg you." Your soft voice reached her ears. "After everything… we'll try to find the peace we all deserve. I hope you find it too."

"Also, there is something that Finnick and I wanted to let you know before we leave the Capitol." you said gently.

She looked at you, her expression wary.

"I'm pregnant." you announced and Finnick's grip on your waist tightened.

Katniss blinked, surprise flickering across her face. "Pregnant?"

"Yes." you confirmed. "And Finnick and I… we've had enough bloodshed. It's time for us to find peace. Back at 4. Because we both know that we can't do it here at the Capitol."

Katniss's lips trembled. "Take care of each other." she whispered. "And write to me. Tell me whatever you need."

"We will." Finnick promised, placing a hand on her shoulder as he spoke. "And Katniss, find your own peace too. You deserve it the most."

As the train pulled away, you glanced back at Katniss. She stood there, a lone figure, watching you both leave. The world outside blurred, and you clung to Finnick's hand, knowing that this journey was about more than survival, it was about reclaiming life, love, and hope.

Together, you and Finnick leaned against the window, watching the landscape rush by. The Capitol, the districts, and the scars of war faded into the distance. Ahead lay an uncertain future, but for the first time, it felt like freedom.

And as the train carried you away, you whispered to the wind.

"Peace, Katniss. May you find it too."

To that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the worst was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, we're burned for better

I vowed I would always be yours

'Cause we survived the Great War

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the coast. You sat on the weathered driftwood, your sundress billowing in the breeze. The waves crashed against the shore, a rhythmic lullaby that matched the beat of your heart.

Finnick was out there, his laughter carried by the wind. He chased their little daughter, her giggles like music. She had his sea-green eyes and your stubborn spirit. Her tiny feet left imprints in the wet sand, and you watched them both, the man you loved and the child you'd brought into this world.

His white shirt clung to his chest, the fabric darkened by saltwater. His light brown pants were soaked, but he didn't care. Finnick had always been at home in the sea, a merman with secrets hidden beneath his skin.

You traced the delicate band on your finger, the wedding ring. The day you'd vowed to be one with Finnick forever played in your mind. The sun had been just as golden then, and the waves had whispered promises. You'd said "I do" with the ocean as your witness, and it felt like the universe itself had blessed your union.

Beside you layed Katniss' letter. Her words echoed in your head, a mix of sorrow and hope. She'd lost so much, fought so hard. But now, finally, there was peace. Peeta was by her side, both of them were healing together. The Mockingjay had found her song and it was a bittersweet melody.

You closed your eyes, feeling the salt spray on your skin. The sea had witnessed your love, your pain, and your victories. It had taken so much from you, the Games, the rebellion, the scars etched into your soul. But it had also given you Finnick, your anchor in this tumultuous world.

As if sensing your thoughts, Finnick approached. His hair was tousled, his smile soft. He sat beside you, your daughter nestled in his arms. She clutched a seashell, her eyes wide with wonder.

"She's growing up so fast." you murmured, leaning into Finnick's warmth.

"Too fast." He kissed your temple.

You glanced at the horizon. The sun was a fiery ball, sinking into the water. "Katniss wrote that Peeta and her found peace."

"It's about time." Finnick nodded.

"We've all shed enough blood for an eternity, perhaps even more than that." You rested your head on his shoulder.

He intertwined his fingers with yours. "Maybe now we can heal."

The waves whispered their agreement. You looked at your daughter, at the man who'd become your heart.

"We'll find our peace too, won't we?"

Finnick pressed his lips to your forehead. "After everything… we deserve it."

And as the sea sang its ancient song, you knew that love, like the tides, would flow. But here, by the coast, with Finnick and your daughter, you found solace. The wedding ring glinted in the fading light, a promise etched in metal.

Katniss's words echoed once more:

"May you find peace."

And you believed that you finally had.

Uh-huh

I would always be yours

'Cause we survived the Great War

Uh-huh

I vowed I would always be yours

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aethes-bookshelf · 6 months

Text

empty eyes, emptier words || astarion/tav/halsin

I've been stuck in BG3 hell since the game first came out. I'm still in there. I don't think I'll be coming out anytime soon, so have this piece of angst. If everything goes well, maybe I'll deliver on some devil fucking (ft. Haarlep & Raphael). But that's a big IF.

For now, take this. I wrote it in class. I was supposed to be paying attention, but I made this instead. Bon appétit.

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, tav straight up fucking dies

Pairing: astarion/tav/halsin

Wordcount: 1.4k

Summary: Orin knew exactly who to take to hit those troublesome True Souls the hardest. Their leader was the obvious choice - a chicken can only run so far if you take its head. Tav would make a beautiful sacrifice for Bhaal.

And if anyone came to try and get them back? All the better. Blood will flow either way. And what a sight it'll be.

[I made some changes to Orin's dagger. Now, whoever gets killed with it can't be resurrected. Or can they?]

ao3 link || part 2

Orin turned around at the first sound of footsteps. She brandished her dagger, her Netherstone embedded in the cold metal of the weapon. She was standing on the sacrificial altar at the center of the temple. Beneath her laid Tav, arms and legs bound. They were unconscious, fresh and old wounds littering their body. The little clothing they wore stuck to their skin, wet with blood. The smell of it hit Astarion like a club to the head. He hated how his mouth instantly watered, hunger rearing its ugly head.

‘I don’t smell Gortash’s rot on you,’ Orin said, crouching by Tav’s body. She dragged her blade across their skin. Fresh blood bubbled to the surface. Tav didn’t even flinch. They were barely breathing.

‘Did it think it could trick me? Did it think it could save?’ Orin taunted, her dagger stopping right over Tav’s heart. Astarion could hear its faint beating.

The heat of Karlach’s anger burned the air around her. ‘I hope you’re not about to do what I think you are. For your sake.’ Her massive ax sliced through the pungent air, tail swishing behind her.

Halsin didn’t speak, but his eyes glowed bright gold. His hands were clenched at his sides, anger barely restrained.

Astarion unsheathed his own daggers, their weight a fleeting comfort. ‘You lay one more finger on them, I’ll rip your throat out,’ he said. A growl ripped itself out of his throat.

‘Your teeth aren’t sharp enough to pierce my throat,’ said Orin. The tip of her dagger sank into Tav’s chest. ‘Not enough to slice my flesh, taste my blood.’ She drew back her hand, dagger rising into the air. A speck of blood followed its tip.

Astarion clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt. His upper lip drew back; he bared his fangs on instinct.

‘Even if you kill them, all you’ll achieve is pissing us off,’ said Karlach. Her words were confident, but her voice betrayed her; she was afraid. ‘We’ll just bring them back so they can spit on your fucking corpse after I split you in half, you crazy bitch.’

None of them liked the way Orin laughed at those words. ‘“Bring them back”? Not here. Not with Bhall’s blessing.’ She grinned, showing all of her teeth. ‘They’ll be the first sacrifice of the night. Then I’ll spill your blood and guts on their flayed skin.’ A shiver ran through Orin as she brought her dagger down.

The blade sank into Tav’s chest with a sickening squelch. They gasped, body going rigid for just a second. Then they went limp.

Astarion’s scream rang through the still air as Karlach charged the altar.

* * *

Astarion knelt down by the bodies laying on the stairs and started rifling through their pockets.

‘What the hell are you doing, Fangs?’ asked Karlach. Tears were evaporating off of her face, her infernal engine still hot with her battle rage. The ashes of a used scroll of revivify were cooling at her feet. The spell's energy had already ran out and Tav was still limp, their body slowly going rigid.

‘I’m looting, can’t you tell?’ Astarion’s voice was snappy, but even. ‘Tav’s usually the one to take everything that’s not nailed down but they obviously can’t do it this time, can they?’

He leaned down over a pile of smoking bones and burned blood that used to be a man once. ‘They always find something for us in these piles of trash, I thought it’d be… nice to do the same for them for once.’ He managed to fish out a rusted dagger from underneath the pile.

‘Astarion,’ said Karlach, voice breaking.

‘Besides, their favorite tea ran out a few days ago, so we’re gonna need stuff to sell.’ He leaned over the pile of Orin’s gore next. ‘Tav spent most of our money on some new armor for you and Gale, and that tea’s expensive, you know?’ He took Orin’s dagger. His hands were shaking.

‘Astarion,’ Karlach tried again. The low hiss of evaporating tears got louder.

‘They deserve to drink something good when they come back, no?’ Astarion stood up straight. His grip on Orin’s dagger was so tight his chuckles went paper-white.

‘Astarion,’ Karlach’s voice was low and thick with tears, ‘I don’t think they’re coming ba—’

‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence.’ Astarion was quick to turn around and point the dagger at Karlach’s chest. ‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence.’ For the first time since they arrived at the temple, his voice broke. ‘Of course they’re coming back. Why do we keep that creepy skeleton around if not to bring us back in times like these?’

His eyes watered. ‘They’re coming back. They have to. They must. Even if that means I’ll have to drag them out of the Hells myself.’

Astarion’s eyes wandered to Tav’s broken corpse. They were still laying on the altar, the stone of it slick with their drying blood. He couldn’t see their face; Halsin’s shoulders were obstructing the view. Astarion could swear the druid was shaking too.

‘Halsin, they’re coming back, right? They’re coming back!’ If Astarion’s heart still beat, it’d be fluttering with rising panic.

Halsin’s voice was low and quiet. He kept stroking Tav’s matted hair as he spoke. ‘I’m not sure they will, my friend.’

Those words punched all air out of Astarion’s lungs. Fury replaced it.

‘Shut up!’ he screamed; his voice echoed in the empty temple. ‘We were supposed to have decades together. Decades! They can’t leave yet. They promised!’ His knees buckled. With every word he spoke, he sank lower and lower, until his knees hit the cold stone beneath him. ‘They promised we’d… We were supposed to find a way for me to be in the sun again,’ his voice faded into silence.

