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tyrramint · 4 months

Text

Happy Lockwood & Co. Big Bang!!! :D I had the absolute pleasure of collaborating with @The_Dreamer_Half_Alive (on Ao3 :) on her fic for the @lockwoodandcobigbang2023 event; set post TEG, it’s truly so lovely and heartwarming, and I had so much fun doing a piece for it! We very much hope you enjoy :)

Link to the fic!!!! (the horror of the night melt away) under the warm glow of survival of the day

(Closeups below the cut :D) (because I ended up making it too wide to be easily seen in full lol) (plus ~artistic commentary~)

(SPOILERS FOR FIC CONTENT)

Okay, so I tried to put a bunch of little easter eggs from the fic and just in general in here, so if you’re interested:

Alright, to start off, I was generally very inspired by them getting a record player; I thought it was very sweet, and I loved the idea of them finally getting to relax and hang out in the library (the lack of chairs, I know; I couldn’t figure out how to put them in without blocking people lol) and locklyle dancing, with the record player on in the background, so that’s what I took as the basis of the scene!!

We had discussed that the characters were kind of a combo of both show and book versions, so I tried to add a smattering and hints of both when doing their designs!

The record is, of course, an Ella Fitzgerald record as mentioned in the fic (the record drawn is her Souvenir Album)

Holly is wearing her engagement ring, and wearing shades of pink and cream because that’s what she wears at her wedding (although shifted in hue to better match the color scheme of the piece lol)

Everyone (minus Flo) of course has their white strands of hair (which is *always* one of my favorite details to draw)

Lucy and George bake in the fic, but I think I had just read the Christmas mini story when I was doing my thumbnail for this, so Kipps ended up being the one bringing in baked goods; however, the baking mitts are orange and monogrammed with George's initials because I couldn't let that slip by, could I?

I wasn't quite sure what to put Flo in, because in the books she never takes off her boots or puffer jacket, but I wanted to throw in some sign that she was living at 35 Portland Row and becoming closer to all of them, (and her close relationship with George,) so I let her keep the boots, but traded the puffer jacket in for one of George's plaid shirts :)

The chess game also made it in because of the Christmas short story, lol

Lucy's blue star jacket!! When I read the fic, I was planning from the start to have her wearing the jacket, so of course it made it in :) I wasn't really sure what style it should be, though, so I ended up with kind of an odd mishmash of designs, but I think it turned out working alright!

The sapphire necklace, because, of course

I adore that Lockwood wears his pink socks throughout the entire show (well, most of the time they're the pink ones ;) so I wanted to include them (and then gave Lucy blue ones to match :)

The chipped blue mugs that Lockwood brings to Lucy for her tea after she wakes up from nightmares are on the bookshelf, and I couldn't find a way to directly include the Earl Grey tea they have, but I made the tea bag tags grey in honor of it

The green glow is the ghost lamp outside because if I can find a way to incorporate cool glows in my art, I will (and also on a more narrative-driven note, symbolizing the past danger they've been through and how some of it is definitely still present, but they have each other to heal with and finally be able to have some simple fun with, and are now curled up in the safety and comfort of 35 Portland Row :)

And finally, a big theme of the fic is them healing and building a happy life together, so I just wanted them to all be happy for once, and hence I put in my best efforts to draw them as such :)

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saeyoungchoismaid · 1 year

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hi love! big fan of your blog <3 if it wouldn't be too much trouble, could I request hc's for a gender neutral MC who calls the obey me boys (minus luke ofc) by terms of endearment as a nickname, like calling mammon honey! love you, have a great day!

Hi anon! I'm assuming you're asking for their reactions to being called smth like that and what they'd prefer to be called? Idk but that's what I did lol. Hope you enjoy!

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Lucifer:

I think the first time you use a term of endearment for him, he's just kinda like 🧍 LMAO

like it just catches him so off guard bc he's not used to it

if you call him smth serious like "darling" or "sweetie," he will blush but try to hide it

if it's smth dumb like "my honey bunches of oats," he's going to give you the most unimpressed look imaginable

definitely prefers to call you and to be called the more 'mature' terms such as darling, honey, my love, sweetheart, my beloved, and so on

Mammon:

blushes 47103784 different shades and can't stop stuttering the first time you call him one

pretends to not like them but is actually obsessed

he will legit think you're mad at him if you use his name instead of a pet name 😭✋😂

likes calling you the cheesy, dorky stuff like sweetie (pie), cutie (pie), my honey bunches of oats, sugar, sunshine, buttercup, sweet pea, and so on

he likes when you call him babe/baby, honey, sweetie, handsome, sweet thang, good lookin, and probs smth ridiculous like stud muffin 💀

Levi:

dies on the spot. rip Levi

nah but he fr gets SO embarrassed

honestly probably takes him a while to call you anything other than your name and "normie" 😭✋

when he finally gets with the program, he'd probably start out with calling you basic stuff like babe/baby and beautiful, and then might start warming up to more playful ones like queen/king or even smth oddly specific like Pudding Pop which ofc has a funny story behind it

he likes it when you call him babe/baby. And while these next ones are so corny and cheesy that it makes him want to die, he secretly loves them. Honey bun, sweetie (pie), love bug, and mayhaps even a baby boy?

Satan:

I can't decide if he'd be blushing red from embarrassment or would just be such a cocky bastard about it 😭✋

idk maybe if he was unsure about your feelings then he'd be flustered, but if he knew how you felt, he'd just be smirking as his sharp tongue went unchecked

honestly, probably uses similar terms that Luci uses, but I think he'd also use terms that are from books, poetry, and so on. Stuff like rosebud, jewel, my beloved, apple of my eye, light of my life, beau, dove, cara mia ("my beloved" in Italian), and so on. He'd also love to call you kitten/kitty cat/etc

he'd probably, again, like similar ones that Luci prefers. I think he'd also like things like Romeo, my other half, soulmate, my one and only, and other stuff like that. He even grows to like "old man" despite the fact that he pretends to hate it 💀

Asmo:

sigh. where to even start with this man

he's been calling you pet names since day one 😭💀

it ranges from cutie to sexy, baby to mi amor, sweet cheeks to darling, little dove to doll. it's a new one every time he addresses you I stg. It honestly just depends on what kind of mood he's/you're in, where you are, who you're with, etc.

he likes when you call him the same things, but especially likes anything that refers to his looks such as handsome, dream boat, papi, hot stuff, sexy, casanova, and so on. He also likes things like prince charming and my knight in shining armor

Beel:

my time has come

probably blushes when you call him one but then gets super happy and is just cheesin for the rest of the day

loves loves loves when you both use food ones 😭😂 sweetie pie, honey (bun), jellybean, cupcake, dumpling, buttercup, sugarplum, puddin, sugar, the list goes on 😭✋😂

I think he would also like the really sweet and cute ones too though like honey bunny, love bug, my love, darling, and so on

Belphie:

can dish it out but can't eat what he's cookin LMAO

easily calls you pet names but always gets so embarrassed when you return it. (He's probably the type to get angry when you call him something sweet or cute LMAO like his embarrassment turns into anger to cope with it anogifehdfah)

he loves calling you my moon/stars/sun(shine). I think he'd also use ones like angel, babe/baby, sweetie/sweetheart, and so on

he'd like when you call him sleepyhead, teddy bear, babe/baby, and snuggle bug. Super cheesy ones like snookums or smth like that will never fail to make him grin and chuckle

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ruthlesslistener · 7 months

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Could you talk about the Shade Lord? Especially the apologist part, what needs apologising (genuine question)?

Oh the apologist part is just me joking about how I'd defend LOS no matter what they do, not necessarily because they actually did anything bad lol. And if they did, I'd fight for them all the same bc they're my little meow-meow and some murders are funny (there's a reason why my Destiny 2 sideblog is ahamkara-apologist, even though the Ahamkara as a race are vastly more problematic than the LOS- they're space dragons and I love them). Ofc, there's always those people who think that the Lord of Shades is some kind of evil entity unleashed by Ghost that'll bring about the ruin of Hallownest twice over (usually people who don't realize that the Lord of Shades is CONTROLLED by Ghost- it's the shades of all the dead vessels with Ghost as its Focus), but mostly its just bc I adore them. Though it does have the added bonus of pointing out that while I like the Pale King and the Radiance as characters, I'm ultimately sympathetic to the vessels the most, which is a core point in my ramblings that I fear often gets lost, especially when I get angry about the 'PK is a colonizer and the moth tribes/Radi were the natives he genocided take'- because idgaf about people hating PK, what I hate is how incorrect that was AS WELL AS how it ignores the fact that the Void Civilization came before the Radiance did, which always seems to be conveniently forgotten or brushed over in those arguments. The fact of the matter is that Radi and PK aren't the 'secret heroes' no matter how you spin it, they're monsters that abused, tortured, and manipulated the voidborn- aka Ghost, their siblings, and (maybe) those that used to worship their element. Sympathetic monsters, yes, monsters who are caught in a tragedy, but still monsters. It's the Void that's the victim, and I stand by that in its entirety. Every act of retribution was justified. Even them killing Godseeker- which is the argument some people use for them being evil- because why shouldn't they? She was awful to them, cruel and rude and scornful just like the Pale King was cruel and the Radiance was hateful. SHE was the reason why the Radiance grew in power to become Absolute Radiance. She deserved what she got, 100%. Ghost and their siblings endured a lifetime of torment from the moment they were hatched, they deserve EVERY little scrap of retribution they get- and they aren't monsters for lashing out at the ones who caused the pain in the first place. It's all justifiable

(Also, neither PK nor Radi are my favs. Hollow is, with their relationship to their siblings [specifically Hornet] being my fav dynamic. I only like to explore PK and Radi in depth because of their impact on Hollow's life. So needless to say I'm a void stan through and through, and since the Lord of Shades is all of them, it fits)

As for the Lord of Shades themselves! I think I already sort of covered why I love them so much just in the first two paragraphs- they are all the shades of the dead vessels poured into one entity, with Ghost as the Focus, and thus the Lord of Shades is in essence Ghost (and co, minus Hollow probably) in their ascendant form, as a true Higher Being. Which is in of itself a monumental feat for something that was hatched to die, a godling denied their deific status by beings who could not understand them as anything but death. They're vengence and defiance made manifest, and they were reformed into the shape they are now because they looked into the eyes of their creators and tormenters and said no more. The first step towards their creation, the catalyst for their metamorphasis, was turning the Kingsoul into the Voidheart- very literally rejecting the Pale King's edict and reforming it into a beacon of their own power, accepting their nature and defying their maker. They looked at the very soul of someone who had cast their eggs into the dark sea below, who hatched them into a graveyard and watched them die in the millions, who made them to be slaughtered for his own cause because he thought they as the voidborn were less than alive- and they said 'I reject you. I reject what you said to me. I reject what you represent. I reject your vision, the way you made me to be. I will forge my own path. I will make my own way. I will accept what I am and I will show you right now that I am alive, I am here, I am not heartless and I am not thoughtless. I am what I am. I am the Void. And I will do what I must to save the family that you left behind.'

AND THEY DID IT FOR THE LOVE OF THEIR SIBLING, they did it for the love of the Hollow Knight, who let them fall and left them to die when they were both just hatchlings, who they had no obligation to save and yet rushed back to do so anyways. And they soldiered on through impossible odds, through endless fights in life and dream all while a spiteful, hateful creature hissed at their worthlessness and empowered their worst enemy, so that they could destroy the Radiance in her entirety, before she could be brought back at the peak of her power. The entire REASON that they could become the Lord of Shades in the first place and WHY they achieved that metamorphasis was for the love of their family- and for a vengence long-overdue, to say 'enough, enough!' and end the torment that plagued their kind for so long for no other reason than the selfishness of other gods. Dream No More was a beautiful ending that encapsulated the vessels finally getting peace, but I love the Embrace the Void ending because to me it feels like Ghost (and the other vessels) are reclaiming what was rightfully theirs, by force, from the entities who subjugated them for so long, and taking their rightful place as the major god of Hallownest- a birthright stolen from them by the Radiance, and denied to them by the Pale Gods.

(Also you can very easily imagine the LOS as Ghost being essentially a streamer with the other vessels being their chat and I love that sm. The-Many-Who-Are-One. My beloveds)

So yeah, that's why I'm the Shade Lord apologist. I fucking love them. 1000000/10 god

#hollow knight #the lord of shades #the hollow knight #anon #reply #[holds them gently] i would die for all of u #my adoration for them is partially why udsb has so much fuckin void sea metaphors and shit going on

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mayybirds · 9 months

Note

So Eveline has white hair now, eh? Neato!

Aha, yes she does! Even if, admittedly, most of the time she'll be looking as we remember her from the game, thanks to her mold-hair-dye haha.

It felt too fun not to opt for, given the multiple layers of nods to canon and symbolism tied up in it. On a logistical level, of course, it's reasonable to posit that given old!Eveline's hair was white, there might be some permanent effects in rejuvenated young!Eveline, such as the white hair. It was also a more symbolic choice, though.

In RE7 & 8, shades of black are the colors of Eveline's mold, while white is its antithetical--the color calcified and dying bioweapons & infected persons turn. In some ways, black is the color of life, while white is the color of death. Black and white play out the same for Eveline in her hair--as a healthy child, her natural hair color is black. As a dying old woman, her hair is white. White is the personal color of Eveline's death.

