#something about the gold of his armor and hair being silvered turning closer to white and his crimson cloak turning black

[ilynpilled]

The golden armor, not the white, but no one ever remembers that. Would that I had taken off that damned cloak as well.

When I reach King's Landing I'll have a new hand forged, a golden hand.

Cersei might like that. A golden hand to stroke her golden hair.

I am not myself. He eased himself down until the water reached his chin. “Soiled my white cloak . . . I wore my gold armor that day, but . . ."

“Gold armor?” Her voice sounded far off, faint.

Jaime slid into the offered seat quickly, so Bolton could not see how weak he was. "White is for Starks. I'll drink red like a good Lannister."

She did as he bid her. "The white cloak . . ."

". . . is new, but I'm sure I'll soil it soon enough."

“That wasn't . . . I was about to say that it becomes you.”

When he was done, more than three-quarters of his page still remained to be filled between the gold lion on the crimson shield on top and the blank white shield at the bottom. Ser Gerold Hightower had begun his history, and Ser Barristan Selmy had continued it, but the rest Jaime Lannister would need to write for himself. He could write whatever he chose, henceforth. Whatever he chose . . .

"Robert's beard was black. Mine is gold."

"Gold? Or silver?" Cersei plucked a hair from beneath his chin and held it up. It was grey. "All the color is draining out of you, brother. You've become a ghost of what you were, a pale crippled thing. And so bloodless, always in white." She flicked the hair away. "I prefer you garbed in crimson and gold."

At its head Jaime stood at vigil, his one good hand curled about the hilt of a tall golden greatsword whose point rested on the floor. The hooded cloak he wore was as white as freshly fallen snow, and the scales of his long hauberk were mother-of-pearl chased with gold. Lord Tywin would have wanted him in Lannister gold and crimson, she thought. It always angered him to see Jaime all in white.

Ser Jaime Lannister, all in white, stood beside his father's bier, five fingers curled about the hilt of a golden greatsword.

Fissures had opened in his cheeks, and a foul white fluid was seeping through the joints of his splendid gold-and-crimson armor to pool beneath his body.

Glory wore trappings of Lannister crimson; Honor was barded in Kingsguard white.

His cloak was Lannister crimson, but his surcoat showed the ten purple mullets of his own House arrayed upon a yellow field.

"My lord," the lad asked, "will you be wanting your new hand?"

"Wear it, Jaime," urged Ser Kennos of Kayce. "Wave at the smallfolk and give them a tale to tell their children.”

“I think not." Jaime would not show the crowds a golden lie. Let them see the stump. Let them see the cripple.

Behind the lords came a hundred crossbowmen and three hundred men-at-arms, and crimson flowed from their shoulders as well. In his white cloak and white scale armor, Jaime felt out of place amongst that river of red.

Jaime Lannister wore a doublet of red velvet slashed with cloth-of-gold, and a golden chain studded with black diamonds. He had strapped on his golden hand as well, polished to a fine bright sheen. This was no fit place to wear his whites. His duty awaited him at Riverrun; a darker need had brought him here.

Jaime had thought long and hard about whether to wear his gold armor or his white to this meeting; in the end, he'd chosen a leather jack and a crimson cloak.

For an instant, the deep red clouds that crowned the western hills reminded him of Rhaegar's children, all wrapped up in crimson cloaks.

Seven bloody hells," he started, "who dares—" Then he saw Jaime's white cloak and golden breastplate. His swordpoint dropped. "Lannister?"

quotes specifically focusing on his hand:

“The boy is dead." Jaime had drunk three cups of wine, and his golden hand seemed to be growing heavier and clumsier by the moment.

His golden fingers were curved enough to hook, but could not grasp, so his hold upon the shield was loose. "You were a knight once, ser," Jaime said. "So was I. Let us see what we are now."

“Radiant." Fickle. "Golden." False as fool's gold. Last night he dreamed he'd found her fucking Moon Boy. He'd killed the fool and smashed his sister's teeth to splinters with his golden hand, just as Gregor Clegane had done to poor Pia. In his dreams Jaime always had two hands; one was made of gold, but it worked just like the other.

"Men shall name you Goldenhand from this day forth, my lord," the armorer had assured him the first time he'd fitted it onto Jaime's wrist. He was wrong. I shall be the Kingslayer till I die.