Astarion couldn’t speak anymore. His chest clenched and his eyes burned. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rage and kill, and tear. He wanted to bring Orin back just so he could send her to her blasted god all over again. He wanted to hear Tav laugh at one of his stupid jokes.

His throat was clenched so tight not even sobs could escape it. He was vaguely aware Halsin’s shoulders were openly shaking with his grief, but he couldn’t bring himself to comfort the druid. That would mean looking at Tav’s empty eyes. That would make this entire nightmare real. So very, terribly real.

Astarion’s grip on Orin’s dagger loosened; the weapon fell with a loud cling, its Netherstone slipping out of it. The stone shone dimly in the light of the torches.

All of it for these stones. All this death, pain and misery for these three pieces of one whole. Tav died for it.

Meaningless, meaningless, meaningless. All of it. All of it!

Astarion’s mind was reeling; jumping from pain to denial to anger to desperation. He didn’t know what to do. Tav would know, he thought, and a fresh wave of tears fell.

Karlach laid a hand on his shoulder. She’d cooled down enough for her touch to be only slightly painful on his corpse-cold skin. ‘We have to go, Fangs. Halsin.’ Her grip on Astarion tightened when he shook his head. ‘We have to go,’ she repeated, harsher this time. Barely restrained emotion shook her voice. ‘If they even can come back, we need to get them back to camp as soon as possible.’

Halsin took a deep breath and wiped his face with the back of his hand. ‘Karlach’s right,’ he said and stood up. Tav was limp as he cradled them close to his chest. To his heart. ‘If we stay here too long, we’ll certainly lose them for good.’ The druid squared his shoulders and turned to face the other two.

Astarion went rigid at the sight of Tav’s hand, limply hanging off the side of their body. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at their face.

‘Astarion,’ Halsin’s voice was soft, ‘I understand your pain. They are in my heart as they are in yours. But we mustn't waste time lest we lose them forever. If there is a chance to save them, we must act now.’

Astarion swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. The chill of death had never been more present in his bones. He nodded, silent, and picked up Orin’s dagger and Netherstone.

‘Let’s go,’ said Karlach, new-found determination on her face. ‘We still have to buy their favorite tea after this, right? How’d you put it, Fangs? “They deserve to drink something good after this”?’

Astarion nodded. He didn’t trust his voice not to break if he spoke. There was an empty, far-away look in his eyes.

As they left the temple of Bhaal, the sweet stench of blood followed them out.

#my writing #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #astarion x tav x halsin #angst #hurt/no comfort #major character death #x reader #gender neutral tav #ambiguous ending

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chaikachi · 9 months

Text

Little Red Riding Hood, The Big Bad Wolf, & The Silver Bullet

Aka I did an Oscar as The Little Prince analysis and now I wanna do one for Ruby's allusion in honour of the 10th Anniversary.

I know most if not all of us are familiar, but I'm still going to start with a summary.

Little Red is a story about a young girl in a red cloak who is sent into the woods at her mother's behest to bring baked goods to her sick grandmother. There, she meets a malicious wolf that asks her many questions, to which she answers all truthfully and without hesitation. The wolf takes this information and uses it to beat the girl to her destination where he then swallows her grandma whole and disguises himself in the woman's clothes. There he waits for the child to arrive and come closer so he can swallow her up too.

There are actually two popular versions of this story with different endings that we often look back to.

In Perrault's story, there is no happy ending. They're both eaten up, the wolf is content. The end. But in the Grimm version, there is an additional character... the Huntsman (aka the woodsman). He hears the wolf snoring after its meal and ends up cutting the beast open & saving the victims. Then, with the help of Little Red Riding Hood, he kills the wolf before it can do anymore harm.

All in all, it's a story about childhood innocence being lost, learning not to trust strangers, and being mindful to always follow the correct path. For if you stray too far, you may lose track of time, invite unwanted danger, or find yourself lost.

In RWBY, we have some very clear allusions here since it's the basis for so much of the show as a whole:

Little Red - Ruby Rose

The Mother - Summer Rose

The Grandmother - Maria

The Hunstman/Woodsman - All Three of Them

The Wolf - Salem and her Grimm (but ESPECIALLY The Hound)

They're all pretty self explanatory.

Ruby has the red cloak, her og trailer is clearly inspired by the tale, she loves baked goods, she's referred to as "Red" and "Little Red" by Torchwick & Cinder. She's also a huntress. And, by and large, her entire arc is about losing that childhood innocence and the view that life "is like a fairytale" as well as struggling with what the "right path" to follow is.

Summer is the mother (baker of cookies) and also the huntsman (slayer of giant monsters). The battle axe being her weapon choice alludes well to the alternate name, Woodsman, as well.

While Maria as the grandmother makes the most sense. Another silver eyed huntress that becomes a mentor figure for Ruby.

And while Salem, her war, & the Grimm (that are all emblematic of that loss of innocence) can absolutely symbolize the wolf... There's a reason why I want to focus on The Hound.

All three previous characters are connected by a very specific common denominator: Silver Eyes.

And the hound is no different.

Just another huntsman... but one devoured by the malice of a canine. And, if Ruby's theory is right, that's the same fate that Summer met as well.

And if you think about Silver Eyes specifically... What is one of the most famous lines from the original fairytale?

"My, what big eyes you have grandmother." "The better to see you with, my dear."

Which, when applied to the grimmification of SEWs, is HAUNTING.

Terrifying when you remember "Woah... you have silver eyes". Also thanks to Behind The Scenes content, that Ruby's hair design was always meant to "be a bit wolf-y". And that since Volume 4, Salem has been interested in capturing Ruby alive... I am WORRIED ABOUT HER.

Some interesting things about silver though that ARE worth noting...

1. "In folklore, a bullet cast from silver is often one of the few weapons that are effective against a werewolf or witch."

2. "The term silver bullet is also a metaphor for a simple, seemingly magical, solution to a difficult problem."

3. "In the Brothers Grimm fairy-tale of The Two Brothers, a bullet-proof witch is shot down by silver buttons, fired from a gun."

The lyric "Yeah I'm a girl but I'm also a gun" from Triumph really tells us point blank (lol) why Ruby is so important to this war against Salem, huh.

I'm gonna end this meta on a fun little easter egg; a hidden fifth character allusion to the original Red Riding Hood fairytale: The Woods.

Now I know what you're thinking, the woods aren't a person, they're a location. But they're INCREDIBLY important to the story.

Overall, the woods are the world outside of the cabin that Little Red grows up in. Whenever she travels beyond it, she's liable to meet all sorts of horrible tragedies and monsters. But I want to talk again specifically about The Hound & just where Ruby first meets them: Atlas.

Or, more specifically, Ironwood's kingdom.

For those unfamiliar, while Jimmy's main allusion is the Tin Man from Oz, his last name gives us a hint to another subtle allusion: Járnviðr. Aka the Iron Wood of Midgard in Norse Mythology (a mythos that's been alluded to a lot in RWBY).

Whiiich if you look at a stanza (40) in the infamous Völuspá, a historic poem which is chalk full of Norse myths, you get the following passage:

In the east sat an old woman in Iron-wood and nurtured there offspring of Fenrir a certain one of them in monstrous form will be the snatcher of the moon

A poem that talks all about the Biggest Baddest Wolf of the Norse pantheon, Fenrir... who is the offspring of a powerful Witch...

and is destined to eat the moon...

All within the Iron Wood, a character Ruby spends an entire volume contemplating on whether or not she can trust...

And the moment she does finally tell Ironwood the truth? The secrets she was keeping? The woods become unsafe, the witch and the wolf appear, and everything else falls apart. Resulting her and her team lost and very far from home.

Say what you want about analyses like these but CRWBY knows what they're doing, okay?

#rwby #ruby rose #rwby meta #analysis #rwby analysis #chainalysis #little red riding hood #did I wanna tie this into warrior in the woods to make it about rg? yes #was i able to? no #that'll have to be its own thing #greenlightvolume10 #long post

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ch0c0-cake · 2 years

Text

Catch

five hargreeves x gn!reader

requested by the most amazing @ells-graveyard <3

summary/request - can i request a little something where five and his s/o are fighting and the reader gets injured in battle but it goes unnoticed and they just kind of pull it off like nothing happened until it comes up later? (also as very squeamish person who can’t handle gore could that be a trait the reader has?) so when it finally is brought up bc they are clearly not okay five is like “?!!!?” and has to help them tend to it??

tysm for the request! you’re my fav to get asks from for sure ilyyyyy <33 (and im definitely gonna use this as a reference for when i get to this scene in Let Go)

warnings - cursing, killing, blood, gore, fainting, mention of vomit

“Y’know, that really isn’t my first choice of weapons.” You looked over to Five holding the axe in his hand, inspecting it with a look like it was gum on the bottom of your shoe.

“Good thing you aren’t using it then!” He hissed out, starting to walk off without you.

“Well you don’t have to be mean about it.” You pouted, following him down the hallway. You were from the Commission, like Five. You didn’t have any crazy powers like the others, but you’d be damned if you couldn’t kill anyone just as well.

Before Five came along, you were the best assassin on the force, making your kills quickly and quietly. You hated Five for a long time after he stole your title, but you kinda had to make ends meet when The Handler went and put you two together on a mission to kill quite a bunch of people.

Five Hargreeves was the first person to learn that the once greatest assassin on the force had a bit of a case of hemophobia. After the job had been done, he was just about to go back using the briefcase until he heard retching sounds from the other side of the room. After you were done puking, you promptly fainted and he had to bring you back to the Commission himself. Luckily he simply told a lie and said that you’d hit your head, figuring you didn’t want people to know you couldn’t handle a bit of blood.

The both of you came to an open doorway to see a long table with multiple people sitting on each side. At the very end of the table sat AJ. You’d met him a few times, you were gonna feel bad killing him.