On another level, the reverse color symbolism could be argued. The mold is also a thing of death--the loss of free will and the eventual rotting of the body for almost everyone exposed to it (minus Ethan lol). The calcification is a sort of freedom--freedom in death, but it's what Jack Baker asks for, nonetheless. And in End of Zoe, Zoe survives her calcification, and lives. Her hair stays permanently white. Her hair change in this case almost becomes a symbol of life. So it was fun to think about all of this, and intentionally tie Eveline and Zoe's physical changes together. White is death--but only from death can rebirth occur.

So it was meaningful for me, in the end, to give Eveline white hair upon her "resurrection." Not just as a permanent marker of the past, but as a symbol of death, change, and renewal. It's equally important, in my mind, of course, that she has the ability to change it at will using her mold. Something something "Eveline must be both life and death, mold and human, light and dark, to survive"....?

(Of course, it's also just a fun excuse to put mold in Eveline's hair and one day let her do the Hummingbird whip-wing move from Deadman Wonderland.)

#I HAVE A LOT TO SAY ABOUT COLOR SYMBOLISM IN RE7 #AND YES THIS CARRIES OVER TO MY READING OF RE8 AND YES THAT INCLUDES HAIR COLOR SPECIFICALLY!!!#asks #anonymous #Through the Valley to Life #also it cute #this was a reason too lol

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grizzlyofthesea · 2 months

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Attempting to Rank the Songs in Project Diva X

WARNING: LONG POST

I downloaded Project Diva X a couple weeks ago, and I absolutely love it. It has its flaws and quirks, but it's fun. But most importantly...

The song list is phenomenal. It's short and very Miku-biased, even by Project Diva standards, but what we have here is ~quality.~ We have a large variety of musical genres and styles. We have both Vocaloid community staples and new experiments. We have MARETU. You sadly won't find these songs anywhere else in the series (minus Mega Mix+ mods, but I mean in an official capacity), but at least they're here. And do you know what I like to do with my favorite things?

I like to rank them. I don't know why. Weird brain stuff, I guess. But if you want to read the ramblings of a sleep-deprived weirdo, you're in the right place.

Keep in mind, all of these songs are at least decent (around B-tier at minimum) to me. Someone has to be last, but I enjoy listening to all of them and playing through the ones I have.

There are stats at the end for each Cloud/Aura's overall score, too. Now, let's go!

32.) Sharing the World

Miku V3 English is...a bit rough-sounding here. Not nails on a chalkboard, but not the most pleasant thing ever. The concept behind the song is cute, though. Miku is everywhere now, and people are using her (and other vocal synths) to share their feelings with others across the world. That is truly beautiful.

31.) The First Sound

Very simple, and Miku sounds a bit shrill on the highest notes. However, the lyrics are heartfelt and sweet. Also, the Triple Threat version of this song's Extreme chart was my first (and is still my only) Extreme Perfect. I don't know how I got it before the normal one, but I'll take it.

30.) Babylon

I feel like Miku's voice gets a bit lost in the instrumental. I also don't get why there are teeth everywhere. That being said, the shifts in tempo and time signature give this song a truly unique vibe.

29.) Even a Kunoichi Needs Love

Again, Miku and Rin feel a bit drowned out by the instrumental at times, but the fast pace and catchy rhythm elevate this song's standing a bit. And the existence of a Naruto and Sasuke cover in one of Minnemi's cursed UTAU concerts.

28.) LOL - lots of laugh -

Slow and repetitive, but the imagery in the lyrics is creative and vivid. You also definitely get a "whimsical carnival" feeling from the instrumental.

27.) Hand in Hand

Kind of generic as far as Miku songs go, but still catchy and pleasant.

26.) Slow Motion

The premise of the song--contemplating life while sick with a cold--is simply delightful. I'm just not the biggest fan of how Pinocchio-P tunes Miku in certain songs, Slow Motion included. Common World Domination is more to my taste.

25.) Ending Medley - Ultimate Exquisite Rampage

Ow, my wrists. This is a fun, nostalgic tribute to Project Diva entries past, and the choice to begin with Disappearance and end with Intense Voice makes for a touching narrative. The Ura-Omote Lovers remix is pretty cool, too, since it starts off slower than normal and speeds up over time. But again, ow, my wrists.

24.) Name of the Sin

You can't really go wrong with a musical fairytale...unless you cut out a good chunk of the song and scramble the story, but I still like the simple, timeless feel nonetheless. The shades of purple used for Miku's Cantatrice module are gorgeous as well.

23.) Streaming Heart

This isn't my favorite of DECO*27's works, but the instrumental break is awesome--heavy and gritty. The charting during said break's Technical Zone, especially on Extreme, amplifies the intensity and makes it feel extra satisfying.

22.) Love Trial

Simple but (fittingly) cute. The piano and trumpet combine well in the instrumental. Miku's tuning isn't the most dynamic here, but it's not a big issue when the rhythms are getting stuck in my head anyway. The lyrics are also quite fun with their courtroom metaphors. Ace Attorney fandom, I want to see your take on this song.

21.) Elegant Medley ~ Glossy Mixture ~

The strange shifts in tempo make certain parts torture to learn (TECHNICAL ZONES), but man, the Nebula part is pretty. And who doesn't love Sweet Devil? The ending is a bit abrupt, but I also don't know what else could have been done there.

20.) Beginning Medley - Primary Colors

I adore OSTER Project, and the group performance of Miracle Paint at the end is spectacular. Easily the best version of Miracle Paint out there. This medley's low placement on the list is simply a testament to how amazing Project Diva X's song list is.

19.) Lost One's Weeping

Rin feels a bit drowned out during the verses, but as someone with horrible test anxiety, I feel the lyrics. You could even say that the drowned-out vocals fit the theme of overwhelming academic pressure. The heavy electric guitar is perfect for the Cool Cloud, too.

18.) Quirky Medley - Giga Remix

Giga-P makes some good stuff. The choices for Rin and Len's solos were a bit weird, though. I mean, Gigantic OTN is a classic, but the sexual theme for that and "Pincostique" Love just doesn't fit the Quirky vibe in my opinion. However, Childish War is peak.

17.) Raspberry*Monster

The stage is a bit "neon barf sensory overload," but it fits the song's chaotic vibes. The chorus is also memorable thanks to the unique melody and expressive shouts.

16.) Satisfaction

EDM isn't my favorite musical genre, but it really works here. I think it's the combination of the awesome instrumental and kz(livetune)'s tuning really leaning into Miku's nature as an electronic instrument.

15.) Cute Medley - Idol Sounds

A collection of Mitchie M classics in all their peppy, expressive glory is a win in my book. Each song, from Freely Tomorrow to Blooming the Idol, perfectly suits the "J-pop idol" theme of the medley. KAITO should have been there, though. He wanted to learn how to be cute, so he should get to be cute. >:T

14.) Patchwork Staccato

A surprise bit of melancholy for the Cute Cloud, but the change of pace is welcome. Miku's falsetto pushes the limits of her upper range without sounding shrill, which I imagine takes immense patience to get right. Her singing throughout is refreshing, too, somehow coming across as sweet yet cold. And we can't ignore the immersive, quilt-like scenery of the stage. However, the Freddy Fazbear cover is still the best version (thank you again, Minnemi).

13.) Love Song

My mom's favorite simply for the "u-papa" parts (although the way she sings it sounds more like PoPiPo ^^"). And hey, I can't blame her. It's bouncy and sweet. It puts you in a good mood.

12.) Strangers

The way the rhythm changes throughout the song keeps things fresh, and the instrumental is surprisingly captivating. I love the stage, too. The Playstation symbol lights are enticing, but not distracting or intrusive.

11.) Holy Lance Explosion Boy

Why are the dirtiest songs always some of the catchiest? And why is Len used for so many of them? It's still a bop, though. A lot of songs by rerulili are. The Extreme chart is pain, but it's not unfair. It's just very, very crowded and technical. It's satisfying to improve my score here, at any rate.

10.) Solitary Envy

Surprisingly gentle and subdued for the Cool Cloud, but that makes it unique. I also love when Miku is given a lower and softer voice, whether it's her Dark Append or a unique tuning style. The syncopation during the chorus gives it a bit of a playful edge, too.

9.) A Single Red Leaf

A classic, gentle love ballad with a traditional Japanese flair. It may not be the flashiest or feature the most realistic tuning of Luka, but it's simply perfect for the Elegant Cloud. Also, despite being on the slower side, it's not painfully slow like certain other songs in the series (Sakura Rain--).

8.) Humorous Dream of Mrs. Pumpkin

Halloween vibes are always good vibes, and we stan Hachi in this household. I wish the song wasn't so obviously cut off at the end, but I am glad that it's here at all. Also, Halloween Miku supremacy.

7.) Cool Medley - Cyber Rock Jam

The transition from Don't My List Me! to Tengaku is so smooth. Absolutely beautiful. Unhappy Refrain is always a jam, Palette was a splendid surprise (with Luka V4x, too!), and This Messed-Up Wonderful World Exists For Me is an incredible finale. Cyber Rock Jam is easily the best medley in the game.

6.) Calc.

The intense guitar solos interspersed throughout the song really complement the smooth, relaxed melody. They're fundamentally different, yet their differences blend into a beautiful product instead of clashing.

5.) Tale of the Deep-Sea Lily

Again, I enjoy songs with a softer, lower-pitched Miku. This one is bouncy yet gentle, and I'm a total sucker for the nautical theme. Plus, the Sea Lily module makes Miku look a little like GUMI (my absolute favorite Vocaloid).

4.) Urotander, Underhanded Rangers

Hilarious in every single way, from the PV to the Extreme chart. The Chance Time star zooming across the screen sends me every time. KAITO, MEIKO, and Miku make for a nice trio, too. I wish they were used together more often.

3.) Ai Dee

It's a Mitchie M song that features Luka rapping in English, as well as bits in French and Spanish. It has to be in the top 3. The Electronica Anode (Miku) and Electronica Cathode (Luka) modules are some of my favorites in the game, too. What can I say? I'm weak to glowy stuff.

2.) Brain Revolution Girl

MARETU's instrumentals tend to be awesome, and it's no different here. The synth is decidedly electronic in tone, yet dramatic in its note progression. The guitar bit in the middle and the quiet segment immediately after add to the drama by bringing variety. Also, C minor is my favorite key, and C# minor isn't too far behind. I just feel so evil and powerful when I listen to this song. I love it.

1.) Amazing Dolce

It's MEIKO and the Kagamines. It's Hitoshizuku × Yama. It's energetic and jazzy. It even has a huge, dramatic, big band-style brass break in the middle. Need I say more? Actually, yes. The modules. They're super creative and adorable with their food themes. Strawberry Witch (MEIKO) and Pâtissier Gretel (Rin) are simply stunning. Len's Pâtissier Hansel module confused me for a while, but then it clicked when I realized that his motif isn't anything banana-related--it's apple pie. So he's also up there, and all of these ingredients combine to give us the best song in the game.

Now for the Cloud rankings. These are simple averages/means:

1.) Elegant - average of 7.83/32

2.) Cool - average of 11.83/32

3.) Quirky - average of 18.17/32

4.) Cute - average of 18.83/32

5.) Classic - average of 21.5/32

6.) Extra - average of 29.5/32

And here are (hopefully correct) weighted averages to compensate for the outliers in each set:

1.) Elegant - wav of 7.83/32 (Huh. Neat.)

2.) Cool - wav of 13.47/32

3.) Cute - wav of 15.62/32 (What an upset!)

4.) Quirky - wav of 17.56/32

5.) Classic - wav of 22.98/32

6.) Extra - wav of 29.5/32 (Two equidistant data points will do that. :p)

With all that said and done, what do you think? What are your favorite songs not just in X, but in the entire Project Diva series (Mirai counts, too)?

#vocaloid #project diva x #project diva #rhythm game #ranking #ranking my current interest because i'm a bit weird like that #hatsune miku #kagamine rin #kagamine len #megurine luka #meiko vocaloid #kaito vocaloid #did i do statistics right?#project mirai #minnemi #long post #super long post

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magmacannon · 7 months

Note

glance, face, motion, informal and change for grey!

eehehehe

glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC’s appearance? What’s their distinguishing feature?

Grey's most distinguishing features is that he dresses almost entirely in greyscale (his skin/hair/irises are also shades of grey) minus his earrings! He also has so many earrings that his (long) ears droop downward so that's definitely a really notable feature lol

face: Describe your OC’s face. What’s their smile like? Are their orbs cerulean? What would someone notice first when looking at them?

Grey has a long, smooth, and downturned nose, shaped eyebrows, slicked-back slate-grey hair that he keeps in a pony tail, purple-grey eyes, and those big-ol' drow-elf ears. He has a really serene smile that can turn devious depending on what he's doing! Grey's most noticable feature is probably his earrings and hair tbh.

motion: How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?