One of them wore the ruins of a crimson cloak, but Jaime hanged him with the rest. It felt good. This was justice. Make a habit of it, Lannister, and one day men might call you Goldenhand after all. Goldenhand the Just. The world grew ever greyer as they drew near to Harrenhal.

The weight of his golden hand had grown irksome. He fumbled at the straps that secured it to his wrist.

Well, what's one more broken vow to the Kingslayer? Just more shit in the bucket. Jaime resolved to be the first man on the battlements. And with this golden hand of mine, most like the first to fall.

Around him he glimpsed the faces of men he'd done his best to kill in the Whispering Wood, where the Freys had fought beneath the direwolf banners of Robb Stark. His golden hand hung heavy at his side.

then the subconscious conclusion:

"Is it?" She smiled sadly. "Count your hands, child."

One. One hand, clasped tight around the sword hilt. Only one. "In my dreams I always have two hands." He raised his right arm and stared uncomprehending at the ugliness of his stump.

I think the narrative that is being told in the color symbolism present in Jaime’s story is the realization that glory has no presence in the man he wants to become. He gradually realizes again the truth of the golden hand covering his stump being a golden lie. It is more an embodiment of his sins, a heavy burden he carries. True honor and change will not be wrapped in gold, and obviously not crimson. But this should not lead to the return of his cynicism, which is how he approaches this early on, and why he wants to delude himself about it. He greys, and he sheds the red and gold color. The white becomes him. The crimson & gold comes back when he does his duty for the horrid Lannister regime, when he sustains loyalty to his family, and emulates his father. Nonetheless, he keeps drawing nearer to the blank white shield at the bottom of his page and distancing himself from the crimson at the top. But maybe the lesson is that he cannot start over like that. Maybe his only choices are not the evil Kingslayer and the glittering Goldenhand the Just. Maybe he should just be Jaime. That white shield is tainted. Our good actions do not wash out the bad. They will exist simultaneously. You will never be the golden heir, the perfect pure white Just Knight. You are a crippled broken man. But that does not mean you cannot choose to continue living and keep pushing to change for the better:

“What else can I do, but die?”

“Live,” she said

Maybe the blank white shield is an impossible ideal not made for him. But what remains if he cannot be crimson, gold, or the pure white?

yet she knew it was him. “Even at a distance, Ser Jaime Lannister was unmistakable. The moonlight had silvered his armor and the gold of his hair, and turned his crimson cloak to black.”

He was always meant to be a grey character. Why don’t we mix that black & white?

#something about the gold of his armor and hair being silvered turning closer to white and his crimson cloak turning black #and it is the moon #the graceful crescent during the night he decided to live #and its as early as agot?:?): #i love being delusional guys #asoiaf #jaime lannister #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf meta #also the ‘Jaime resolved to be the first man on the battlements. And with this golden hand of mine most like the first to fall’ #he is at it again oml #frank reynolds ‘sulclde is badass’ on loop #anyway the build up works very well with the vows of taking the black

[glouris]

Master post of Heimdall’s parallels and references that I managed to sniff out or delude myself into

Atreus 

1. Heimdall’s neckline embroidery parallels Atreus’ arrowhead necklace. 

2. Color scheme: main colors of Heimdall’s armor are white and gold, while Atreus’ aesir armor is black and silver. Their accent colors are magenta and green. Full opposites.

3. God of Mischief and Chaos / God of Foresight and Order. Full opposites again, almost countermeasures to one another. Foresight cancels out mischief, mischief cancels out order, order cancels out chaos, chaos cancels out foresight, which in turn cancels out misch– you get it. 

4. Mythological Heimdall's back is always black since the ash from burning Yggdrasil is falling on him constantly. Perhaps the black leather covering GOW Heimdall’s shoulders and back + gray stains on his white tunic is a reference to that. 

Even though Yggdrasil never actually burns in the games, there are bright auburn butterflies flying around its branches, almost like glowing embers. Since our good old redheaded Atreus is always the cause of everything essentially and is constantly bringing Ragnarok closer with his actions, I like to think that the butterflies are a reference both to the "Flames scorch the leaves of Yggdrasil" line from the Prophecy of Ragnarok, and to Atreus himself, since he has quite a few parallels to fire. 