He stood up and the others stared when the two of you entered the room. “You!” He seethed. “Call security!” He demanded as you pulled out your knife.

A woman pushed out her seat quickly and went to grab the phone, but Five took care of it and swung his axe down on her arm, neatly severing her forearm from the rest of her. Cries erupted from the room, and in a flash, Five was on the other side of the room and had murdered two men and left them laying against the wall.

“Five- ew!” You could feel your palms getting sweaty and your stomach almost churning at the sight. You tried to shake it off the best you could and jumped on the table, grabbing a man by his suit and pulling him towed you, then you quickly drove your knife into his neck. You didn’t let yourself see the blood start to drain and moved right on to the next person, effectively killing them. The screams of the board echoed throughout the whole room.

Five did most of the work very quickly, but you imagined he was more driven than you considering this was for his family. The both of you stood in front of AJ, who was cowering beneath the table. The little goldfish looked at the pair of you fearfully while you rested your arms on Five’s shoulder and smiled.

“She sent you, didn’t she?” AJ gasped, body trembling. “(Y/n)! How could you do this to a place that’s done so much for you?”

“Does it really matter now?” Five didn’t let you answer, tilting his head almost mockingly while you just shrugged and let him handle it. Five was kinda in a pissy mood, you wanted to let him blow off some steam.

“Whatever she offered you, I will double it, triple it!” AJ bargained, looking between the both of you.

“I’m not doing this for money.” Five was about to drive the axe into AJ’s glass head but was tackled. Your eyes widened and you watched him fall to the ground with an attendant that was not pleased Five wrecked the vending machine outside over a fuckin’ Fudge Nutter.

It was almost comical watching them both roll around on the ground, the lady screeching like a banshee about how he was gonna pay for the vending machine. You glanced to AJ.

“Don’t go anywhere, ‘kay?” You hopped off the table and watched with your knife as Five elbowed the woman. “Get AJ, I’ll handle her.”

“Fine.” He hissed, before looking back. This fucker was already gone.

“I told you to not go anywhere!” You shouted, watching as AJ fled the room. “Shit.”

Five looked around with slight panic and grabbed some kind of wooden paddle from the wall and took off.

A sudden tug on your leg pulled you to the ground, your nose making contact with the floor. You groaned as your knife skidded away toward the woman, and she just went ahead and grabbed it. She was about to try and kill you over a damn vending machine you didn’t even break!

“I didn’t break that stupid thing!” You snapped, rolling to the side as she plunged your knife down into the ground instead of your heart. You rolled away once more before you tackled her, pretty much wrestling with this stupid attendant who was treating one of your favorite knives like a toy. She thrust the blade toward you and you did a pretty good job at dodging. You grabbed the knife finally and stuck it in her chest.

“Goddamn.” You breathed, pulling the knife out and cleaning it on your suit. As you used your blazer, you suddenly realized where you had pulled the knife away from. A crimson stain was present in the side of your clothes, a rip in the shape of a hole going through your dress shirt…and flesh.

You had pulled the knife from your own body.

When had she stabbed you? Was the adrenaline too much to where it just overpowered your senses? That really didn’t matter, as the loud shattering of glass alerted you that Five had gotten AJ. The sound of footsteps was the next alert. Five was coming.

You quickly buttoned up your blazer and a very bloody Five walked into the room.

“You done? Come on before you vomit.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☂️~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well?” The Handler’s smooth voice came from behind you and Five. You stared at the ground, not even bothering to look at the woman, but you did see Five hand her AJ in a bag to her from the corner of your eye. She gasped in pure delight. “AJ!” She cackled, holding him up to her face. “You’re finally starting to fill out those tight little shorts of yours.” She hummed to Five. Although she got no response from Five or you.

All she got was a glare from you.

“Why so quiet, lovebirds?” She questioned, turning her gaze to you both. “I figured you’d be buzzing after this morning’s slaughter, especially you!” She held up a finger and tapped your nose. Still, no response from you, but Five did smack her arm away.

“Don’t touch them. And besides, all this killing…” Five grimaced and then looked to her. “I’m done with it.”

“What?” She pulled out a handkerchief.

“What I did today I did for my family and the love of my life. I did it to save the world.”

You were the love of his life? That was sweet.

“Oh please, spare me your little assassin with the heart of gold routine, will you? Even (Y/n) didn’t bother with any of that. Besides, the so-called love of your life doesn’t seem very joyful.” She gestured to you, and you still hadn’t said anything. You just stared and hugged yourself while she attempted wiping the blood off Five’s face. Five looked over and frowned but didn’t have time to say much as The Handler held out the suitcase. “Here. Per our agreement. This will get you two and your siblings back to 2019. You have 90 minutes.”

“90 minutes?” You voiced, eyes wide.

You could practically feel the scoff coming from Five as he walked after The Handler. “You said nothing about a time limit!”

“Actually,” she checked her wristwatch. “You have 89 minutes and 30 seconds. Better hurry.”

“This is impossible, okay?!” Five continued walking after her, you quickly following. “My siblings are scattered across the city!”

“Nothing’s impossible. You two lovebirds proved that this morning when you killed the board.”

“Look,” you coughed into your sleeve. “Two trained assassins killing a small group of people is not the same as playing Where’s Waldo with five people in a huge city! We need more time!”

“Any more time, and people will start asking questions. The sooner you get home and out of this time period, the better off we’ll all be.” She turned to face you and suddenly placed a hand on your shoulder and leaned toward to whisper in your ear so that Five couldn’t hear.

“Especially you. You better hurry before all that blood drains right out of you.”

“Get your hands off them!” Five ordered, and she did so.

“Tick tock, tick tock.” She smiled and walked off.

Five looked appalled, but he grabbed your hand and teleported off while The Handler’s words were imprinted like a burn in your mind.

You were suddenly where Elliott lived, and you about doubled over at the sight of the bloody writing on the ground.

ÖGA FÖR ÖGA

“Oh- come on.” You groaned, trying to ignore the burning pain in your side just a little longer. You held onto Five’s arm as he practically dragged you up the stairs.

“Don’t look.” He said briskly before he pulled off the cover on the figure on the chair at the top. You shut your eyes just in time, hearing Five’s soft whisper. “Damn.” You heard the ruffling of the sheet and you opened your eyes.

“Who?” You quietly asked.

“Elliott.”

“Shit.”

You made your way over to the voices coming from where the phone was. Luther and Diego stood there, Diego seething some threatening words into the phone.

“Are they…calling someone?” You whispered and face palmed as Five went over to them.

“Hey! It’s Öga För Öga, idiots.” Five rolled his eyes.

“What?”

“Swedish.” You added with a soft grunt, sitting down in a nearby chair. Maybe it would ease the pain of the hole in your side. “Eye for an eye.”

Five nodded in agreement. “Exactly right, my dear. It means the Swedes killed Elliott.” He explained, taking off his bloodstained blazer and sweater vest while Diego made some bullshit excuse and hung up. They started saying something more as Five left the room, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Yours ears were ringing, and your head was pounding. The world around you was spinning. Your side was burning like a wildfire.

“Hey!” A sudden tap on your shoulder pulled you out of if. Five stood above you, now in clean clothes. “We gotta go find Viktor. Luther’s getting Allison and Diego is getting Klaus. Come on.” He held out his hand for you to take.

“Right.” You cleared your throat, the flaming pain in your side only worsening as you stood up with Five’s help. Your legs gave out and you would have tumbled to the ground if Five hadn’t quickly caught you.

“Hey, woah. Careful.” He said with his eyes just a little wider than before. You weren’t usually a clumsy person. Your breath was caught in your throat, unable to respond to him.

His left hand had landed right on your wound.

“Is everything okay?” He lowered his voice. “You’ve been acting strange.”

You had to build up your voice to respond. “Y-Yeah…’m okay. Blood, y’know?” You lied. Five didn’t seem to buy it, but he let it go.

“If you say so. Let’s go.” He set you up straight and let go. He started heading down the stairs, his left hand on the rail. But then you noticed his eyes darting to some bits of red at his fingers.

“Huh. I thought I got everywhere.” He pulled his hand up to his face in order to inspect it, his breath hitching. His entire hand was stained with blood. Where he’d grabbed you.

He whipped around and saw you leaning against the railing at the top of the stairs. Your black blazer was no longer being pressed against your body by your arms. He could now see the large amount of blood that stained your shirt, a knife-sized hole where the blood was darkest. Your body trembled, trying to hide the wound even when you both knew it was pointless.

“That’s not good.” Five breathed, frozen.

“Oh, I’m…” your breathing was harsh and ragged. “I’m fine.”

“No, you are not fine.” He said cautiously, starting to walk back up the stairs.

“F-Five…I think I’m gonna…”

It was like your legs just gave up. Five watched as your eyes rolled back into your head before crumpling like a rag doll.

“Shit!!”

You slammed into the railing as you fell forward, attempting to catch yourself but only pushing yourself down the stairs. In a flash, Five was scrambling to catch you. You crashed into his arms, starting to send him down the stairs, however he teleported and sat on the ground with you instead.

“Shit, shit! Fuck!” Five’s words came out in panicked shouts, drawing back your blazer to inspect the stab wound. “You dumbass!” He exclaimed with wide eyes, even though you were no longer awake to hear him. He slid his hand under your neck to hold up your head and checked your pulse with his other hand. Faint, but it was there.

“Five?” Luther leaned over the banister from the top. “Oh shit-!”

“Get medical supplies now before I come up there and stab you myself!!” Five demanded, cradling your unconscious body tenderly. “Shit, sweetheart…” he whispered, pressing a hand to your wound as hard as he could. “Why didn’t you say something?” He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to yours.

Luther came back to the banister, holding up a plethora of supplies. “Is this enough?!”