He's like ridiculously smooth sometimes, but other times he's just well aware of his proprioception and handles himself well! He stretches regularly (seems like a yoga type tbh... I bet he has a daily routine of stretches he does before and after trancing) and has an easy time moving even if he isn't super physically strong. His clothing does definitely interfere with his motion since he tends to wear suits lol

informal: What’s your OC’s lazy-day look? How do they like to dress when they’re winding down?

pseudo-suit pajamas..... I think he has silk nightclothes (long-sleeve shirt and pants) that he also likes to wear when he's not going anywhere. I think he'd love turtlenecks too, as a step-down from full suits! Well-fitted dress pants are a near-constant though.

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

This question rules because I decided to roll to see if Grey ever had a goth phase (it was a no uu) BUT he did drastically change his appearance before! He used to wear much flashier and brighter clothes and gave that up when his past beau ditched him. I honestly don't think he was the one who decided he should wear those brighter colors so I think he does enjoy the change!

#thanks for the ask!!#c: Grey #SO sad that roll was a fail btu ah well

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goddessofroyalty · 2 years

Note

It just occurred to me that Omega!Silco must have had a hard time giving up smoking and drinking during all of his pregnancies while living at The Drop (A place filled with drinking and smoking patrons) with Vander 😂

Did Silco develop somekind of hobby (eg knitting) to keep his fingers and mouth busy ?

Also did Silco's water ever broke in the most inconvenient time? (eg: At his stay in Piltover or during a negotiation? Or even during an argument with Benzo, lol)

Oh yeah, the thing I keep not including in any of my fics because I'm VERY aware of the effects of drinking and smoking on pregnancy and around young children despite not being 100% sure the characters do. I say that Silco stops drinking and smoking at least for the pregnancy for my peace of mind.

Also Random Pregnancy Culture Fun Fact: Guinness (the beer) was suggested to pregnant and nursing women to help boost their iron levels and help boost ones milk supply until basically we got modern iron supplements (and like most traditions it still lingers in some families), comes from the UK I believe. I actually know people who were given a pint (well glass IDK if it was an actual pint glass) of Guinness by family/partner to drink right after they gave birth. And while I'm aware you shouldn't drink alcohol while nursing I feel like that later tradition fits a bit too well here I kind of have to include it (and one glass of relatively low strength beer is pretty negligible).

(for Zaun Family) Viktor's the easiest at least on the drinking front because Silco isn't literally living in a bar. But he's probably been smoking since he was like at the oldest 12 himself so that habit is ingrained and going to be hard to break even for the length of a pregnancy (minus the time it took him to realise). And the poor bastard can't even have a celebratory drink when they do open the Last Drop because he's already pregnant with Claggor.

In basically every other verse and the other pregnancies in Zaun Family Oh yeah it's hard. But, you know, he's already putting in all the other effort to make the kid, so what's 9 months of no smokes or alcohol going to do to ensure they're as healthy and well off as possible? (Be even more of the reason he gets pregnancy insomnia thanks to withdrawals).

I do think Vander probably tries not to drink or smoke around him in some level of solidarity.

The obvious habit Silco might develop is nail biting (satisfies the hands and the mouth) and possibly drives him to keep his nails super short so he can't bite them. Food's probably another thing he can turn to (which you know he is eating for two). I could see him getting into the habit of sucking on the ends of pens because he does it without even thinking. I don't think he goes out looking for a hobby though, just gets extra habits.

Oh yeah I haven't told you guys about the idea with the fourth pregnancy while he's Zaun Representative offshoot of him giving birth in his office in PIltover have I?

Claggor's one where his waters break once he's already in active labour so is already well aware of what's going on and set himself up in his nest with the midwife by that time. And Mylo IDK for some reason I think he rides out the early part of that labour in their bathtub so his waters break while there if it's not also after he's been moved back to the bedroom and is in a bit more of the active labour phase (although it could be funny while he's making plans with like teenaged Sevika who already was kind of team 'not having kids' and is now EVEN MORE SET on that life decision despite Silco taking it in his stride).

... it's with Viktor isn't it? The one that came a bit earlier than predicted where he still hasn't fully learned the different between practice contractions and early labour. I mean it was a very effective method to get Benzo to shut up and back down even if it also made him turn a shade of green.

#Zaun Family #mpreg #Arcane mpreg #Silco Arcane #omegaverse #Arcane omegaverse #Ramblings of the Goddess #Q and A with the Goddess #Anon question #I mean I also know people who did drink and smoke #through their full pregnancies (different to the Guinness people)#(note I do not like these people partially for that reason)#but you know Silco is a Good Parent #and will just handle his personal suffering for the good of his kid #I do however think he possibly used booze to settle his babies #once they were born #either drinking it before nursing to pass it on to them #or rubbed whisky along their gums to help with teething #Which is still Not Great but somehow #I'm a little more comfortable with it (only a little)#Probably because they don't cause Fetal Alcohol Syndrom #And you yourself have to probably be shitfaced #to have a massive effect on them #but still don't do it any alcohol bad for babies #but these are not real babies they are fictional ones #and it's not like they have access to teething gel #so... ehhhhhh

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racerhala · 1 year

Text

Rating the 2023 F1 liveries

even though no one asked lol

Haas: 7/10

it’s a basic colour scheme but it looks different from last year’s, I like the carbon, and the sponsor logos are properly placed and it looks good overall.

Red Bull: 9/10

they hadn’t changed their car so minus points for that, but it’s a classic beauty that needs to be appreciated.

Williams: 7/10

they change their car almost every season but this year’s is very similar to last year’s which i didn’t really like so minus points for that. but the duracell battery is the most creative thing on any of the f1 cars.

Alfa Romeo: 8/10

love love love. it was such a shock to see, the carbon goes beautifully with the alfa red, but it kinda looks like a ferrari.

AlphaTauri: 3/10

ugly. the sponsors are so out of place and the colours are just not it. i liked the washed colours from last year’s livery so i feel like if they incorporated that, even with the orlen sponsors it would’ve looked cleaner.

McLaren: 8/10

i know not many people like it, but i loved last year’s car and this is just a more edgy looking version of it. and i also love the chrome tires, i think they’re creative.

Aston Martin: 8/10

same with the red bull, it’s a classic, doesn’t need to be changed. but minus points for changing the shade of green, i feel like last year’s was much more majestic.

Ferrari: 10/10

although i was kinda hoping for a black ferrari, this is also a beauty and the launch just made it even more special. and I love the ferrari logo on the rear wing.

Mercedes: 10/10

a 10 doesn’t do this beauty justice. i could stare at this car all day and never bore. one think i dislike tho is the green shade on george’s car. i think he should’ve gone for blue like his helmet.

Alpine: 7/10

contrary to popular opinion, i actually like the car, i feel like it’s a cleaner version of last year’s car. the pink car tho is the ugliest thing i’ve seen in my entire life and i absolutely hate it.

#f1 #formula 1 #haas f1 team #red bull racing #williams racing #alfa romeo f1 #alpha tauri #mclaren f1 #aston martin #scuderia ferrari #mercedes #alpine f1

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

Are very, very old friends

My Masterlist

Your heart and my heart (first part of this)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: A second part to Your heart and my heart, where Ivar and Reader were childhood friends (and pretended to get married when they were children) and got separated by circumstances of life, only to meet again on a battlefield in Wessex.

Word Count: 9.8k (I am so fucking sorry, holy shit)

Warnings: My unwavering state of denial over Aslaug’s death, mentions/descriptions of injury/battle, allusions to sex (nothing graphic), and my terrible writing lol

A/N: I hope you are no longer surprised by how I seem to be able to focus only on the stuff I need to focus on the least, bc here we are. Writing has been very difficult lately, so I am not so sure this is any good, but I still hope you enjoy.

As a reminder: In this universe the brothers (minus Björn) are in Wessex with the Great Heathen Army but Aslaug isn’t dead (Lagertha never took over). This is an almost 6a in age Ivar, but of course a different canon where he has stayed raiding in England. And Princess Blaeja (who was briefly mentioned in the previous part) is engaged to be married to Sigurd.

Your eyes cannot move fast enough to take in the field ahead of you, trying to check every trap and every barricade. Even if you were to find a fault, you remind yourself, you wouldn’t be able to change anything.

Hlíf comes to you, brisk pace that you can still see the exhaustion in, and stands at your side, shield with your colors and your symbol. It looks heavy.

“They are coming, Dane.”

“I know,” A deep breath, and you signal with your head to the center of the camp, “Go back, you’ll lead them to hold the second line. The Saxons will breach the first one.”

“You are not staying here.”

You don’t meet Hlíf’s gaze, instead meeting the eye of a few shieldmaidens that stand tall ahead, waiting for the Saxons to come. They nod their heads once, they know what they are agreeing to.

“We are.”

The forward scouts sound the horns, and before long the marching feet of warriors makes the unfamiliar ground tremble under your feet. Your hands tighten on the handle of your sword, and you take a breath.

Hlíf steps closer, but her gait ins anxious, “You better retreat to us when the time comes, Dane. You are not allowed to die here.”

“Says who?”

Hlíf grunts a curse, but retreats behind the second line of spike barriers.

You’ve been hounded by this group for weeks, ever since you and your warriors departed for York back from a successful raid. You aren’t sure if they are from that city or sent to intercept you from somewhere else, but they are bloodthirsty and determined.

Making camp was a necessity, especially with the wounded and weakened you have in your group, but the years have made you ingenuous, and the months you’ve spent with the Great Army have taught you to use the surroundings in your favor.

Your warriors dug ditches and laid spikes within them, much like you remember hearing Lagertha did when she assisted Aslaug in defending Kattegat, and while you didn’t have the defenses of walls, you made sure to draw passageways with the placement of the tents, to lure the Saxons to follow a path you know by heart when they came.

And now you stand, restless in your spot, waiting for them to get close enough for your archers to thin their numbers, for the frakka’s of those closer to you to take down the stronger ones.

It is not enough, but you never expected it to be.

Once they get close enough, you shout the command to march, and your forces and theirs clash.

The sound of battle deafens you, shouts in two different tongues and death in the same language echoing around you. Still, you seem to hear the faintest of rustles, and you lift your shield as you turn, stopping the downward strike of a Saxon.

Pushing back while you bend your knees, you unbalance him, slashing at his thighs before you plunge your sword in his chest. He meets your eyes, and spits blood in your face before his strength leaves him.

So, it is personal then.

You keep moving, blunt hits of your shield and quick strikes of your sword, taking down as many as you can, worrying more for injuring them and weakening them before they reach the more vulnerable in the camp more than for killing them.

Maybe that is your mistake.

The sword slashes at your leg, the pain sharp and weakening, and your stance buckles. You turn around with a raised shield to try and defend yourself, but you are too close to the ground and the warrior puts all his strength behind his kick and forces you to the ground.

Scrambling to turn on your back and grabbing a discarded axe, you stop the advance of his sword, but your arms burn under the strain, and his snarling face reminds you of a chained dog too close to breaking free.

It isn’t enough. You have no choice.

Releasing the strain of holding him back, you are able to swing your arm back and hit the side of his neck with the hand axe, but not before his sword pierces your shoulder, drawing a scream of pain from you.

Pushing him off you, you stand on uneven ground, trying to make sense of the battle around you and keeping your defenses against the Saxons that are still very much after your blood.

Your shield once again on your hand, you stop the attack of a younger warrior, slashing his chest with a move of your arm that feels weaker and trembling even as you manage to deliver a fatal blow.

Another manages to get close enough to bit the edge of his shield against your wounded leg, and his sword slashes at your side, drawing blood and blinding pain in its wake. He is taken down by a snarling shieldmaiden that comes to stand at your side, and your eyes scan the first line of the camp’s defenses already breached.

You are outnumbered, you are not going to win. Not like this.

“Through the east!” You call out in your own tongue, not waiting for any of the few that remain able to fight to acknowledge your command before you dart for the passageways you can make use of.

You are close enough to the second line of barricades to cross it if you wish to, but your mind is made. The Saxons trailing after you and the few others that still stand, they make quick work of your shieldmaidens soon enough, and you grit your teeth at the screams of pain you can do nothing to stop.

Most of them were foolish enough to think you were retreating, and they trailed after you and the remaining warriors.

Reaching the end of the alleyway, you turn around, standing on shaky legs and lifting one hand. Breathing past the pain is proving difficult, and there’s black at the edges of your vision, but you can still make out the shapes above you, and those that stand next to you.

You close your hand into a fist, meet the eyes of the Saxons that seem to hesitate to approach. They will always fear a heathen woman that smiles while surrounded by blood and death, the fearful -faithful- will call her a monster and insist she is not human.

They fear, they hesitate. And that is enough.

And you drop your hand, the weakest of smiles on your lips as you give one last command,

“Loose.”

____

The first thing you can sense when you awaken is the pain, and the weight keeping you down. Awful, but at least you aren’t dead.

You open your eyes slowly, half expecting to see the murky forests of the Isles towering above you after having been left behind by the Saxons to bleed out slowly and painfully; half expecting something with women on winged horses and a lot of golden shades.

But all that greets you is wood.

Inconsequential, unimpressive, mediocre wood. Yet, your body is filled with such a relief you almost give in to the temptation to doze off again.

Still, you force your body to answer and you sit up on the cot, breaths ragged as the wound on your shoulder sends pain like lightning through your very veins. And slowly, painfully, and with more curses than your mother would like out of a princess, you stand up.

Just when you are considering what the plan after standing up actually was, a woman barges into the room.

“Oh, you’re standing,” She says, and you lift your eyebrows but say nothing. She tsks her tongue, and approaches, her eyes focused on your upper chest, “You shouldn’t be.”

“I would think it was a good sign.”

“Which is why you do the fighting, not the thinking,” She quips, a quirk of her mouth as she glances at you. Quite mean, for an old woman, but still you offer a smile as well. Her palm presses lightly against your shoulder, before going to your side. “You’re not too hot.”

You pout, “Aw, shame.”

“And you seem to be in good spirits.” She chuckles.

You meet her eyes and lean closer, asking quietly,

“That will change soon, though, won’t it?”

“You are the reason a lot of people are angry, yes,” She confesses, before stepping back, “You also are the reason a lot of people are alive as well. Make sure they remember that, and you may keep your head.”

With a non-committal gesture you step past her, a hand on the doorway keeping you upright as you meet the gaze of the expecting shieldmaidens. They call your name and a few expletives in greeting, some in anger, some in welcome, but all in relief.

“While I love seeing you all alive and well, I…have a feeling at least one of you is here under specific instructions.” You state, a quirk of your eyebrow when one of the younger ones stands up, and slips out of the house quietly, with a murmur of being glad you are alright.

You sigh, and though one of them offers you a seat you highly doubt you’ll be able to stand if you sit down, so you wave away her offer, and lean on the doorway.

“Did the rest make it?”

“Most of them, yes. The injured are going to be escorted back, they couldn’t make it on their o-…”

The words die in a gasp as the door to the humble home is kicked open, and a tall shieldmaiden strides in, eyes blazing and set on you.

“You mad Dane bitch!”

“I have a name,” You quip as the shieldmaiden advances towards you. “It is a very pretty one, my mother chose i-…”

She shoves you forcefully, stopping whatever it is you were going to say.

You stumble back but catch yourself before falling, and you can’t help but let out a grunt of pain as your side is pulled tight by the sudden and forceful movement. The healer quips from the room at your back something about not injuring the already injured further, but you both ignore her it seems.

Hlíf still pushes on, “Of all the hare-brained, reckless, st-…”

“Hey!”

“You don’t scare me, Dane,” She huffs back, stepping forward until the shieldmaiden towers over you. “Half dead as you are because of your stupid decisions, you aren’t a threat to anyone, least of all me.”

In the back of your mind, a voice that sounds so alike your brother’s, always calm and collected; begs you not to do this.

You were never good at listening to him, though.

Headbutting one of your oldest friends wasn’t high in the list of things you wanted to do if you ever came back from the dead but…here we are.

Hlíf stumbles back, holding her nose and setting incredulous eyes on you.

Strangely enough, the tension seems to slowly ebb away with the unexpected action.

“I like proving people wrong.” You tell her around a shrug, slowly betraying a smile that she returns, even if there’s a resentful sort of relief in the way she approaches again and presses her brow against yours.

“You are so lucky you’re injured.”

“I wouldn’t call it-…”

“I would. I’d be knocking your pretty ass to the ground if you weren’t,” She promises, and scoffs a laugh that sounds like a reprimand, “You scared me, Dane.”

You meet her eyes, study the dark circles under them, the haggardness on her face, the stubborn tremble in her voice; and realize maybe you weren’t the only one to believe you’d die in that forest.

“How long has it been?”

“A little over a week since we made it to York.” She tells you, motioning for a seat, and motioning again when you refuse it. Stubborn.

You carefully sit down before the fire, narrowing your eyes at the girl that attempts to cover your legs with a fur. You are injured, but you’re far from an old woman.

Though you do accept the awful-smelling brew of herbs the healer presses into your hand before scurrying off back to the room where you were sleeping.

Watching the herbs swirl in the cup, you mumble, “You know, I did the right thing there.”

Hlíf’s kohl-lined eyes narrow, “I don’t think that means what you think it means.”

You gesture with the arm of your good side, “I wasn’t the one leading them! For once I followed orders and we got stuck, it isn’t my fault!”

Hlíf’s eyes only grow bigger and bigger in affront and fury at your insistence, and you decide to shut your mouth.

“You defended when you could have retreated, even though you were wounded, and alone.”

“When you put it like that of cou-…”

She interrupts you, her tone cold and imposing as she repeats, “You defended when you could have retreated, even though you were wounded, and alone.”

“I heard you the first time.”

She offers a side smile, head tilted to the side, “Huh, you listen. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“That is uncalled for, come on.”

Hlíf looks at you, blinks slowly two times, and takes a breath.

“You defended when you could ha-…” She starts again, but you interrupt her with a shove of her good shoulder and a huffed laugh. She does have a point, however insistent she is at repeating it.

“I panicked, I…I needed to give you more time to leave safely, without Saxons trailing after you. I needed to stall them.” You confess quietly, fidgeting with your fingers, elbows resting on your knees, ignoring the soreness on your side as your position strains at the healing wound.

“You agreed to retreat if you were outnumbered, but you didn’t.”

“There were still some traps that hadn’t been used, I could lure them to the east side, and it worked, the archers made work of the thick of their numbers.”

“You were half-dead by the time that happened.” She insists, biting.

“All that matters is that most made it out. It was the right call.”

“If I hadn’t insisted we go back to find you, you would be dead,” She argues, though her voice quietens as well. “You’d be alone in that damn place, we wouldn’t even be able to bury you.”

That is not something you want to think much about, and with your gaze on the flickering flames you press quietly, “Do you want me to apologize, is that it?”

“No.”

“What do you want then?”

“I don’t know, Dane. What do you want?” At your confused frown the shieldmaiden shrugs, “Coming back from the dead and all, figured I could grant you at least one thing.”

“Those Saxons that hunted us down strung up on a tree?” You ask, only half-jesting. Hlíf doesn’t laugh though, she only presses her lips together.

“Can’t do that, Dane. They have been handled already.”

You really shouldn’t have expected otherwise. Still, you ask the question to which you already know the answer,

“Ivar?”

“Poured melted crosses onto their heads, left some alive after it too. Gruesome thing,” She explains, and you nod your head with a hum, wondering how long ago that was and trying to imagine how exactly they were captured so quickly. Hlíf watches you with growing worry, “I don’t know if I should be concerned about your reaction, or…lack of it rather.”

“You get used to it after a while.”

She scoffs, shaking her head, “You do.”

After a few breaths of silence, Hlíf calls your name quietly. She usually calls you ‘Dane’, a habit that never left her since the first days you were fighting together, when you first were able to call yourself a shieldmaiden.

When your attention turns to her, she says, “I’m sorry for shoving you.”

You look into her pale eyes, offer a smile and a nod.

“You should be.” You quip, and after an incredulous breath Hlíf heaves a sigh.

“You could say you’re sorry too, Dane.” The shieldmaiden chuckles, still oddly fond in her defeat.

“I’m not, though.” You reply around a shrug, sharing a smile with her.

The conversation ebbs away as you hear a voice distantly shouting commands, a voice you know well.

“Where is she!?”

“Oh, great.”

Furious stabs of a crutch on the hard ground, and the door opens just as many shieldmaidens scurry away, making way for Ivar the Boneless. His eyes meet yours with a fury you have never seen before, a snarl on his lips and tension coiled around his body like a vine.

When he speaks, though, his voice denotes none of that. His voice is carefully even, dangerously still, reminding you of a beast stalling its breath before it strikes.

For a man as explosive as him, calmness is never a good sign.

“What. Were. You. Thinking.”

Your nose furrows, and you offer with a grimace, “I…wasn’t?”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“I know. I’m the one that almost died, remember?” You prompt, but he doesn’t answer. You nod your head, not really sure what to do, muttering to yourself, “Serious business, dying.”

Hlíf lets out a choked groan, before advising, voice low, “You should really just shut your mouth, Dane.”

Ivar turns to her, the sharp focus of his pale gaze making the shieldmaiden straighten in her seat.

“Get out.” He orders, voice low. You see it in her, the pride insisting on resisting and the instinct pleading to obey.

Instinct wins, and after sparing you a look Hlíf stands up, and motions with her head for the other shieldmaidens to follow, leaving you and Ivar alone in the small home.

It feels even smaller as his gaze returns to you, it even feels almost suffocating as Ivar takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders but says nothing.

You clear your throat, and start what you hope will be a conversation and not a screaming match.

“I am not apologizing for the choice I made.”

An angry breath leaves him through his nose, sharply. His eyes remain on you, quiet intensity that makes you feel exposed.

“Of course you’re not,” Ivar bites out, before shaking his head at himself, “I can’t believe you’d be so-…”

“It was the right call, Ivar.”

He wrenches his gaze from you, looking straight ahead. For a moment you wonder if he refuses to look at you because he thinks he can hide anything from you. Because he should know better, because he should know by now you are aware of the way his jaw tightens, of the way his breaths are intentionally -forcefully- even, of the way anger and pride are the only thing keeping his control from slipping.

“You could have died.”

“And?”

His focus returns to you, and you snap your mouth shut.

Wrong thing to say, wrong thing to say, wrong thing to say.

Ivar’s eyes widen in anger, and when he takes a breath he seems to be twice as tall.

“And!?” He repeats, voice thundering, “You almost died! You…” His nose curls in anger, but there’s something more fragile in his wide eyes, something like fear, “You spent days in that damn bed, they told me it was in the hands of the Gods whether you survived or didn’t.”

A pit of worry forms in your stomach, and you quieten your voice, trying to offer reassurance, “I pulled through, I-I am alright.”

But it falls on deaf ears.

“You were there, dying, and there was nothing I could do,” A sharp breath, but it sounds choked, “You would have gone where I can’t follow, I-…there was nothing to do, nothing I could-…I c-couldn’t-…”

“Ivar…”

He turns to you, accusing, “I was unable to do anything while you died, while you left me.”

“I didn’t die, I am alright.”

“You almost did.”

“That’s-…”

His lip curls into a snarl and your eyes are drawn to the scar on the right side of his mouth, the scar you are responsible for. The process of healing from the deep cut you left that first day you were reunited was a slow one for him, especially because of how much you insisted on finding ways to make him smile and then grumble at the sting of a reopened cut. And now your eyes are drawn to that scar, watching it follow the movement of his mouth as it curls in anger.

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” He interrupts you, a gesture of his hand. “You made the wrong choice. You put yourself in danger when you didn’t need to.”

“If I hadn’t, most of my shieldmaidens would be dead now. We couldn’t fight them directly, Ivar, we had too many wounded.”

He walks past you, the stabs of the crutch on the ground still more forceful than they need to be, and pours himself some mead in one of the unused cups, his back to you.

A deep breath, and before he drinks he offers, “You should have left them behind.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You move to walk forward, but putting too much weight on your injured leg makes pain shoot through you. You falter, and you try hiding it but you know Ivar notices, judging by the way his eyes narrow.

Still, you insist, slowly walking closer, “What is a few shieldmaidens against all the people we went there to aid? It is a sacrifice we all were willing t-…”

He gestures with his free arm, stopping you, “Well it isn’t a sacrifice I’m willing to make! Not if it costs me you!”

You are stunned into silence, whatever words that were to leave your mouth dying on your lips with a gasp.

Ivar glares at you as if you were somehow responsible for him saying something he hadn’t meant to, a twitch of anger that makes his furrow his nose and his lips press together in a line.

He moves to one of the chairs by the fire, taking a few breaths through his nose that you are sure are meant to be calming but sound equally as angry as before.

You still have nothing to say, no words to leave your lips.

There’s a part of you that never let go of him in all those years you spent -grew- apart, and in these months you have spent with the army, leading your own forces under Ivar and his brothers’ commands, learning from them -from him- many things and offering a few tricks of your own, conquering new lands and fighting new battles; your foolish heart has started to speak of hopes that could never be, has started to feel light like it never did before, as if it and his own heart recognize each other even after all the years and the scars.

Ivar takes a breath, discarding the crutch on the chair by his side.

“I…I never forgot you, you know. Not when you left Kattegat, not when father died and we came to England, not-…I never forgot you,” His eyes linger on yours for a moment, before Ivar turns his head and looks back ahead, clear tell of gritted teeth as he confesses, “I kept an eye on you, through the years. I had men near Ribe when you and your brother fought for it so that they could tell me the outcome of the battle.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you slowly take a seat by his side.

“I…I never knew.”

“You weren’t supposed to,” He retorts without missing a beat, hesitating before continuing, “I always hoped we’d meet again. With what I’ve done, with what I’ve accomplished, I hoped that maybe I’d find you again and I could give you enough reasons to stay this time.”

Quietly, you offer, “I never wanted to leave.”

“I know that now,” He assures you, the slightest of movements of his head that you think was supposed to be a nod. Ivar’s eyes lift to yours, and he says, so low you almost miss it, “I just found you again, I can’t…I can’t lose you.”

You don’t know what to say, you don’t know how to put into words what his words are doing to your foolish heart, to the heart that has always been his.

“Ivar…” You start, not certain of what you’re trying to say.

But it doesn’t matter.