“Yes, just throw it down! Don’t hit them!” Five snapped, catching the materials Luther threw down. Five carefully held you in his lap, sighing. “I’m sorry about this.” He quietly apologized, tenderly unbuttoning your dress shirt enough from the bottom to reveal the wound. He tried his hardest to prevent his hands from shaking as he began to clean the wound. Part of him was pretty pissed that he was forced to waste time, but he couldn’t let you bleed out or get any kind of infection.

“Hnn…F-Five..?” Your words were slurred together, eyes opening just a little. You instantly hissed in pain at the touch of your wound.

“Shh, hey, it’s okay.” Five rubbed your arm just a little. “Stay still.”

You tilted your head up and Five cursed when he saw your eyes widen at the sight of your wound. “O-Oh my god-! Five-!” Your voice came out panic-stricken and you started squirming, making this much more difficult for him.

“Hey!” He raised his voice to try and grab your attention. “Hey, listen to me! You need to stay still!” He said, but you only panicked more. He slipped his hand to the back of your neck and gently brought your head up. Without another word, he kissed you deeply. Just as he expected, you slowed down and stopped squirming.

Five took this opportunity and tried to look down to your injury the best he could while staying in the kiss. As soon as he started cleaning it again, your breathing increased and you began to shuffle.

“Hey, hey, no.” Five kept you close to him, looking back to your eyes. “I gotta tend to your wound, understand? That means you need to stay still, or it’ll just hurt more. That’s why you’re gonna focus on kissing me, alright? You’re gonna be just fine.”

You hesitated, but eventually complied with a nod and shakily pressed your lips to his.

“That’s it.” He said against your lips calmly, keeping his eyes open and treating the stab wound the best he could. It took quite a few minutes, but he was able to clean it up and wrap a bandage around it.

“There. Was that hard?” He asked after pulling away.

“Yes…” you muttered, glancing to the patched up wound.

“Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah…”

“Then what the hell were you thinking?!” Five exclaimed, grabbing your shoulders. “You should have told me right away before you just collapsed like that! Don’t you understand you could have died?! Don’t ever scare me like that again! Do you have any idea how mortifying it is to have to tend to your partner’s stab wound?!”

You stared at him with wide eyes, not expecting this burst of anger. “Five, I’m so-”

“You better be sorry!” He cut you off, and that’s when you realized he was quaking. He let out a sigh and brought you in for a hug. “You pull some shit like this again and I’ll kill you, understand?”

“I understand, Five.” You chuckled quietly, returning the hug and leaning on him.

“Good. Now let’s hustle! We gotta find Viktor and get the hell home!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☂️~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags 🏷 - @ay4kshalatus @vennythearsonist

#five hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #five hargreeves #gn reader #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #umbrella academy season 2

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toastandjamie · 6 months

Text

You know how in a previous post I talked briefly about how Mat is subversion of masculinity? Yeah that but now I’m also going to talk about how all of that and the contradicting nature of his character can all be traced back to him being Odin. Bare with me lmao.

So let’s start with the fact that Odin as a god covers a LOT of domains, and a lot of them contradict eachother. He’s a god of war and death but he’s also a god of healing and poetry. He’s a god of wisdom and knowledge but also frenzy and bloodlust. A god of royalty favored by princes and also a good of thieves and tricksters. The Allfather indeed! Odin is a god but very importantly he’s Mortal, he’s a god of wisdom because he seeks it out, he is a surprising Human god, with complex and often selfish motivations. Which is very perfect for a character like Mat. But this post isn’t just going to be me pointing out every single thing about Odin that parallels Mat because we’d be here all day and even though I can because everytime a mythological reference appears in those books and twirl my hair and kick my feet I will refrain lol

The main focus of this post is talk about one really interesting facet of Odin’s domains and myths. And that is his connection to magic, specifically the distinctly feminine magic tradition of Seihdr(and that in of itself is a whole thing that’s makes me scream and blather in reference to wheel of time). Odin stands out as a male practitioner of Seihdr, which is traditionally considered a ‘feminine’ craft. Seidhr is a type of magic related to telling and shaping the future(so no shock Odin as the ever curious god of knowledge practiced it) but according to Snorri in the Ynglinga saga the practice of Seidhr leaves the practitioner weak and helpless thus male practitioners were considered ‘ergi’ a designation for men in Norse society who were unmanly and feminine. Odin was no exception being called ‘ergi’ by Loki in Lokasenna.

This is really interesting when we view Mat’s characterization through this lens. Specifically he’s described in relation to other more traditionally masculine characters and his relationship to the one power specifically Saidar. Long before I did any research involving Seidhr and Odin I had noted to myself that Mat would’ve had an easier time channeling Saidar vs Saidine. I’ve always felt that Mat was better at embracing and submitting to power and change than he ever was at forcing it, which of course is mostly because of his adaptability and flexibility which make him such a great general in the first place. There’s a reason Mat never got a handle of the flame and the void despite both Rand and Lan trying to teach him in books 1 and 2. Mat also acts the most like the women in the series in comparison to say Rand or Perrin. jokingly I’ve mentioned how in Shadow Rising a big plot point in Rand and Elayne’s relationship is a miscommunication because Elayne was upset Rand didn’t ask her to stay when she left for Tanchico, and Mat practically has the same exact fight with Rand over Rand not asking HIM to stay when he said he was going to leave before the battle at Cairihan. I also want to point out that in the Wheel of Time, daggers and throwing knives are mainly used by women(see, Min, Faile, Berelain, Tuon) with Mat and Thom being the only men we see using throwing knives(something something the idea that subterfuge and caution are feminine traits) while swords and axes are mainly used by men or women specifically breaking gender convention such as Cha Faile and Elayne’s Queen’s Guard. interestingly spears(Mat’s other weapon of choice) is an androgynous weapon used by both men and women(this is solely because the entire Aiel culture uses spears and will fight with them), bows are also a relatively androgynous weapon in the context of WoT used pretty universally. There’s also something to be said about how the entire subplot with Tylin puts Mat in the role of the ‘pursued’ or as Mat himself puts it ‘the woman’ where Tylin takes the commanding and dominant role in their dynamic. There’s a whole different essay to be written about Mat’s romantic relationships and the vast power dynamic disparity in them and how the relationships with Tylin and Melindra primed him for the way his dynamic with Tuon works but once again that’s a different essay.

Mat’s relationship with the one power is also really interesting, because for a non-channeler he’s pretty heavily linked with magic. He’s effected by the magic inherent in the world despite for all intensive purposes being perfectly normal to start with. The Aelfinn and the Eelfin, the fact that he’s hunted by the Gholam who was created solely to assassinate channelers. Both of his sisters being born with the spark and him marrying a woman who was trained as a sul’dam(and in a prophetic vision said woman literally collaring him after we had just been introduced to the concept of a’dams). His medallion that negates channeling, the cursed dagger and him getting the first powerwrought weapon of the series in his Ashandarei. Mat’s practically rolling in magic nonsense despite wanting nothing to do with it. Not all of this was created by the one power, but he’s still very associated with it whether he wants to be or not. It’s also probably safe to say that between his sisters and being Ta’veren it’s likely he could probably learn to channel if he wanted to, of course he never would want to learn and as I established earlier I think he’d have a hard time channeling Saidine in the first place. Trying to wrestle a force of nature using brute force isn’t exactly his forte.

There’s also another essay about Mat and Elayne’s dynamic and how I think Elayne is a Freya parallel, and how that relates to Odin and Freya being the two patron gods of Seidhr- but I digress.

#wheel of time #mat cauthon #wheel of time spoilers #major wot book spoilers #minor wot book spoilers #wot meta #long post

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acre-of-wheat · 1 year

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Everyone ready for an unhinged theory about The Gales from Willow 2022?

So obviously they’re a dark mirror for our protagonists, and they function like a lot of teams of baddies in media-- they tie up each character in combat scenes by either having skills that subvert what the heroes are good at, or are simply just better at the same skills the heroes have.

Have a fast and dexterous fighter like Kit? Throw the Scourge at her and it overpowers anything she throws at it. Have a knight commander in full armor? Toss the Lich at him and have it bamf out of existence every time he swings his sword at it.

But I think there’s more to them than being battle foils for the characters. When Elora and Kit are hemmed in by the Gales and Airk, he tells them that the Gales are, “not what you think they are.”

So much of Willow has to do with the past, and choices, visions and alternate futures, recursions and cursed blood. I think that the Gales actually are our heroes, from a time when they gave into the Crone’s temptations.

Spoilers under the cut.

The Lich / Graydon Hastur

There’s a lot going on with Graydon.

First, his scar. I think it’s pretty obvious that there’s something magic going on here, and my guess is that it is a seal meant to prevent whatever possessed Graydon in the first place from popping out again.

I’m going to hazard a guess that whatever is still inside him is where his magic comes from. Magic apparently comes in several colors, but it does seem to at least partially relate to who is casting it, and what the spell is.

Willow and Elora’s natural colors are green, which you can see in the training montages and in Elora’s battle with the crone. Red appears to be pretty obviously bad.

Something happens to Elora’s magic color when she casts a Nekotic spell the Crone taught her though. The color turns darker, and goes blue.

Graydon’s “natural” spell color seems to be purple, and it doesn’t change based on what he casts, even when he fights the Crone and uses a spell that sounds very Nekotic.

I think it’s only a matter of time before the influence of the Wyrm makes Graydon’s spell work go fully red.

I also think his scar/seal is spreading. During the trek across the shattered sea, Graydon begins to learn magic. We know from Willow that magic takes a toll on the body, and we see that a bit with Graydon during a conversation with Elora.

She tells him not to scratch at something, and Graydon pulls his shirt aside to look, very carefully not revealing what it is. It’s worth noting that this is not on the side that he was injured on, so it’s not that “acting up.” Instead, I think it’s the seal spreading as he uses more and more magic, thinning the line between him and whatever possessed him.

If the scar continues to spread, perhaps Graydon might come to look like the Lich that we know-- covered completely in scar tissue.