Ivar leans forward surprisingly quickly, pressing his lips against yours. The touch of his lips on yours is urgent and hurried, shaky and inexperienced; leaving behind wide blue eyes that look into yours as if desperate for an answer to a question that isn’t a question at all.

You sigh shakily, but your mouth trembles into a smile, and with barely a moment of hesitation, you cross the distance between you again and kiss him, this time deeply, this time eagerly, this time ardently.

There’s the desperation of having lost too much time without this in the way his hold on you is tight and frantic, there’s the anguish of having thought lost you forever in the way your name leaves him in a choked gasp when you part for air, there’s the relief and the elation of finally having you within reach in the way he doesn’t let your lips part from his for any moment, a faint sound of protest from somewhere deep in his chest whenever you pull away.

You finally part but don’t move too far, it seems both of you unwilling to let much space come between you. Breaths labored, you whisper,

“I have wanted to do that for a long time.”

“You have?”

In any other man the question would be a blatant seeking of praise, and maybe it is in him too, but there’s something else too, something more fragile, something more vulnerable. Like some part of him never ceased to be the boy you kissed before you were to leave Kattegat, like some part of him will never truly believe how wanted he can be, how loved.

“I never forgot you either, Ivar,” You confess quietly, lifting the hand you can and tracing the side of his face, the scar on his cheekbone, the scar you claim of your own over his lip. “I could never forget you.”

His smile is awed, and softer than you ever thought it could be, and more boyish than it should be allowed to be for the sake of your foolish heart, that skips a beat in your chest.

With the crackling of fire and the feel of him under your hands, you forget the passing of time, you forget the soreness of your body, you forget everything except him.

You exchange secrets and promises in the shape of kisses that linger always in between adoration and hunger; and after a while, with your fingers trailing absently over the scar on his mouth, you offer your regret.

“I was reckless,” You tell him, resisting the urge to curl the hand on the side of his face into a fist when you notice how much it trembles. “I…I should have retreated. I am sorry.”

“I was…I was stuck here, unable to do anything. I couldn’t go fight with you, I couldn’t go search for you,” There’s the familiar resentment -at the world, at Fate-, and you say nothing, but your hand moves towards the back of his neck and tries to offer a soothing caress. Ivar continues, “I can’t will my stupid legs to work as they should, but I can…I can keep you safe. You have to let me keep you safe.”

“You cannot keep me from death, no one can,” You remind him, before acquiescing, “I promise I…I will be more careful, I will not make pointless sacrifices.”

Even if it wasn’t pointless to you at the time, it is the best way you can word it.

And, judging by the faint and almost shaky nod Ivar offers in acceptance of your words, it was the right thing to say.

____

Ivar had planned to make the journey back to York and raid from there one more time, while matters about his plans to settle in the Isles are solved, and originally you were planning on going with him.

However, he insists you need to rest and heal so he won’t let you fight, and you insist being bedridden will only make you go mad, so you reach a compromise. You and Ivar discuss the details of the agreement as the healer checks the wound on your shoulder, and when he is to leave you notice the way he hesitates before he does, eyes travelling to your lips before meeting yours.

You smile, but then his pale eyes travel to the woman that is cleaning her hands with her back turned to the both of you, and you understand the question.

Being Ivar the Boneless’ woman is not something you would ever feel shame for being, or wish to hide, and though you do have your reservations about what it would mean as a commander of your own share of forces within the Great Army to be so close to one of the sons of Ragnar, you know no fear of rumors is with making Ivar believe you are ashamed of being his.

Instead of voicing your answer to the question he doesn’t ask, you just tilt your chin up, eyes on his.

Ivar’s smile is a tad on the shy side, a tad overwhelmed, but he still dutifully leans down and captures your mouth in his, promising to meet with you again after you’ve spent time with your warriors.

He leaves, and before long, as the healer changes the bandages on your leg and shoulder, you hear the familiar sounds of your friends settling again in the small home. It makes a pang of what you refuse to call regret go through your heart, at the thought of how easily accustomed they are to spending time at this home, waiting to know if you would survive or not.

You take a breath, and walk out to meet them.

Vígdís, one of the elder shieldmaidens, doesn’t even look up from the piece of chicken she is carefully pulling apart with her fingers as she states dryly, “I was betting he would kill you.”

“I’m glad you gals are on my side, really.”

Hlíf swallows a mouthful of chicken and points the drumstick at you, “Hey, I bet you’d kill him.”

You look at her with a frown before conceding, “Actually, that’s flattering.”

She offers a toothy smile, and encourages you, “Yeah, you could take him!”

Vígdís scoffs, “Oh, she wants to,” At your glare the older woman only shrugs one shoulder, “Or the other way around. You don’t have a preference, do you, Dane?”

“Anyhow,” You drawl out, turning to the others, “I suggest you prepare your belongings and say your goodbyes. We won’t raid with Ivar and Hvitserk in these lands, our forces are needed elsewhere. We will be travelling to East Anglia in a fortnight.”

Hlíf scoffs, “One hell of a spat you two had, huh?”

“Wh-…? You know, I really don’t want to hear it. Just…do what you must.”

“I’m just saying, your love life is taking us all over England, Dane.”

“Shut your mouth already.” You grumble, but Hlíf’s brazen laughter resonates in the small home.

____

In the days that go by -way too quickly for your liking- before you are to depart to East Anglia, you find yourself drunk on the foolish happiness of having within reach what you never truly thought you’d have.

It is three nights before you leave that in the quiet of your shared room Ivar presses his lips to yours with a softness that is jarringly unlike him, and breathed over your lips the most hushed I love you.

It was that same night that you tangled your fingers in his hair and drew him back against you, not able or willing to resist the temptation to flick your tongue over the scarred side of his lip to make one of those choked little sounds leave his lips; and when he kissed you back hungrily pulled back to promise the same, just as softly even if you vowed it fiercely, I love you.

And now you are to depart. Standing in the stables and watching as your shieldmaidens and warriors finish loading their belongings and the supplies for the road.

Ivar is next to you, leaning against a wall with an arm secured around your waist and allowing you to rest slightly on his chest.

“Take some of my men with you.” He insists, for what must be the thousandth time since you made the agreement to part until the last month of the spring.

“I don’t need protection,” You remind him, leaning back a bit so you can see his face, “If I remember correctly, and I do, last time it was you who needed help from me.”

“I didn’t need help.”

“Of course not, love.”

Ivar takes a deep breath at your mocking tone, choosing instead to insist, “Just take those men with you.”

“No.” You tell him, one last pat of your hand on his chest before you turn to walk away.

Before you can pull away his free hand grasps yours, and you easily give in to the slight pull, turning back to met him and stepping closer again.

Ivar tilts his head down so he can look you in the eye, something dark and tempting shining through his expression as his mouth curves into a crooked smile.

“I thought wives are supposed to obey their husbands?”

Your heart does a foolish thing in your chest, beating out of rhythm as if trying to leave your chest and burrow into his. Still, you stare him down with your head tilted to the side, and all the answer you offer is a dry reminder,

“‘Countless sons and daughters’, Ivar. If we are holding each other accountable for those promises, we ought to start there.”

He wants to argue, you know he does. And you aren’t entirely convinced some of the warriors that join your forces because they want to aid Ubbe are there at all for him, but you have no evidence, so you shut your mouth and just make sure to keep an eye on them.

As you expected, they act as your bodyguards, no matter how much you try pushing them away.

And so time passes, and in your time on the road towards Soham you are able to heal well enough, slowly getting back to training with Hlíf and Vígdís. And by the time you reach Soham, where Ubbe awaits support to hold on to the city, you are able to fight once again.

And how you dearly missed it.

Time becomes a blur after that. Soham proves to be more difficult to hold than expected, and so your forces remain a while longer before moving to Dunwich where you manage to take over relatively easy, since the Saxon forces retreated from the coastal city.

The years made you capable, and the Gods made you arrogant.

Which is why, as the warriors from Dunwich start retreating, following their Lord’s commands, you, standing still close enough to the edges of the frontlines that Saxons scurry around you, take a knee and pretend to catch your breath.

The footsteps behind you are predictable, and you tighten your hold on the shield. When the warrior gets close enough and tries striking, you lift your shield, catching his arm on the edge of it as you stand up.

You twist your arm holding on to the shield, feeling the strain in his own and hearing his surprised scream of pain.

It snaps out of place under the strain, and satisfied, you let go of him with a push. He stumbles forward and tries grabbing onto a dropped sword with his uninjured arm, and you let him.

Readying your stance, you notice two others refuse to retreat as well now that their countryman is fighting, but make no notice of them as you stride forward, driving your sword through him, ignoring his pitiful attempt at deflecting it.

You approach the other two, shield tightly grasped, and push back against the strike of the first one against your shield, deflecting the sword of the second one with your own.

Making use of your smaller size, you quickly spin in your place and slash the neck of one of them, lifting your shield just in time to stop the attack of the second one.

But he lets out a grunt, falls down before you can kill him. The Saxon falls on his face, an axe protruding from his back.

You lift your eyes to meet those of an unfamiliar warrior, who stands proudly and offers you a nod.

“You’re welcome.”

Walking past him and not bothering to hide your distaste, you insist, “I didn’t need any help, and certainly not from you.”

He proves to be more insistent than you would have thought, and for too many nights you have to bear him sitting close by to you, trying to impress you with one tale or another. The man is unbearably persistent on either bedding you or courting you, and as the days go by after the fight for Dunwich, he proves to not be the only one.

Until, eventually, you can’t take it anymore.

____

“I’m going to need an explanation for that.” Hlíf asks, a broad smile on her lips and eyes shining with mirth.

You grit your teeth and start walking away, but of course she follows.

The winds of East Anglia are biting, and the ground under your feet is still softer and so different than that of your home, but in the time that has passed since you and your warriors joined the Great Army you have learned to be as familiar with this foreign land of England as you once were with your own.

Granted, the incessant waves at the coast and the ever-present sea salt in the air that characterize Dunwich are not something you are planning on getting used to any time soon. You really just want to get back to York.

“I shouldn’t have saved her ass at Soham.” You mutter to yourself, even if you know you don’t mean it.

“I heard that!”

“You proved you have ears, congratulations.”

She skips the few steps she was lagging behind, walking at your side and matching your stride with a wide grin that you choose to ignore.

“Thank you, but I’m married,” She quotes, the mirth coming through in her voice, and she laughs to herself, “Gods above, Dane, what kind of answer is that?”

“He was insistent, and I couldn’t exactly fist fight one of Ubbe’s trusted men,” You explain, your voice a grumble when you add, “Tis not my fault if the prick heard I was a princess and suddenly decided he needed to have me.”

“You sure it was your title? After seeing you fight when we took this city, I’m not surprised so many want you.”

“Hey, I appreciate the compliment, don’t get me wrong,” You quip, sparing a glance to her, “But if you’re trying to court me, I’m afraid it will go as well as it did for Olvir.”

On her lips grows once again the mischievous and devilish smile, and the shieldmaiden tilts her head to the side as she says, “Oh, I know that, because you’re married.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why lie?”

“It wasn’t a lie.”

“If you think you’re making sense, prepare for disappointment.”

You shrug your shoulders, “It’s…complicated.”

“Well, the whole camp will soon hear about you telling Olvir you’re married, so we might as well get the story right: are you taken, Dane?”

Blunt, and to the point, not that you expected anything different from Hlíf.

You consider your words before answer, slowly, “Yes.”

She chuckles, shoulder knocking against yours playfully, “Ah, so who is the fool that has your heart but isn’t staking a claim?”

“He has, you just haven’t noticed.”

She stops walking, and so you too stop, turning to look at her wide eyes and offering a shrug of your shoulders again.

“You mean…” You nod, and past the surprise she finds it in her to laugh, shaking her head in amazement, “Oh, you really are a mad woman, aren’t you?”

“Well, we are technically married. I can’t turn my back on a bond before the Gods, right?”

She shakes her head with a chuckle, “So that is why you have been so insufferable, you miss York. I just thought you really hated East Anglia.”

“I really hate East Anglia.”

“Of course, Dane.”

____

You return to York as dawn breaks, and you don’t have time to get off your horse before Hvitserk is standing there, arms crossed over his chest and leaning with one shoulder on the entrance to the stables.

He offers his older brother a nod of his head as greeting, but Ubbe passes him by and Hvitserk keeps his eyes on you.

He blurts out, “You are married?”

“Hello to you too. I am glad to see you alive and well, dear Hvitserk.”

“You are married.”

You look at him, at his smug little smile and his warm eyes shining with mirth, and take a deep breath.

“You should know, you were there at the wedding.”

His sniggering laughter follows you as you walk away, but you forget your irritation quite quickly as you find Ivar in the rustle of movement, determined and uneven steps carrying him towards you.

Your smile is wide and lovesick and foolish, but you do not care for hiding it. His is quieter, more secret, but it doesn’t fail to make your heart skip a beat in your chest.

Ivar’s free hand grasps at the back of your neck once you are close enough, bringing your mouth to his with urgency, quickly letting the kiss become passionate as he slips his tongue into your mouth. Your hands find purchase on his hips, and more than ever you hate the armor that doesn’t let you feel him his warmth, his strength- under your fingers.