The Doom / Jade Claymore

This is the one that initially got the gears turning, and all because of the weapons involved.

Throwing stars are only used by two characters in the show, and it seems like such an odd choice. Not daggers, axes, or javelins, but throwing stars. The Bone Reavers and the Tir Asleen knights don’t seem to use them, so they’re not a cultural practice that Jade might be familiar with. They aren’t used in the original movie either. Jade uses them once in battle, and then once during a training scene which doesn’t seem to have any story significance other than to remind us that she has them.

The only other character to use such a distinctive weapon is the Doom, when attacking the silt sleigh.

Because we’re talking about weapons, it’s worth noting that the Doom dual wields metal whips. Until the last episode, the only one of our heroes to dual wield her weapons is Jade, when she uncouples her sword from its staff/sheath

Speaking of distinctive, the Doom’s dark metal face plate is pretty unique, but we do know another character who wears a face mask into battle-- a battle that took some of Jade’s innocence with it.

I also really like the symbolism of the Doom’s first fight being with Kit and Sorsha, the very people Jade is most adamant about protecting.

The Dag / Kit Tanthalos

This one feels like a fairy-tale curse. What does Kit’s dream mother offer her? Freedom, a chance to go wherever she wants. In the usual wicked twist of irony, why not make that freedom both symbolic and literal by transforming her into a bird creature? Rootless, homeless, chasing after who she used to be and the girl she used to love.

The Scourge / Thraxus Boorman

This one doesn’t have much to go on-- they’re both tall, beefy dudes? The only thing that might be symbolic is that we know Boorman would rather jump off the edge of the world than have an intimate conversation-- what better way to avoid intimacy than to have a spiked cage around your head?

#willow #kit tanthalos #jade claymore #elora danan #graydon hastur #thraxus boorman #willow spoilers #willow 2022

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madara-fate · 1 year

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I guess Kishi is fond of the idea of Sakura with large battle axes. I did always feel that if she were to ever use a weapon in combat, a large battle axe (or two) would be her choice, and I guess Kishi agrees.

#Sakura Haruno

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died-of-feels · 8 months

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My Httyd Next Gens Pt. 1

Name: Oswald

Eye color: Green

Dragon: Eruptodon (doesn't ride)

Age: 23

Parents: Dagur and Mala

Weapon of Choice: Sword

Relationship status: Just married to Solvig

Occupation: Eruptodon protector

Personality: Quiet and tends to keep to himself and stay out of people's way and problems. Likes to tease his younger siblings especially Baldur about Zephyr.

Misc: He made a vow to never ride a dragon again after he gave up his position as first in line for the throne to devote all his time to the eruptodon effectively passing the throne to his younger sister Eula.

Name: Solvig

Eye color: Green

Dragon: Eruptodon (doesn't ride)

Age: 22

Parents: Throk and Atali

Weapon of Choice: Katana

Relationship status: Just married to Oswald

Occupation: Eruptodon protector

Personality: She is very friendly and always willing to help those around her. She is just as courageous as both her parents and is quick on her feet.

Misc: She just like her father has always had a strong connection with the eruptodon and vowed to always protect it. Also made a vow to never ride a dragon once she became the protector.

Name: Eula

Eye color: Green

Dragon: Baby Razorwhips

Age: 20

Parents: Dagur and Mala

Weapon of Choice: Wingmaiden spear

Relationship status: Single

Occupation: Wingmaiden

Personality: She is very well spoken and a great debater. She prefers to be off of the island she grew up on but makes sure to visit her family as often as possible.

Misc: She was always so fascinated and amazed by Atali’s story of being a Wingmaiden that when she was old enough she decided to pass her claim to the throne of Defenders of the wing to her younger brother Baldur and become a Wingmaiden herself.

Name: Baldur

Eye color: Green

Dragon: Skrill named Bolt

Age: 18

Parents: Dagur and Mala

Weapon of Choice: Long sword

Relationship status: Dating Zephyr

Occupation: Dragon rider

Personality: He tends to get very fixated on certain things and start to disregard the things happening around him. He is also very stubborn and will treat people the very same way that they treat him

Misc: He is currently first in line for the throne of the Defenders of the Wing and has no plans to give it up. He has every intention of marrying Zephyr and making her Queen of the Defenders of the Wing.

Name: Ericka

Eye color: Blue

Dragon: Changewing named Novax

Age:18

Parents: Eret and OC named Greta

Weapon of Choice: Spear

Relationship status: Single

Occupation: Dragon rider

Personality: She inherited her father’s fierce loyalty but is very naturally aggressive like her mother. She is a very skilled warrior and plans to one day join the Berkian Guard

Misc: She loves to cook and make her friends treats to cheer them up when they are sad so now she knows what all the riders favorite sweets are and can bribe them into doing patrol or other chores. Her best friend is Zephyr.

Name: Zephyr

Eye color: Blue

Dragon: Nightlight named Dart

Age: 18

Parents: Hiccup and Astrid

Weapon of Choice: Sword and Battle axe

Relationship status: Dating Baldur

Occupation: Dragon rider leader

Personality: She has a very similar personality as in Homecoming just more mature and willing to listen to what the older vikings are trying to tell her before jumping to conclusions. She is also the most knowledgeable about dragons out of all the children and is willing to do whatever it takes to protect them to the point of often having to be dragged away by her friends for her own safety or even Dart refusing to cooperate with her anymore

Misc: She enjoys reading the book of dragons and training with her mother. She also got her father's ability to create useful inventions. Her best friend is Ericka

Name: Nuffink

Eye color: Green

Dragon: Nightlight named Pouncer

Age: 15

Parents: Hiccup and Astrid

Weapon of Choice: Battle axe

Relationship status: Dating Thyra

Occupation: Dragon rider

Personality: Very similar to his personality in Homecoming but more mature. He is still very rambunctious and likes to try all of his father’s aerial tricks that he was told about as a young kid. His favorite pastimes are flying with Pouncer and annoying Zephyr.

Misc: With the very real possibility of his sister marrying Baldur he is most likely to become the next chief of Berk.

Name: Thyra

Eye color: Purplish Blue

Dragon: Monstrous Nightmare named Ember

Age: 15

Parents: Snotlout and Ruffnut

Weapon of Choice: War hammer

Relationship status: Dating Nuffink

Occupation:Dragon rider

Personality: Thyra is very confident in her abilities and is willing to spar with anyone who offers. Unlike her dad she isn't afraid to not take first (breaking generational trauma from snotlout). She tends to spoil her dragon and treat her as the most important living thing in the world.

Misc: She is the most competitive of all the children and likes to follow Hiccup around and annoy him until he is quite literally just chasing her away.

Name: Tove

Eye color: Purplish Blue

Dragon: Deadly Nadder named Attor

Age: 15

Parents: Snotlout and Ruffnut

Weapon of Choice: Spear

Relationship status: Flirty with Skjor

Occupation: Dragon rider

Personality: She is extremely girly and likes to focus on how she looks over fighting the other kids. She wants to be a healer like her mother (yes I headcanon Ruff as the healer after Gothi)

Misc: She and Attor like to look in the reflection of shields to preen. She tends to get distracted while fixing her hair or grooming her dragon and will miss important details in a conversation. She is still very useful in a battle and will take down enemies in style. She and Astrid have bonded over having Nadders and she has learned a few tricks from her.

Name: Skjor

Eye color: Blue

Dragon: Razorwhip named Wingnut

Age: 15

Parents: Fishlegs and Heather

Weapon of Choice: Double ended axe

Relationship status: Likes Tove

Occupation: Dragon rider

Personality: Skjor is the perfect mix of both his parents with his father’s love of learning and dragons and his mother's survival instincts. He loves adventure and journaling.

Misc: He met Wingnut when he got stuck on a random island and used the survival skills his mother taught him. First in line to be chief of Berserker Island.

Name: Vivika

Eye color: Green

Dragon: Triple Stryke named Suvi

Age: 14

Parents: Dagur and Mala

Weapon of Choice: Sword and Blow darts

Relationship status: Single

Occupation: Dragon rider

Personality: Vivika is the most patient out of all the children and always willing to hear a multitude of answers to one problem. She is the peacekeeper between her siblings and on the island.

Misc: She enjoys sitting under the shade of the trees with Suvi to read and be away from her responsibilities for awhile. She really looks up to her aunt Heather.

Name: Lagertha

Eye color: Green

Dragon: Gronckle named Lapis

Age: 14

Parents: Dagur and Mala

Weapon of Choice: Battle axe

Relationship status: Single

Occupation: Dragon rider

Personality: Lagertha is a born warrior that is always ready to take on anyone and anything that will try to pick a fight with her. She likes to boss people around and get the island people to do tasks for her.

Misc: She likes to get up with the sunrise and fly around the island with her dad. Her favorite pastime is whittling long sticks into spears.

Name: Noma

Eye color: Blue

Dragon: Hideous Zippleback (Gas) named Calothosk

Age: 10

Parents: Tuffnut and OC named Friva

Weapon of Choice: Mace

Relationship status: Single

Occupation: Jr. Dragon rider

Personality: Noma is a free spirit who usually does whatever sounds fun. She is curious of the world around her and can often be found taking a walk around the island. She and her cousin Leahlout are attached at the hip and if they aren't doing their own thing they are always together.

Misc: She likes to help her father in the forge (I headcanon that Tuff begins to help Gobber in the forge now that Hiccup is to busy as chief) or helping her mother cook and bake in the great hall.

Name: Leahlout

Eye color: Blue

Dragon: Hideous Zippleback (Spark) named Thevren

Age: 10

Parents: Snotlout and Ruffnut

Weapon of Choice: Daggers

Relationship status: Single

Occupation: Jr. Dragon rider

Personality: She is the most calm out of all her siblings but still enjoys causing a ruckus on the island especially for Gobber and Spitelout.

Misc: She likes to follow her dad around while he is training the Berkian guard (I headcanon that Snotlout is the captain of the Berkian guard) and likes to train with them herself.

Name: Bjorn

Eye color: Green

Dragon: Gronkle named Fishmeat

Age: 9

Parents: Fishlegs and Heather

Weapon of Choice: Bow and Arrow

Relationship status: Single

Occupation: Jr. Dragon rider

Personality: He is sweet and gentle much like his father but tends to make up his mind and become fixated on his decision and refuses to listen when people try to tell him the opposite.

Misc: Bjorn is a pacifist so he prefers to find nonviolent solutions to problems and stay out of fights for as long as possible until a dragon or someone else is in serious danger of being badly hurt.

Name: Ingrid

Eye color: Green

Dragon: None yet

Age: 5

Parents: Fishlegs and Heather

Weapon of Choice: Teeth

Relationship status: Single

Occupation: Baby

Personality: Ingrid likes to act sweet and innocent especially around her parents (they know she’s not) but she is a feral child and will bite when she feels like it.

Misc: The first person she bit was Dagur. Her other targets include Hiccup, Snotlout, Skjor, and strangely Astrid

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fanstuffrantings · 3 months

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Alright I've watched the whole season so I'm going to mention things I did and didn't like about Hazbin hotel

Likes

I've never been the biggest angel dust fan but I enjoyed how he was handled. I think the decision to have him bond with husk and husk just be able to see through everyone's facades was smart

Husk and mimzy were always my favorite designs from way back when and after the pilot I really wanted to see more of husk since he had no screen time so I enjoyed his plot. Hope season 2 gives us more of his backstory as an overlord.

I liked mimzy's inclusion, wish she stayed longer but I understand why she didn't.

The overlords and their disputes were a lot of fun, vox vs Alastor was something that kept me wanting to watch. Very interested to see where alastor goes.

Nifty consistently had some of the funniest lines to me. I feel like they balanced her screen time well.

Vaggie and Charlie were cute in the screentime they got together

The music was great.

The decision in the rewrite to make Vaggie fully nonhuman was smart. I remember Viv originally had her being from the 80s but the choice of making her an angel who fell I did like a lot.

Sir pentious was a fun addition.

Those bits of Alastor's true demon form coming out were amazing. Favorite animation moments.

Generally I enjoyed the show for what it was. I can name more but just know largely I liked a lot of it. Way more than I expected.

Dislikes

I didn't really care for Adam. Not an "oh he's horrible I hate him" more that I just didn't find him to be a compelling antagonist.

I don't understand why all the angels were so shocked their weapons could harm each other when they seemed to be aware of it when vaggie got her eye gouged. I feel like they could've written that plot point better (like they're aware but just keep the knowledge hidden and make sure no angelic metal makes it to hell, like why does Adam seem more annoyed than shocked when he finds a dead angel.)

Sir Pentious death feels like it happened too soon. It didn't hit as hard as someone like Husk, Angel, or Vaggie's would have because we just didn't get as much time with him as most of the cast. I don't even remember them focusing on his backstory at all (I'm aware he's been redeemed and will return, but for those moments of thinking he was dead it just didn't feel as impactful as it could've)

I wish for characters like Alastor they'd leaned into making their costumes look more like the times they were from. His hair and his coat feel so modern.

I wish they'd had more episodes for character development/time. 6 months happening over an 8 episode period is too fast. Especially because (again) they killed off a hotel character.

Continuing the previous point, more episodes could've introduced us to more characters like Cherrybomb. Characters who know the main cast but opt not to stay in the hotel. So that the final battle would've felt a bit bigger/more tense with a bunch of characters we know on the line.

This one is more personal preference: I wish they'd gone more horrific with true forms. Charlie is fully not human, give us a beastial form for her.

People have mentioned it before, but they really should've axed Alastor's connection to Voodoo in the rewrite.

I once again want to say: largely I enjoyed the show. I went into it as a person who was a massive fan of vivziepop between 2015-2017. I wasn't the biggest fan of the humor in Helluva boss but liked the hazbin crew so I wanted to give it a shot and it was so much better than I expected. I just had some parts I didn't personally like.

#hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #if theres a critical tag let me know and ill edit my tags!#molten rambles

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minecraftbookshelf · 1 year

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Weapons of Choice

@justanaveragelizardperson has spoken! (Thank you so much, not being able to decide was driving me up the wall)

We'll hit this in alphabetical order, my headcanons for these are a combination of canon inspiration and pure, world-building results. Also this is not 100% accurate to how swords especially work in real life, this is a fantasy genre story and we embrace the "But It Looks Cool" here.

Fwip: His preferred weapons are potions and explosions, he always has a fireworks crossbow to hand. As far as bladed weapons go he has a long dagger that doubles for chopping potions ingredients when he doesn't have his actual tools to hand.

Gem: Primarily uses her staff in combat, but if the occasion calls for it will just haul back and punch her opponent in the face. Is scrappy and level-headed, which is a dangerous combination.

Joey: Primarily fights with a smallsword when he has to fight but is the least martially minded of the rulers. Keeps totems of undying on him at all times.

Katherine: Her sword is a light-weight saber, her fighting style relies on her being light and quick on both her feet and her wings. She can also call the Overgrown to defend her and itself if the occasion calls for it.

LDShadowLady: Fights with a trident. She has a sword but doesn't really use it. The trident is the traditional weapon of the Oceanic royalty, thus both hers and Jimmy's. Will also sic axolotls on her enemies without hesitation.

Mythical J. Sausage: The Blood Sword is a zweihänder. He also carries a short sword to wield with a shield. His grip is half-open, giving a bit less flexibility but greater power to his blows. He acquires his sorcerers staff at one point and then favors that about equal with the Blood Sword.

PearlescentMoon: Equally proficient with her sword, axe, and scythe, as well as hand to hand. Is also skilled with the bow but prefers close combat methods. Her sword is a longsword that she wields both two handed and with a shield. She has a very rooted fighting style, her footwork is minimal, but when she does go more mobile she is very well balanced. She relies somewhat on her ability to tank hits, which serves her well, as her endurance is incredibly high, as demonstrated by her ability to go toe-to-toe with semi-immortal beings on a regular basis and hold her own. Shes very adept at using her elytra in combat, to the point that multiple rulers with natural wings have commented on her flight proficiency.

Pixlriffs: His preferred weapon is a Channeling Trident, his second choice is his basket-hilted sword (a schiavona) or recurve bow.

Shrub Berry: Joey gifted them a smallsword which for her functions as a broadsword. She's relatively new to combat but is proficient with a hatchet and a recurve bow. Their greatest weapon is the wolf pack.

Smajor: (There is no war rune blade in Ba Sing Se.) We're sticking with the LotR aesthetic for weapons as well, so that is what his sword looks like (A long-sword after the style of those used by the Lorien forces at Helm's Deep in the films) Also proficient with a longbow. At the time of the story beginning is not even close to considering using his ice magic in combat.

SmallishBeans: Equally favors a Mezalean shortsword (based off a xiphos) and a battle axe. He does have a trident and is fairly proficient with it but prefers to use it for travel rather than combat.

Solidarity: The Codfather Sword is a two-handed sword, closest to a claymore, he wields it with an open grip. (Which allows for more flexibility and control of the blade but the strikes are less powerful) When he's in Fish Mode it is more of a bastard/hand-and-a-half sword. He also uses a trident, mostly for aquatic combat.

Xornoth: Two swords. Has never willingly used a shield in their life and isn't about to start now. Is either dual wielding elvish-style short swords or has a full-size battle axe. Will sometimes throw fire and lava but tends to be cautious with it.

AU Masterpost

#rain rambles #i have lots of thoughts about pearl for this apparently #pearlescentmoon #literally everyone #empires smp #empires s1 #marriage of state au #mos: worldbuilding #mos: ensemble

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drill-teeth-art · 1 year

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Now that I’m thinking about it, what are Rewind and Eject like in your continuity? Outside of power.

Cassette question yay!

So the dueler cassettes of the Autobot team Rewind and Eject almost couldn't be more different. Eject is competitive, scrappy, and loud, while Rewind is soft spoken, friendly, and gentle.

Eject is what Cybertronians think of when they think of a dueler cassette. A cassette who charges into battle, skilled with his weapon of choice (an axe for him), and not afraid to take the fight to other tapes. He often gets into scuffles with Frenzy who consistently bests him, and he refuses to be satisfied with the losses. The only thing more important to him than his quest to be the best is his carrier Blaster and the other cassettes in his mix. Who pretty much all think he needs some hobbies or something, but he's often too stubborn to heed that advice.

And then there's Rewind. Quiet, creative, compassionate Rewind. He doesn't like to fight. His weapon of choice is a shield he uses to keep his team safe rather than charge into the fray. He's not super fond of his combative powers and much prefers indulging in expressive and creative pursuits over being on the battlefield. He is very shy though and finds it hard to voice his own wants and connect with others. At some point, he discovers Enemy's passion for fashion, makeup, and self expression. And when she saves him from a collapsing, old building, he falls head over heels for her. But he just doesn't know how to be bold enough to say it to her or anyone!

Perhaps, the two could learn something from each other...

Thank you for asking!

#ask #transformers #transformers fanart #maccadam #rewind #eject #enemy #frenzy #cassetticons #autobots #decepticons #transformers fan continuity #cassette siren headcanon

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timptoe · 1 year

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What Bards Sing About

Welp, the Dragon Age: Absolution brainrot set in and this fell out of me. So enjoy some absolute fluff about my new favorite Dragon Age pairing: four times Lacklon notices Roland and blames it on his legs. Read it on Ao3.

----

His legs are too long.

Lacklon grumbles to himself as he clambers over the fallen log in the middle of the path. Already this job is too much trouble. This is not gonna be the type of job that gets you mentioned in a verse in a bard’s epic tale. That’s reserved for the Lords of Fortune who find exceptional treasure, or battle dastardly villains, or defeat hordes of hideous monsters. They write songs about jobs that have the right balance of danger and beauty and—most of all—success.