“I missed you.” You whisper quietly when you part, your brow pressed against his.

He blinks his eyes open, more than a little dazed, and the look in his eyes -the need, the adoration, the everything- makes a pang of heat go through you, threaten to set you alight with only a look.

“And I you.” He finally tells you, quiet voice rough.

You barely have time to be alone with Ivar before obligations pull you apart, a feast to welcome back the forces Ubbe and the Princess of Ribe, a reunion to exchange tales of victory and be together with those that were missed in the months apart.

Granted, that means that they don’t let you be together with the one you missed the most in those months apart, but you don’t have it in you to complain. Except you do, but that is not the point.

The night dies down and you roll your eyes at a few pointed toasts in congratulations for your marriage, but remain sitting at your place beside Ivar, pretending not to notice his hand on your knee or his arm around the back of your chair.

You grab his hand when it starts trailing up your leg and making you feel the effects of his touch like lightning crawling over your skin, and you could swear the smug bastard chuckles at the way you have to stop him.

“Eh, sister!” Hvitserk calls out, and with gritted teeth you turn to look at him, sitting by Sigurd’s side with an arm over his brother’s shoulders, “I am glad you are back, truly.”

“Thank you, Hvitserk.” You tell him, immediately feeling like you are about to regret accepting he doesn’t mean to tease you any longer.

“If only because I cannot stand my brother’s moping any longer. Who would have thought a son of Ragnar would be so loyal to his wife?”

You dismiss him with a gesture, but you cannot help but chuckle alongside the others.

Ivar turns his head towards you, nose almost nuzzling at your hair as he moves closer to speak by your ear,

“Why did you tell people you’re married?”

You don’t lift your gaze from your joined hands, following the trace of your fingers as they trace over the back of Ivar’s hand, “So that they would leave me alone.”

“No one is leaving you alone now that they think you are my wife.”

You spare him a look, glancing up, “The men that insist on either bedding me or courting me will, and that is enough for me.”

Ivar, of course, clings only to part of the words you speak, and his voice lowers, expression hardened with what you would swear is jealousy -pointless, unfounded, stupid jealousy- as he asks,

“Who are these men?”

Your eyes narrow, you honestly cannot believe this man.

“Are you serious right now?”

“I just want to know who they are.”

“I-…” Running your free hand through over your face, you bite back a groan, “Everyone thinks we are married now, shouldn’t you be worrying about that?”

He shrugs, “You were the one that told them you are married.”

“You are the one that I told them I’m married to!” You tell him, exasperated. He says nothing, and in the two blinks that he offers you somehow find it in you to be even more offended, “You truly are not worried?”

“Why should I be?”

Slowly, you remind him, “We are not actually married, Ivar.”

He shrugs, “We could be.”

“But we aren’t.”

“But we could be.” He insists easily.

Deep breaths, you tell yourself, taking a moment to bite back irritation, you love him, even when he is being intentionally insufferable.

“Is this your way of asking me to marry you?”

“You seem to have done that for me already,” He replies instead, raised eyebrows and another shrug of his shoulders that only makes you angrier. “You seem to have done more than that.”

You sigh, and shake your head at his mocking, only to make him chuckle at your reaction. Gods, he is infuriating.

Ivar’s smile loses the mocking edge as he leans even close, pressing a soft kiss by the side of your mouth in an attempt to make you stop pretending to be angry.

“What’s the harm in that, hm?” He asks, eyes falling from yours to your lips when you finally turn your head to face him, “They know you’re mine now.”

You almost want to argue there’s no way they wouldn’t know judging by the way the two of you have been joined at the hip since you returned from Dunwick, but you won’t deny a part of you grows darkly proud at knowing everyone knows he is yours and yours alone.

“And you are mine.” You remind him lowly, the beginning of a smile on your lips. His eyes linger on the curve of your mouth, lids growing a little heavier at your words and tone, and you have never felt more powerful.

Ivar nods his head,

“I am, wife.”

____

As you come down from both of your highs you find out Ivar is as unwilling to relinquish the closeness as you are, and in between soft touches and breathed presses of lips on heated skin, you find a kind of peace you never realized how much you missed.

“I was thinking,” He starts, and you cannot stop yourself from teasing him, so you let out a soft, uh-oh, and he scoffs, biting down on the side of your neck in retaliation, “We will be settled in the Isles by next winter.”

Ivar pulls back to look at you, holding himself up on one of his arms. At the strange expression in his pale eyes, you reach up with one hand and caress the side of his face under the guise of moving his hair back.

“We will.”

“Let’s go back to Kattegat,” He tells you, a tad rushed, “For this winter. Let’s spend one last winter in Kattegat.”

“Are you homesick, love?” You drawl, a side smile that he rolls his eyes at.

“What do you say?”

You search his gaze, because something tells you there’s more to the question, more to the action of spending your winter in Kattegat.

You won’t lie and pretend you haven’t missed the town, you won’t lie and pretend the memories you made there aren’t still with you, kept safe by some nostalgic and soft part of your heart.

Fate has a funny way of working, you’ve learned, and time brought you back to the side of the boys you made so many of those memories alongside of. Time brought back to you the cadence of Sigurd’s voice as he hums in par with his oud, time brought back to you Ubbe’s easy companionship as you train together, time brought back to you the secret smiles you share with Hvitserk over a joke only the two of you know of. Time brought back to you the one you’ve loved since before you even knew what love was, brought back to you the heart that your own finds itself familiar with.

But there is a part of you that misses Kattegat and always will, the sinuous streets of your childhood, the foreign scents and sounds of the bubbling market.

Instead of giving your answer outright -you always did like making things harder than they have to be-, you muse aloud,

“Having married you when we were children should keep me safe from your mother’s wrath, shouldn’t it?”

“Wrath?”

You let your fingers trace over the scar over his lip, the one you are very much responsible for. In these last few months, you’ve grown quite fascinated with it, with how it stretches when he smiles one of those big and crooked smiles, and especially with how Ivar trembles when you run your tongue over it before kissing him.

But that is not the point.

The point is you are very much responsible for at least one of the new scars Aslaug’s youngest son bears, and she will know, and she will look at you in that way you remember from your younger years. It is enough to make a grown woman shiver.

Ivar chuckles as he understands your hesitation, “You don’t need to fear her.”

“Easy for you to say.” You scoff.

“And if I tell you she still remembers fondly that childish wedding? Will you agree to come then, hm?”

“No,” At his frustrated sigh you tighten your fingers on his hair in silent reprimand, “Now I know you’re just saying that to appease me.”

“I would never.” Ivar mocks, earning another tug of his hair that he breathes a laugh at. You don’t fail to notice the way the laugh stutters a bit past his lips, you are very much aware of your effect of your hands on him.

Said effect is very much evidenced in the way he doesn’t resist the temptation to lean down and steal your breath with the slowest of kisses, his nose nudging against yours softly before he speaks again, voice low,

“What if it wasn’t just that wedding?”

“W-What?”

His eyes open to look into yours, an edge of anxiety, of hesitation, that he -of course- pushes past anyways, clearing his throat and asking, “What if there were something more…permanent than that wedding from our childhood?”

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

“A second and last time.” He vows, a quirk of his mouth that speaks of jest but does nothing to hide the apprehension that shines in his eyes.

There was never anyone else, not for you and not for him.

Your answer leaves your lips in a breath that Ivar doesn’t hesitate to taste against your lips, with a gentleness that speaks of adoration and desperation, stealing your breath much in the same way he stole your heart.

____

Aslaug almost wants to laugh at the irony that it was the youngest of her boys that was the first one the be married, not once, but two times. And, surprising only those that don’t know him well enough, to the same woman both times.

Older but still holding that arrogant pride at the announcement -the same pride she saw in him when you walked Kattegat’s streets with your hand in Ivar’s- Ivar sat down in front of her and told her he had found a woman he wanted to marry.

And her heart felt a surge of a warmth she had long since missed with all her sons fighting their wars and their father’s across the sea; not willing or capable to hold back the wide smile that blossomed in her face.

Her hands cupped her son’s face, and the small, almost shy smile he offered her reminded her so much of the boy he once was. She promised her blessing and vowed how proud she was, and in silence, as she looked into her youngest son’s eyes, she thanked the Gods for being allowed to live to see this, to see him happy.

She knows there are so many twists of Fate that have let this happen. She knows -like she knows the streets of her kingdom- of the paths their son’s life could have taken, almost took. She knows of yours, and what could have been.

Even if she hadn’t heard of your close encounter with death in England, she would have the moment she was forced to see in her dreams what had happened across the sea, she would have the moment she saw the way it still haunted Ivar today.

For almost two weeks she dreamt of her son’s voice, the same repeated pleas to the Gods -to whatever would listen- said so many times his voice grew ragged and broke. Still, he did the one thing he could, and pleaded with the Gods for more time, for anything other than this.

He needn’t know she went to the Volür and they all made a sacrifice praying with the Gods to give a Dane shieldmaiden strength and health. He needn’t know, and he won’t.

Because it is past now, and you have healed and learned, and he has healed too. And there is no use in resurfacing pain in an occasion such as this.

Kattegat is lively even as winter approaches fast and cruel, the flurry of motion increased even more now that a Prince is to get married.

Your smile is the same mad little smile she remembers from your younger years in Kattegat, and Helga’s hands are more worn and her smile is a tad dimmer, but her fingers are still nimble and gentle as they braid the wedding crown of winter flowers.

Aslaug feels the pull of emotion when Ivar cups your face between trembling hands and kisses his wife for the first time, she feels the tears prickling at her eyes at the lovesick smiles on your faces as you remain in that moment after a kiss for a few breaths, eyes locked together and futures intertwined.

Ubbe stands tall as he watches his younger brother get married, and Aslaug’s heart grows warm at the easy smile that curves her son’s lips. She still cannot help herself, and finds herself hoping before winter is over and her sons are to depart from her side again, that she can see him with a woman by his side as well. For too long Ubbe carried a burden he shouldn’t have, shouldering the brunt of the world for the sake of his brothers, a boy trying to stand as tall as the man that left an absence in his place after Paris. Even if she once argued she cares not if they find love as long as they find a good woman to breed and form a family with, she holds the secret hope that she can see Ubbe happily settled with someone that he can love.

She hopes the same for Hvitserk, who watches the ceremony with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, but she knows better than to expect him to settle anytime soon. Before the celebratory feast is halfway over, he has teasingly held a young girl to his side and exclaimed, mother, I am getting married as well, three times, with three different women. She doesn’t hold much hope he will settle soon, and has to bite her tongue and tell herself she is happy for him even if he insists on sleeping his way through Kattegat.

Reluctantly, she admits it is Sigurd who might follow in Ivar’s footsteps and marry next. He and that Christian girl have been promised to one another for years now, and the excuse of war and distance has kept them safe from their obligations to marry. But Aslaug knows it is a matter of time. For all her demure and shy nature, Blaeja’s eyes shine with something like amazement as she takes in the wedding ceremony even if a faint blush covers her face at yours and Ivar’s displays of affection. And she won’t pretend she doesn’t notice the way Sigurd lingers close to the princess, irradiating that gentleness of him that Aslaug is still regretful for having made so fragile in her carelessness.

Winter lets her have all her sons with her, though she knows it is probably the last time. Ivar has plans to settle in the Isles, the title of king and the promise of advantageous positions for his war against Alfred enough of a lure to keep her son across the sea; Ubbe has intentions to settle and take families with him to England even if he has to wade through blood to do so, Sigurd won’t stay too long away from his princess anymore, and Hvitserk will nevr bear to stay apart from his brothers.

But she has this winter, and it is enough. She will sit with her sons and have dinner while they talk and argue and laugh, and she will hear Ivar and Sigurd go for each other’s throats as if they haven’t spent these years fighting side by side, and she will watch you and Ivar get drunk on nothing but each other, and she will thank the Gods for all of it.

____ ____ ____

Thank you for reading, I apologize if this isn’t very good, I tried my best. Love ya!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless @encounterthepast @maggiescarborough @chibisgotovalhalla @fae-sedai @zuxiezendler @crazybunnyladysworld @stupiddarkkside @northumbria @aprilivar

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar

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jabberjawjade · 3 years

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Oh sorry I thought it was the same as for your main 😐🤭 but In letters A F G I J K M N O V Y Z (the ones that inspire you the most tho) -Sarah

it's okay!! i don't take requests on this account, but this will be the only exception {you should feel special lol} since i haven't seen this for howie and you requested let's get to it: 18+ only, minors dni

p.s.: i included some other letters in here and well ... i hope you like it 🌸

A: again

Like I said before, I'm convinced he's a baby virgin/beginner level 1 at sex {same 💀 ANYWAYS} he'd prob be more comfortable receiving in the beginning, especially if you're trying diff positions. I can imagine when you take him in and start thrusting he feels a budding orgasm already. He just whimpers and says "again" with what energy he does have left while holding onto you.

F: face

Omg, he's so pretty. His cheeks have been pink since foreplay and as you go on they turn a deep shade of red. His hair is a little sweaty and messy from you pulling on it and rummaging your fingers through it. His lips are wet {from what, i'll leave that to your imagination} but they're plump and pink, begging for more attention. His eyes are so many things but most of all, beautiful. They're filled with this passion and hunger. You could be doing the most vile thing and they'd still look so kind. Him doing the ahegao face {minus the tongue out though bc i can't see that}.

H: hands + hair

All over you. Wherever he can reach: your hands, hips, ass. It doesn't matter. He loves to caress your thighs though. Second favorite spot would prob be your chest or butt. Bc his hands are so big he loves to fondle with your boobs or just run his hand over the curve of your ass. Also, loves it when you run your hands over his body. He's pretty buff and I know he's got a nice ass so gimme those cheeks 🍑🤲🏾 Prob intertwines his fingers with yours if he can. Def holds your hands after you two are done, such a cuddle bug 💕 In terms of hair, I don't think he would care if you shaved or not. He'd prob tell you it was your body and that he loves you "no matter what you look like". He would ask you though if you wanted him to shave bc he's so considerate.

K: kiss

Loves to kiss you after one of you cums or has an orgasm. It's messy. There's tongue and drool. Sometimes he'll get his timing wrong and kiss you while he's still orgasming or cumming. You'll feel him moan in your mouth, then he'll bury his head in the crook of your neck and say your name until he's finished.

M: messy + markings

You're most likely his first everything 🥺 which is so cute. He doesn't have much experience so he doesn't really know what his body can do: like how much cum he has and how it can drip out of your hole if it's too much. Forget the towel, you might as well wash the sheets. I don't see him as a biter but he loves to be bitten or maybe not bc of the whole zombie apocalypse ... maybe leave a hickey instead lol. You'd prob have markings on you though from how tight he grips your hips. He'd kiss them afterward and prob rub lotion or smthn on them.

N: nicknames

Okay, this was a last minute add on but if you named his dick 👀 since he's an aspiring actor though imagine naming it after a movie or an actor. When you two are out and one of you is really horny you just say "Have you seen the new DiCaprio movie?" or "We should watch Training Day or Seven Pounds?" Wait, what if it was nicknamed Seven Pounds bc it's seven inches.. I'm gonna stop now 😂

** i thought it was really cool that howie wanted to be like denzel washington bc 1. representation and 2. he is also very handsome :)

V: vocal

He's prob quiet at first bc he doesn't wanna be too loud. He prob got that habit from masturbating too, like he was always quiet bc he didn't want anyone to hear him. But after a while, he just can't hold back and he is very vocal. I don't think he'd be so loud where others could hear you but he'd def make noises for sure. Between moaning, groaning, chanting your name, and cussing 🤧 yeah.. ooh and I know the devs paint him as a clean cut kinda guy but he would have a sailor's mouth during sex. A lot of "ahh, fuck" and "shit i'm gon- fuck," as he continues to thrust into you. Most likely he would do certain things without knowing it, like body worshipping "you feel so good (y/n)".

p.p.s: this was hot i was already kinda horny but shiiiiiitt

#howie yan smut #fictif roadkill #roadkill howie #fictif howie headcanons #howie yan #jade's juice #jade's journal

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spooksverse-asks · 2 years

Text

Spooksverse Fashion Posts: Kyle Stewart

Continuing on with the fashion posts, we have Kyle’s~! Not going to lie, even if his style is a little more simple compared to his friend’s, it is still a lot of fun to think about in it’s own ways, like with some of the ‘retro’ pieces he has and how his friends often joke about him dressing like a dad/old man on the daily lol. Basically kind of the preppy rich kid aesthetic, but with some more fun and colorful outfits since he’s still a nerd when it comes to the older retro trends of bright neon colors. I hope you enjoy! :3

The previous ones: Shadow, Suzie)

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

Kyle’s style growing up was very preppy and country club-esque, fitting his richer and private school background, however as he is much older now he has branched out his style a bit to be more casual and fun, but still with the same kind of vibes as before. Polos, short-sleeve button-up shirts, long-sleeve button-ups in fun patterns with the sleeves rolled up, sweater vests, plain undershirts, and simple cardigans and sweaters. A fan of wearing polos or sweaters over longer button-ups, so the collar, sleeves, and hem are showing. Long khaki shorts, khaki pants, colorful dress pants and shorts, skinny joggers, skinny jeans and any fitted jeans cuffed at the ankle with visible fun socks showing. As a fan of vintage/retro trends from the 1900s he does have a few pieces from the different fashion eras, such as one leather jacket from when his high school did Grease the musical(also because Grease is his favorite movie with the greaser era having been one of his favorites to learn about), and a variety of different windbreaker jackets in various patterns, vaporwave, and neon colors. For shoes he is a fan of anything comfy, such as casual loafers, slip-ons, moccasins, Birkenstock/Jesus-styled sandals, one pair of bright crocs with pins, and a few pairs of fun-colored sneakers with one pair of plain blue ones.

For colors, he is not super picky as he loves a variety of them, but his favorite and main color would be salmon, in a more orange-leaning hue than pink. Usually wears light and pale colors on a daily basis with his more preppy outfits, but when he gets to go out and have fun while dressing up more casually he likes wearing brighter and bolder colors, like in neon shades that are not too eye-straining paired with simple black or white pieces. Likes any hue, though his favorites tend to be salmon/pink, red, green, and blue but does not mind bolder purple and orange at times. Denim pieces usually come in medium-darker blues, but he does have a couple that are in different bright pastel colors. Honestly enjoys clothes that seem ‘ugly’ with clashing colors and patterns, but he does like it when they are more tasteful and he usually wears them as staple pieces. Most of his pieces are clean and solid colors, minus his windbreakers, fun-patterned button-ups, and a couple pairs of shoes, where he does not care what the pattern or design is as long as it is cute and fun to him. Material is usually light and breathable, as he tends to get overwhelmed and warm quickly in some heavier fabrics, but he does have a couple of baggy hoodies that he “borrowed” from his boyfriend, though while they fit they appear a bit shorter on him because he is considerably taller.

For accessories, he actually does not wear them much but he does own a few pieces of jewelry. Simple chain necklaces and bracelets, bright and colorful smart watches, and belts as his main accessory, ranging from simple leather, colorful and patterned, and a couple designer ones, one that was a gift and one he bought after saving up his own money. As well, he also got his ears pierced just recently, preferring to wear only small studs, whether they be simple diamonds or a couple of cute and fun ones that Suzie picked out for him when they go shopping together.

For his hair, it has always been thick and shaggy, being a lot shorter when he was a child but he has grown it out some(though is thinking about getting it cut shorter again in the future). Because it is a little unmanageable all he really does to it is comb and brush it, but he does try to gel it back for more formal events to make it at least a little nicer. Being a member of the drama club and thus a little bit of a theater kid, he is pretty comfortable wearing makeup but tends to only wear it when on-stage, unless he lets his female friends experiment looks on him. Struggled with acne a bit when puberty first hit him and is still prone to breaking out, but he does make sure to wash his face everyday and he does wear some light foundation and concealer to cover up any pimples that are left. As his mother is the president of a pretty big and successful salon and spa business, he is quite used to all the different treatments that are offered and loves being able to relax and take care of his body in that way, even offering free spa trips for his friends when he can. Does not mind having his nails painted but only with simple polish, as with his anxiety habits and impatient-ness his nails tend to get chipped and after a while he would tend to just pull gel polish off. Does not mind wearing cologne, but really only for special occasions and in cleaner and lighter scents so he does not get overwhelmed.

- Some inspirations:

#spooksverse #oc #fashion #fashion headcanons #ngl it was a pain trying to find some of the reference pics for these #but still fun!#kyle stewart #kyle

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tariah23 · 2 years

Text

My bro and I were talking about Sasuke and he was giving me the top 10 reasons as to why he never liked him (they all suck lolll but we were joking around. In general, I don’t care if people dislike characters I like I really could care less and I’ll even agree with you and laugh at them myself if I know that other people are right like I still like them) and then he randomly mentioned the characters he dislikes the most, one being danzo (everyone hates him though, duh), and Hinata. That, we definitely agreed on. I never hated her, I don’t hate most of the characters that most ppl dislike like what, itachi (sorry man I’ve been a fan of his for forever but he’s still a mess 🚶🏾‍♀️) and stuff I don’t care man to each their own, but when it comes to like Hinata, lol. I just kinda always found her to be boring as hell. She’s cute! But man. I like shy characters and you can do so much with them but Hinata was just there for most of the series… and the whole thing with Neji dying for plot for the sake of NH made me go 🤕 @ her even more if I’m being honest. Like I’ve never gotten over this. Characters like Sakura and Hinata make me wish that Ino and a few others were pushed into the forefront more… Ino was actually really sweet to me and I’ve said this before but I’ve always liked her dynamic with her team since they felt like genuine friends? But at the same time, Ino was always written off by Shikamaru whenever it came to the more serious stuff (underestimation? Idk. It’s not like we got to see their team together a WHOLE lot but I liked the early moments in part 1 with them I guess. Kishimoto just didn’t care about her though. None of the girls were ever included into Naruto’s all boy friend group either like 🚶🏾‍♀️. That’s how far off Kishimoto’s pushed her and the others.) She got pushed to the side because Kishimoto probably didn’t know what to do with her despite preforming all sorts of stunts and doing all sorts of backflips for Shikamaru’s character (no shade against him since I like Shikamaru still minus the misogyny 🚶🏾‍♀️), but you know what I mean. Like there’s so many male characters in Naruto who don’t have crazy abilities that stick out or might not be as physical gifted as far as combat is concerned outside of basic ninja shit that even academy level kids could probably do but they’ll still get more attention than the girls even if they’re in the same lane. It’ll always be funny as hell to me.

#like kishimoto lolll #rambling #stupid stupid stupid

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hetalia-has-a-secretary · 3 years

Note

kids au? or better human au? I do not know, but the allies and the axis are reunited with their first love s / o. To which they never managed to confess what they felt and S / o is better than they remembered. Some headcanons of the school time in the past and of the reunion of both.

This is a Hallmark AU (Hallmark is an American channel that has the most romantic, but cheesiest and slightly annoying romance movies. I'm talking like, that one miscommunication that messes up the almost official relationship, despite both the man and woman finally getting along after they tried to dislike each other even though it was painfully obvious they liked each other). But yeah, this would be a Human AU lol.

Allies an Axis reconnect with S/O!

Allies:

America:

His heart and body stopped dead on the college campus.

Standing in front of him was S/O. Someone he hasn't seen in years.

They had moved away the day he was going to admit his feelings to them.

He remembers the times they ran across the road they lived in, and played underneath a tree in the field.

He remembered the one time they cut open their knee, and he had to carry them back home. Even though they could still walk, he wanted to be their hero.

Time skip back to the present, they were back!

He ran to them full speed, and hugged them, telling them how much they missed them, and how much he loved them.

"Alfred? Alfie!?"

He sputtered as he realized what he had admitted too, and hearing the childhood nickname brought blush to his face.

His S/O smiled and pulled him in, repeating his vows of affection.

England:

He scoffed at the group of people who were being a bit too rowdy in the town library.

He eventually had enough and was about to ask them to tone it down when he caught sight of a familiar face.

His S/O was standing in a group of their friends. Their happy aura making them twice as lovely as they were the day the had to go back to their hometown. Supposedly to help an old friend.

It seemed that even back then they spent most of their time reading the worst rated books to each other.

Joining all the little craft fairs the librarians held at the establishment. He still has the bracelet S/O made him.

He had to swallow the lump in his throat. Eyes eventually locking.

S/O had excused themselves from their group, and immediately ran to him, hesitating to hug him.

Arthur stopped them from doing so, and for some reason did the most cheesiest thing. He kissed the knuckles to their hand. No turning back now.

He complimented them, saying they looked just as beautiful they day he wanted to admit his feelings to them.

He was lucky they felt the same.

France:

He spent his whole college career trying to make it into the modeling industry.

He had books and books of clothing designs to submit, but all had failed. And he was left working as a barista in some shady coffee shop.

He sighed as he heard the bell ding, a new customer who would probably complain about the mucky drinks.

But as he turned he was immediately taken back to the day his S/O first moved to town.

They lived across the street from him, and his S/O had turned around seeing him standing on the sidewalk, getting the mail.

They had both shyly waved to each other, and for a few days Francis left them small gifts, too shy to talk to them face to face, and never able to tell them his feelings.

But now, they're standing in front of him.

They hadn't recognized them, but he was so lost in thought the only thing he could manage was to wave at them

That waved must have rang a bell Because his S/O went "Wait- Are you the kid from across the street? The one who left me like, a pink paper airplane on my porch?"

His face went 50 shades of red as he started spitting out excuses and apologies.

After taking his order, he noticed they left their receipt behind. And a cell number.

China:

Balance. Focus. Deep breathing.

All things Yào had for his martial arts training in the park. He was working on his Tai chi when some stranger's dog had ran under his legs, knocking him over.

All he could hear was someone apologizing, finally getting control of their dog.

He shot up to yell at the stranger but something stopped him.

The stranger looked painfully familiar, so once introductions were made, it dawned on him.

It was S/O. The two of them use to hide away from the other kids in grade school. He was the only asian in their class so he got picked on by everyone but S/O.

They had found an abandoned shack in the woods and they cleaned it up, making it their own. A base to go to when they were troubled.