But this job’s just a right piece of nugshit.

Start with the fact that they’re being led by an elf who clearly doesn’t want to be here. Definitely a good choice, giving the girl who wants out the job of finding a way in. Not to mention, she’s obviously a runaway slave who’s gonna turn tail and book it as soon as it really hits her where they’re going. Excellent first move. Dumbasses.

Then you’ve got the two mages. On the one hand, you’ve got the qunari—super popular in Tevinter, so definitely not gonna be a problem there. Definitely gonna be easy to stay out of sight with a seven foot tall horned woman who specializes in making explosions. Definitely. And on the other hand, you’ve got the nice one.

Nice people always have a hidden agenda.

Not to mention the two Orlesians. Ugh, Orlesians. So concerned about which fork to use at dinner they can’t see that everyone at dinner’s an asshole. Take Fairbanks. Too easy-going to be the guy who’s funding this, so of course he’s not, he’s representing the fucking Inquisition. Because that’s not a mountain’s worth of pressure right there. The best patrons, in Lacklon’s experience, are the anonymous ones who stay home and stay out of his way. How’s he gonna do his thing with the goddamn keeper of the coin who reports to the Herald of fucking Andraste breathing down his neck? Plus—and he can’t emphasize this enough—Fairbanks is the one who put the runaway slave at the front of the line. Nugshit for brains. And as for Roland…

Well. Roland’s legs are too long.

Said warrior takes this moment to turn around, eyebrow arched and an easygoing grin playing across his lips. The sunlight through the leaves of the forest dapples his dark skin in golden light, reminiscent of the shine on his buckler and breastplate. The purple of his doublet complements his emerald-green eyes perfectly, and the crows-feet at the corners of his eyes give hint to that echoing, honey-accented laugh.

“All right back there?”

Lacklon blinks. When did he stop walking?

He grimaces and pushes past Roland, ignoring the heat on his cheeks, muttering, “Everything about this is a mistake.” Roland just grins and hums.

Anyway, his legs are too long.

—

His legs are so long.

Lacklon rolls to the side as Roland’s blade hits the space he’d just occupied. He plants the end of his axe in the ground, using the momentum from his roll and the leverage from his weapon to spring back to his feet. He swings the haft of the axe up just in time to block Roland’s next slice.

It’s not that the Orlesian is faster than him. Lacklon’s pretty damn fast—you have to be, to be a Lord of Fortune. Well, a good one at least. Never know what kind of traps or guards or monsters’ teeth you’re going to have to speed past to get that sweet, sweet loot. And Lacklon’s really good at what he does. Not good enough yet to get in one of the songs yet, but good enough to still be alive. No, it’s not that Roland is faster than him.

It’s that he can cover the distance Lacklon moves in half the time because his legs are so damn long.

Lacklon shoves Roland backward, giving him space to rear back with his axe and come down in a great cleave aimed at Roland’s pauldron. Or rather, where his pauldron had been, except he’s pivoted on those long goddamn legs in a beautiful circle to bring his buckler up, smashing Lacklon’s axe to the side and pointing the tip of his sword at Lacklon’s throat.

Lacklon wastes no time, carrying the momentum from his parried axe around in a circle to knock the sword away, giving him the perfect opening to headbutt Roland in the stomach. Roland dances backwards, grinning before pivoting his weight on those long legs to spring back forward. They lock weapons briefly.

And then Roland fucking winks at him.

Locklon’s eyes narrow as his heart races—from the exertion of the sparring session, sure—and he spits out, “If you’re trying to distract me, it won’t work.”

Ancestors’ tits, that man’s eyes are piercing.

“Besides,” he grunts, pushing the taller man’s sword back, “your girlfriend’s still gotta find a way into the palace.”

For the first time since they met, he sees a look other than of charming joy or beautiful determination cross Roland’s face. It’s hard to name, exactly. Surprise? Befuddlement? Whatever it is, it parts his full lips in a—

Nevermind, it only lasts a second anyway. Long enough for Lacklon to push him completely off his axe. Long enough for Roland to recompose his features, his eyebrow shooting up and those lips twisting into the most cocky grin Lacklon’s ever seen. He says, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

He strides on those long legs back across the courtyard to get a drink of water, as Lacklon wonders what the look on his own face says.

Probably just oh.

—

His legs are very long.

That’s the immediate thought that Lacklon’s brain spits out. Maybe it’s because he’s tired from fighting so many damn zombies. Maybe it’s the toothy grin on Roland’s face that’s taken his damn breath away. Maybe it’s the headrush from being suddenly bent backward over Roland’s knee in a perfect dip that even the most ardent dance instructor would probably call “a bit much.”

Because that’s where Lacklon is at the moment. Swept off his goddamn feet like the belle of the fucking ball over Roland’s perfect leg and Ancestors burn in their tombs if he doesn’t love it just a little bit.

Whatever the reason, all his poor addled brain can focus on during this frozen moment in time is that, in order for Roland’s beautiful face to be just the right height above his own, for Roland’s strong arms to be wrapped around his body in just the right way to support his weight, for Roland’s knee to be nestled in the small of his back just so, then Roland’s legs must be very long.

His second thought is, This is the kind of thing bards write songs about.

The warrior leans down ever-so-slightly, one hand adjusting its position behind Lacklon’s back. Lacklon’s breath quickens as Roland’s eyebrow arches, matching his mischievous grin. His weathered skin stretches around the look of impish glee, at odds with their dire situation but perfectly suited for his features. It’s beautiful.

He’s beautiful.

“Rolls,” Lacklon says breathlessly as his brain whirls, his axe forgotten at his side, “w-what are you doing?” Never in his whole goddamn life has he ever stuttered like that, but he can’t find it within him to care.

Because he never wants to stop looking at Roland’s face.

Roland’s grin stretches wider as he responds in that honey-soaked accent, “Improvising.”

Before Lacklon can parse the meaning of that word, Roland scoops Lacklon around his body, his knee pushing up and his arms twisting in one fluid motion as he stands Lacklon up and rips the bag of grenades off of Lacklon’s hip and throws the whole goddamn bag of grenades at the zombie horde.

Lacklon looks on in horror, yelling “No!” while the bag sails through the air. Roland pulls him in the opposite direction, the whole hallway going up in a multicolored conflagration of light and fire and smoke. The force of it pushes the two of them into the air, and Lacklon lands on his back, Roland on top of him. Protecting him.

It lasts for a heartbeat. It lasts for forever.

All too soon, Roland rolls off of him. And immediately collapses into laughter. Lacklon takes half a moment to just lay on his back, his heart pounding in his ears. This is the weirdest fucking job.

He sits up, watching Roland continue to giggle into his hand. Lacklon grasps at what to do, what to say. Thank you for saving me. Or, I love the way you laugh. Or, your legs are very long.

What comes out of his mouth is, “You had to use the whole damn bag?”

Eh. This is why other people write the songs.

—

His legs are nicely long.

Okay, fine. Ancestors’ beards but Roland is a damn good looking man. For a human. From Orlais.

Okay, for any species from anywhere whatever.

Lacklon knew from the beginning this job was gonna be too much trouble. And guess what? He was right. There’s a mad magister and an animated corpse and a fucking dragon just on the other side of that wall, with his friend in their clutches. But as he looks at tall-dark-and-handsome over there, he thinks, Maybe trouble isn’t so bad.

Because if he’s gonna be in trouble, Roland’s the guy he wants to be in it with.

Start with the fact that he’s a damn good fighter. Not a lot of people in the guild can keep up with Lacklon swing for swing—hell, not a lot of people outside the guild can keep up with him—but Roland definitely can and then some. Fairbanks wanted them to be in synch and they more than delivered. Lacklon’s never fought side-by-side with someone who knows exactly where he’ll be before he gets there, who can take out the shambling corpse on his blind side while he focuses on the four in front of him, who fights like he knows how to dance.

He’s a damn good planner, too. Even now, with Miriam in the maw of hell and the three of them out of options, Roland’s somehow come up with an actual plan to rescue her. A plan that might even work, that fully utilizes all of their skills, including the seven foot tall horned woman who specializes in making explosions.

And he’s fucking beautiful on top of everything else. The way his lips, even now in the middle of planning for an impossible rescue, carry the hint of a smile on them. The way his ‘locs cascade over his shoulders, framing his face like a portrait in a museum. The way his eyes sparkle like gems in a vault just waiting to be discovered. The way his legs—his very nice, very long legs—tuck underneath him as he sits on the ground. Lacklon has never seen anyone who carries themselves with Roland’s particular combination of grace and elegance and kick-ass confidence.

Fuck it. He’s gonna do it. Don’t think about it just do it.

Roland’s in the middle of capping off the plan by telling Qwydion, “Just make sure you wait for my signal, and—“ when Lacklon pulls him down into a rough kiss.

It’s quick, fast like Locklan’s fast. He doesn’t waste time, just pulls Roland’s full lips into his and oh Ancestors it’s amazing. Maybe a little stilted. Roland clearly wasn’t expecting it, so he’s a little stiff. But still, worth it.

He lets Roland’s neck go and leans back. Okay. Okay, that was good. Great, time to move on, now he can ju—

Roland grins and swoops back in. This time, there’s no stiffness. He melts into Lacklon’s lips, bringing one gloved hand up to cup Lacklon’s cheek. His caress feels like protection and strength and the strumming of a lute at the beginning of a song.

He tastes like sunshine.

Lacklon kisses him back, tentatively. This isn’t his first kiss, not by a long shot, but something about this is…new. Exceptional. The right balance of danger and beauty and success.

Wonderful.

All too soon, Roland pulls back, smiling. Lacklon starts to get lost in that smile before he spies Qwydion out of the corner of his eye. She looks absolutely gobsmacked, and he realizes that he just kissed his friend while a fucking dragon is waiting outside. Suddenly embarrassed, he huffs and says, “What?” When she just continues to stare, he mutters, “This is the dumbest plan I’ve ever heard. We’re all gonna die here so…” He turns on his heel, walking away.

Behind him, he hears Roland in his honey-dripped voice say, “About damn time.”

Lacklon grins. Not bad for the first verse of his own epic song.

#dragon age #dragon age absolution #lacklon #roland #lacklon x roland #rolack #someone come up with a ship name for them #because I love them so much and want to write all the things #they are beautiful #and absurd #like the best pairings are #my writing

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darknight3904 · 6 months

Text

Horns and Claws

Masterlist to This Love

Asgard 987 A.D (Thor 17, Loki 17, Astri 15)

"Compensating for something, brother?" Thor asked with a grin on his face

Astri stifled her laugh into an ugly snort as Thor voiced her exact thoughts. They had been waiting for Loki at the stables for some time before he finally showed his face. Of course, once he showed up he came wearing what might have been the strangest thing in all the realms.

"I know you are not commenting on my helmet when you both have ones of your own," Loki replied.

"Yes, we have helmets. You look like one of those Midgard animals we saw on our last trip there. What were they called again, Thor?" Astri laughed

"I believe the animal was called a deer." Thor smiled as he helped Astri onto her horse.

Astri only laughed harder when Loki made a clear point of not even looking at them in a clear attempt to ignore their taunts.

"Laugh all you want. My helmet also serves as a weapon." Loki said as they rode towards the Bifrost.

"Hope your head doesn't get caught in the doorway when we get back home," Astri smirked

Thor's loud laughter drowned out Loki's quip back that was undoubtedly about how Astri had fallen over her own feet in the training grounds the other day. They had finally calmed their insults against each other when they reached the Bifrost.

"My princes. Lady Astri." Heimdall greeted the trio "I wish you all luck on Vanaheim."

"The bandits will not know what hit them." Thor grinned

"Loki I saw you putting your helmet on. I was hoping if I turned my eyes you'd have left it back at the castle." Heimdall said ever so seriously.

"Ha! I'm telling you it's weird looking," Astri smiled nudging Loki's side with her elbow

Loki's response was a sideways glance at Heimdall and a harsh tug on a strand of her hair before he pulled her towards the dazzling lights of the Bifrost.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Vanaheim

Leaving Asgard for the first time without Odin or Frigga felt strangely freeing to Astri. Of course, It would have been more freeing if bandits that were plaguing the planet would've let them at least step out of the Bifrost's scorch marks before attacking. Astri watched wide-eyed as Thor was able to take down 15 of them just by summoning his lightning with Mjolnir. She quickly moved to defend herself against the one on her left that had missed being scorched but Loki beat her to it.

"Stay close to me." He ordered before turning to swiftly stab another ugly bandit in the eye

Always so overprotective. Despite Loki's rude tone, Astri listened to his words and stayed within a few yards of the black-haired man as he cleared through the battle field while Thor flew on ahead.

"Is this all Asgard could summon to fight us? A little girl in armor?" A mocking tone suddenly filled her ears.

"If you must know, the AllFather is testing us to see if we are ready to go to battle on our own. He's confident that three of us are enough to bring your army down. So what does that say about you?" She smiled, unsheathing her sword.

"Strange choice of last words." He grumbled

His large battle axe went slicing through the air, aiming for her head. Astri could feel her heart rate increasing as she dodged another blow, this time her dodge had her stumbling over her own feet and to the ground. She had never been good at sparing on Asgard and now this was the first time she fought someone who wanted to rip her head off. Another heavy blow came at her but this time she quickly rolled to her side to evade it. The giant battle axe meant for her face landed in the trunk of a fallen tree. Her attacker began pulling at it while Astri took a moment to assess his skill. He was the more experienced fighter and was physically stronger than her. She glanced down at her sword that glittered in the warm Vanaheim sun.

You shouldn't always depend on magic, dear.

Frigga's warning that she had told Astri since she was a child had gone in one ear and out the next as Astri sheathed her sword.

"Giving up, girl?" The man laughed as he finally pulled his axe free.

"Just switching strategies." Astri smiled

The bandit snorted like her words were merely childish ignorance, and maybe it was but as he charged once more Astri could see the fear in his eyes when her hands glowed. Her magic hit him square in the chest and he was sent back quite far. Two of his fellow fighters rushed over to scoop him up.

"A witch! They brought a witch to the field! I'll kill her! I've always wondered if they truly have black blood!" He exclaimed, pulling off his now broken chest piece

His comrades glanced at him and then Astri who was still several feet away. Then, as if they had coordinated it, they all let out a rather annoying battle cry before attempting to rush her. Her hands lit up once more and she let go of a rather strong burst. Her three attackers hit the ground unmoving, they'd never move again thanks to her.

"Astri!" Loki's faraway voice broke her trance as she stared at her first kills.

Before she could turn toward him, she was slammed to the ground by something rather heavy and smelly. She opened her eyes to find what might have been the ugliest individual in all the realms on top of her, sitting on her lungs.

"What a pretty girl...almost as pretty as that oaf with the hammer." His disgusting voice said

"Get off," Astri commanded, letting her hands glow once more.

The ugly heavy lug went flying off her and a little to her right as she heaved, trying to catch her breath. She looked over at him and saw his large form pulling itself off the ground. He had to be twice the size of Thor with horrible claws that looked ready to slice her in half. Along his belt, there was a dozen throwing knives, and a sword that looked as long as she was tall. His skin was welted and peeling like he was singed by fire or rather lightning. On his back, there was a large bow with arrows to accompany it. He was armed to the teeth and all Astri had was a sword, knife, and what Frigga had taught her.

"A rather strong, pretty girl." He said, quickly recovering "All right, beautiful... let's see how well you fight."

Astri barely had time to duck before a knife went over her head. The man? Creature? Animal? Laughed as she righted herself again. Another knife. Dodge. And another. Quickly jump to your left! What're you doing? Just fight back! Astri turned to face the thing once more and quickly let out a burst of power. Of course, that ugly thing could dodge that. She thought to herself. She readied herself for the next knife, but it never came. Instead, there was a soft whistle of air before an arrow lodged itself in her leg.

"No more magic for you, little one." His voice filled her ears as she ripped the arrow out of her leg with a gasp

Astri looked at her hands, willing any power to come to her, instead, she was met with nothing as he charged again, this time with claws extending from his hands. That quiver must have been laced with something to subdue her magic.

"After we beat Thor and that idiot with the knives I'm taking you back to my home!" He laughed and got ready to swing at her. "Can't wait to take that armor off!"

Astri's heart pounded as she pulled her sword out. She could do this she just had to focus. A sharp inhale and as the air filled her lungs she swung to block his hands. Success! The screeching of metal on whatever those claws were made of filled her ears as she pushed back, jumping back to a safer distance. Here comes the second attack...breathe Astri. This time though she must've been holding her damn sword at an incorrect angle because when they made contact it snapped leaving her with a short stub of metal and an ornate hilt in hand.

"Looks like I'm winning this one." He smiled

Astri quickly pulled her knife from her side. It was rather short but she had spent years watching Loki fight with his. She could do this. It was as if he moved in slow motion as he charged at her, claws out ready to cut her in half. Her grasp on the knife turned her knuckles white as she quickly dodged and jumped onto his back. He cried out when her knife made contact with what she was pretty sure was his throat. She pressed down hard and quickly dragged it backward toward herself in an attempt to behead him. Hot blood sprayed and got in her mouth as she pulled before he collapsed backward.

Astri groaned as she pushed his heavy form off her. Of course, he had to fall backward onto her and not forward onto that ugly face of his. Warm blood dripped down her and dyed the grass. She glanced at his head which had come fully off like some children's toy. Her thinking was interrupted by loud yelling and she looked up to see what must have been 50 men charging at her. Gods she wanted to go home and take a soak in a bath. Her knife remained sharp as ever as she picked it up from the reddened grass at her feet.

"She killed our champion, get her!" one yelled as they got closer

So this is how I go. Odin never should have sent just three of us, she thought to herself.

A loud crack of thunder filled her ears just as she had gotten her knife tight in her grasp once more. To her delight Thor landed in the center of all the madness, his lighting leveling the enemy's forces.

A hand at her back nearly sent her screaming as she quickly grabbed the thing and slammed it to the ground, quickly straddling her attacker's waist.

"It's me!" Loki's strained voice cried as she pressed her blade harshly to his throat

Relief filled her as she let him go and collapsed on the ground next to him.

"Are you alright?" Loki asked sitting up next to her

"Don't I look alright?" Astri groaned

"Well, you look..." Loki trailed off

"You look terrible!" Thor said as he sauntered over

"Thank you, Thor," Astri said as she let Loki help her to her feet.

Astri was a few steps ahead of the brothers as they walked through the battlefield making sure there were no remaining fighters.

"I want to apologize for leaving the champion to you. They released this ugly beast that kept my attention for too long." Thor said falling into step with a bloody Astri.

"It's okay. I feel accomplished. I've never really beaten anyone in hand-to-hand combat before" Astri responded

"That was more of a near-death, lucky survival experience, Astri," Loki said catching up to the pair

"Hush. No one asked." Astri said with a wave of her hand "You should be glad I killed him. He called you the idiot with knives when we were fighting."

"Did he call me anything?" Thor asked

"I believe it was something along the lines of pretty oaf with a hammer." She smiled

"Well, he has good tastes." Thor grinned.

Astri laughed when she saw Loki's disgruntled look as Thor accepted the compliment.

"Don't worry Loki," She smiled, tossing an arm around his shoulders "At least he didn't call you greasy."

Astri's Armor Pictured above

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #thor odinson #marvel #the avengers #mcu #fanfic #loki x oc #romance #loki series #loki season 2 #lokixoc

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