Yào cracked a smile at them, and teased them about how he use to have a crush on them, a way to see how they felt.

He couldn't stop the blush that came with S/O admitting to crushing back at him.

Russia:

He had met his S/O in his second year of College. It was unexpected.

They had came into the school year almost half way through so they seemed extremely lost.

Knowing how akward and hard it was to be in that situation he built up the courage to try and talk to them.

"E-excuse me. Do you need the- to be- shown round school?"

His broken english wasn't as bad as it once was, but his nerves caught up to him. Even hearing S/O laugh made his heart flutter.

He was surprised when it wasn't at him, and when they said yes- his stomach was doing backflips.

That was then, this is now. He had to go back to Russia, and they had said their goodbyes, thinking they'd never see each other again.

But after a year or so he decided to move back to America. Back to the town that gave him so much.

He'd be lying if he wasn't hoping to meet his S/O and maybe, just maybe, admit to what he felt.

He already knew S/O wanted to work at a certain place in town, so when he got the chance he went straight there.

To his sadness though, they weren't there. Nor did they ever work there.

Passing by the campus he was surprised at what he saw.

They were still in college?

Turns out a few class credits from high school didn't take, so they were slowly working on earning them back.

But the reunion was a welcomed one. Both had run into each other's arms at the sight. Ivan immediately showing confidence and asking if they were dating anyone.

"No, why?"

"Well, now you can be dating! Me, da?"

The smile his S/O was all he needed for a yes.

Axis:

Germany:

His college days were long behind him, including his dating days.

They were on his mind often, and even though he never told S/O how he felt, in his heart the time they spent together was all he needed to satisfy him.

That was until one day someone called his construction company to help get a roof fixed.

There was something about their voice that sent an odd, familiar sensation down his spine.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he went to the site himself.

The person who opened the door was S/O

The same person who helped him bring Feli to the nurse's office when he was "accidentally" pushed down some stairs.

They helped Luddy calm his anger and nerves over the days Feli had to recover from a fractured ankle and a broken finger.

Now he stood at the door, just as pleasantly stunned as S/O.

They hit it off like they weren't apart the last 5 years.

Japan:

His heart sank the day his parents were rejected the ability to go to America.

The day they were supposed to fly in, was the day someone in an office lost track of some documents. Preventing them from even getting a green light to even go.

Even with the sad news, it wasn't going to stop him. He made all the calls he could, and decided to take a break after two hours.

Walking through town he soon spotted someone working outside at a cafe.

It was an old friend of his. It was S/O.

He wasn't planning on eating just yet, but he had to know for sure if it was them.

Years ago they had ran into him, more literally than metaphorically, and since then they would hang out when they could.

One specific memory was during high school, and they decided to play tennis. He couldn't help but laugh as his S/O got the ball stuck in the fencing more than once.

Sitting down, he waited for someone to take his orders.

To his surprise his waiter was S/O, who recognized him off the bat.

Deciding to take their break early, they got them and Kiku their desired food, and chatted.

Before going back in the clock, Kiku had asked them when they could talk next.

His S/O gave a day and address, and said "So it's a date then?"

Kiku could do nothing but blush and nod, maybe a bit more agressively than he wanted too.

Italy:

Deep breaths. One step at a time, he tells himself. The very first day of middle school.

He was always a really shy kid, especially at school.

He can be a bit loud at times but he's really a gentle soul with a heart of gold

Sometimes, even in your own country, that can get you looked down upon. Sometimes it just takes someone from the outside to remember there's more on the horizon.

He first met his S/O (a transfer student for the next couple years) the first day school started. He was already too nervous, but his S/O saw the amount of alone time he has, minus his brother being near by, and decided to try and make friends.

The conversation went okay, the language barrier being a slight set back, but the more they hung out, the easier both of their languages became. By the time his S/O left, they were pretty fluent and Bilingual.

It's been almost years since then, but he spotted his S/I, ironically, the first day of College.

They were unmistakable from their signature laugh, and Feli had gained a lot of courage talking to people since he met them.

Tapping them on their shoulder, an odd wave of giddiness filled him. What he once thought was happiness from having a friend, he now recognizes as love.

It took him a few weeks, but he eventually asked them out, and the beating in his chest filled his ears as they said yes.

Thank you so much to the Anon who spotted the fact Italy was forgotten! Thank you~!

#hetalia american #hetalia england #hetalia france #hetalia china #hetalia russia #hetalia germany #hetalia japan #hetalia Italy #human au #hetalia #hws #aph #hetalia world stars

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robinsarm · 3 years

Note

You said you needed headcanon fodder? Gimme some Quentin headcanons then, only if you want to tho. I love the sleepy boi. Will ya let him rest?

I know you asked for headcanons but...how about a fic? I swear I meant to make headcanons but while I was writing them up I thought of this lol.

This is just the first chapter. I think there will be around 3 or 4 chapters total (haven’t written the whole thing yet) but we’ll see lol. Hope you enjoy this first part.

Word count: ~900

Warnings: None

Out of the Nightmare and into Hell

(Chapter 1)

This wasn’t a dream anymore, was it? This was real. Really real. The twigs snapping under his heavy footsteps felt real enough. The exhaustion working in tandem with gravity, pulling at every part of him was surer than the existence of demons.

Quentin was awake, he was positive. Not only that, but he was positive that he could hear people talking, people laughing at that. If people were here then they were in trouble.

‘Here’ was a broad term. Quentin didn’t even know where ‘here’ was. He was just in the under workings of Springwood’s Badham Preschool, eluding a demonic nightmare of a man that had been haunting him for years. Now, he was…in the middle of the woods?

He’d deal with that fact later. Right now, Quentin needed to warn these people. But, damn, was he tired. How many days without sleep had it been now? Three? Maybe four? It was getting harder and harder to even lift his legs. Quentin began aiming for the trees, having to take a break at each trunk before leaning off and aiming for the next. The fear was what kept him going. If he was going to fall asleep, then he needed someone to wake him up. These people could do that.

He just needed to make it...a little...further.

“No way you lived a fight like that,” Meg argued playfully.

“Probably made the whole thing up,” David added, not believing a word of the gambler’s story either.

“Oh, come on guys,” Ace teased, finally choosing to sit down from his dramatic retelling. “When have I ever proved to be a liar?”

“Like the time you said you found a key in a trial, but when we needed it to open hatch, you admitted it was broken?” Jake answered.

“Or the time you said you had no idea where my last utility flashlight went, but you had actually traded it to Feng for a key?” Nea joined in.

“A dull key at that,” Feng admitted, her evil smile practically audible in her voice.

“Or the time-” Claudette started.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Ace stopped her mid sentence, having a good idea of where she was going to take her thought; Ace had a thing for keys, that was for sure. “I’m telling you though, my fight with Mika was real.”

“I believe him,” Bill declared suddenly, earning a skeptical look from the rest of the group.

“Thank you, Bill,” Ace said.

“Sure, I can’t imagine you were anything more than a warm up for the girl.”

The group, minus Ace, erupted into laughter. For once, the gambler wasn’t smiling. He rolled his eyes behind his shades and leaned further down on the log he was resting against.

“Alright, ha ha, very funny,” Ace complained. “I’m standing by my word though.”

“What word?” Jake snapped, causing another wave of laughter.

“Um...guys?” Dwight spoke up, seeming unnerved, staring off into the forest and pointing in the same direction.

The group looked to Dwight then followed the line in which he was directing. It took a moment but they eventually heard what was approaching before they saw it. Slow, heavy steps and the echoes of twigs snapping.

“Michael?” Laurie panicked, crawling back and looking at the rest of them. Dwight shook his head then stood up.

“Hello?” Dwight called out, earning no response.

The fog was noticeably thick. Much thicker than it had been a few minutes ago. The original four of the camp had an understanding of what these events meant. Jake, Claudette, and Meg all rose to their feet alongside Dwight, trying to find what he was looking at. Then, like a retreating animal, the fog backed off, leaving behind a person.

Everyone now on high alert, stared at the kid as his bloodshot eyes danced between all of them. His blue jacket and matching jeans were covered in scrapes and dried blood by the looks of it. He was breathing like he’d just run a marathon. Past that, this guy looked like he hadn’t slept in a long time. He couldn’t have been any older than his early twenties, and that broke some of the hearts of the survivors surrounding the fire.

The kid took two steps forward. Before any of them could break from their shock and get a word out, the new guy spoke in a hushed, raspy voice.

“Don’t…fall asleep,” he warned. With that, the kid’s body essentially gave out. His eyes rolled back into his head and he face-planted into the dirt. No buckling of the knees or arms out to catch him. He simply slammed into the ground and was gone.

Ace was up in a moment and the only one to immediately run to the kid’s aid. Upon seeing his act, the others got up one by one and joined Ace, surrounding the passed out kid. A symphony of questions followed, everyone looking to each other for answers no one had. Ace meanwhile gently slapped the kid's cheeks a few times, trying to stir any response. Nothing came of it. The kid’s head lulled back and forth with each tap.

“What do we do?” Feng asked. Her being the most recent of the group, besides this kid, she had no idea how to address a new survivor.

“Well,” Ace started, looking up to everyone else. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not going to bed for a little while.”

#dbd #quentin smith #freddy krueger #dead by daylight #ask

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egg-emperor · 3 years

Note

Has Eggman ever lost or misplaced his glasses?

Even though they’re so tightly secured on his nose that it interferes with the blood circulation and he's hardly seen without them, he still manages to lose and misplace them. He tries to be careful and keep them where they should be but sometimes it’s beyond his control, or he just clumsily or lazily misplaces them and regrets it later.

Because of the way he tends to fall asleep unexpectedly in places other than his bed, he can't remove his glasses before unexpectedly drifting off. When he wakes up from unplanned naps, his glasses are no longer on his nose. Sometimes it turns out they fell off and landed onto the chair, floor, desk, etc, that he fell asleep at.

He can also lose them after sleepwalking as he takes them to all kinds of random places when he's out of it. Similar happens when he gets carried away with the booze and spends the next morning struggling to find his glasses and being pissed at his earlier drunken self. He especially hates having to search while sick with a hangover!

Luckily, he can check his cameras to see if there's footage of him putting them down somewhere. As disappointed in himself as he is when he sees how he dropped or tossed them while out of it, he's just glad to find them. But the amount of cameras depends on the room and he doesn’t have many in his living quarters for privacy, so he’s not guaranteed to lose them on camera.

But those aren't the only ways he can lose them, just two of the times where he can at least say he has an excuse for it. Even when he's 100% awake, conscious, and sober, he still finds plenty of ways to lose them. Never underestimate his ability lol

Sometimes he needs to give his poor nose a break from wearing them in the day. He can do so long as the lights are dimmed and he doesn't need to see too well but he commonly misplaces or drops them around the base. And when he's relaxing in his living quarters, he hardly wears them as he doesn't need to see. He dreads losing them there because there are less cameras around!

The worst thing about losing them besides the frustration is how poor his vision is. He isn't far or near sighted, it's blurry in any range. So he rarely takes his glasses off anywhere, unless he's in a safe familiar place. Depending on his surroundings, it can be dangerous as he's vulnerable and prone to accidents. Especially if it’s dark because he never adjusts and stumbles around in confusion.

But light doesn’t help him see much better either because his eyes are light sensitive, which is part of why his glasses are darkly shaded. He feels blinded by the light and goes walking around like this all the while-

-minus holding the very glasses he’s trying to find, of course. Well, apart from the couple of times where he actually has tried looking for them while holding them! He’s very embarrassed when Orbot and Cubot point out that they’re right in his hand.

They're also amused when he can't see that they’re right in front of him, or he finds out that he's sat or lay on them and broken them again. He begs them not to laugh or share these silly stories with others. XD

Because his pince-nez glasses have no arms, it’s even harder to see or feel for them. If they’re under a blanket for example, they’ll hardly be any sort of indent to reveal that they’re under there because they're flat. It's a time he regrets choosing pince-nez glasses the most, but he wouldn't change them. (Except for 06, apparently)

But he does have plenty of experience with working through his poor vision. There are times his glasses get lost or broken at crash sites. They can crack and fall apart after battles or fly off his face during explosions. Searching for small things in piles of scrap is already difficult enough, let alone without glasses. Sometimes he never finds them and has to try to get home safely enough without them.

Even though it's most challenging and hazardous while outdoors, sometimes he chooses not to wear them. It's rare as he likes hiding his eyes and they're light sensitive but he's gone without glasses as part of a few of his many disguises. It's even harder for people to identify him because they've never seen his eyes prior and he's sure to use that to his advantage.

So even if he doesn't find his glasses for a while or they need to be repaired, he can get by without until then by feeling around for things, guessing, and taking his time. He can't trust the robots to be much help but he tries to get them to guide him too. He's good at pretending it's not so bad and he's learned to get used to over the years as his eyesight continues to worsen.

You might be thinking, why hasn't he tried to make a habit of carrying spares to save trouble? He has but he forgets to bring them around and he can lose or break them just as easily when he does! It's a neverending struggle but he's learned to accept it. Every time he loses them it's just another "here we go again" moment.

#dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #headcanons #my post #asks #eyes

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