When Atreus was dying in the first game the world was reacting and the sky was actually burning. Ashes start to fall when he and Kratos use the rage moves; the destruction and chaos Atreus brings is easily associated with fire too (something something anD I sEe ciTes buRniNg). A rune often connected to Loki is Kenaz ( ᚲ ) which means “a torch”, or a “beacon”. The “torch” acts like a symbol of knowledge and intellect, and the rune’s meanings range from intuition, insight, cunning, and creative thinking to destruction and creation through fire. It works for Atreus perfectly. 

Plus, he’s a redhead, I could have just stopped there with the fire association. I’m sure there’s more fire symbolism for Atreus in both games though. 

5. While Atreus can be paralleled to fire, Heimdall is associated with water in Norse myths because of his nine mothers, who were wave goddesses. This connection can stay true in gow since nine sisters are a part of the in-game universe (more on that in a bit). 

You know what the funny thing is though? Atreus and Heimdall have this fire/water thing going on, but on top of that Atreus also can’t swim. And, what he does the FIRST THING after getting into Asgard? He drowns.

6. It’s possible that ‘Son’s Path’ (Atreus’ theme) was somewhat based on 'Magni and Modi' (Heimdall’s theme). Both have the exact same rhythm in the interlude, and it feels like the leitmotif of Atreus’ theme takes the main melody from Magni and Modi and adds new notes. You can listen to the comparison here.  

7. If Atreus could hear the thoughts of intelligent beings (he heard the thoughts of elves and trolls in GOW 2018) and not only the animals, then Heimdall can probably hear the thoughts of animals too. If not, both still can read minds. 

8. Both are fully devoted to their fathers.

9. Heimdall and Faye’s hair are braided in a similar fashion. Atreus asked about growing his hair out in Ragnarok, I give you a 98% probability of him having the same braids as them in the next game. 

10. Cat person vs dog person lol. 

11. Rainbow eyes headcanon

The wolves: Garm and Fenrir, Skoll and Hati

1. Kratos’ confrontations with Heimdall and Garm go very similarly: he is put against them because of Atreus, who persuades Kratos not to kill them, attempts at pacifying them go poorly, and Kratos kills them by choking.  

2. While Kratos and Atreus are chasing Garm, his appearances are followed by Atreus asking about the spear, or them discussing Heimdall - it’s a constant back and forth.

3. Garm is the only boss in the game, apart from Heimdall himself, that uses the spear as a mandatory gimmick. 

4. The ‘Room with an imprisoned troll from GOW 2018’ conundrum. Atreus asks Kratos to free the troll that will attack them because he can hear his thoughts and feels sorry for him (possible Garm foreshadowing). When the fight begins ‘Magni and Modi’ starts playing out of nowhere, and you get Heimdall’s horn as a reward (possible Heimdall foreshadowing). 

I was bringing up the possibility of Heimdall being imprisoned somehow too because of this weird parallel with the troll and Heimdall’s similarities with Garm - figuratively (being held up by pride, lack of doubt and remorse, being unable to change) or literally (being manipulated/brainwashed and controlled by Odin). I can’t say that it’s very plausible, since it’s unlikely that the mans coming back for this to be explored. Although, they could talk about that without him present I guess. (Still want him to be alive again Santa Monica, do something!! I’m slowly transitioning into acceptance, I don’t like it!!!!) 

5. I didn’t quite get that part, but mythological Heimdall is somehow connected to reincarnation? Very questionable information (as if everything else here is not lol), please correct me if you know what this is about. If legit, then Garm/Fenrir transformation parallels it. 

6. The Vanaheim episode about Skoll and Hati is right before Heimdall’s, the dread of fulfillment of the prophecy running through both events. 

7. In Norse mythology Heimdall announces the coming of a new day when he’s passing the Bifrost at dawn. He caught the moon in GOW, giving him a nice and clear parallel to Hati, since they are a ‘bringer of the day’ and catching the moon is their ultimate goal. Heimdall also has sun symbols on his belt, with a flower in the center:

The sun is self-explanatory, but the flower can be a reference to Vanaheim. We have a mention of 9 sisters of Vanaheim, and since no 9 sisters other than Heimdall’s mothers are mentioned in Norse Mythology, Heimdall is probably part Vanir in GOW, like Baldur. 

And well, sun symbol (day) + flower symbol (Vanaheim) = Hati. 

Also, if you look at the hilt of Heimdall’s sword from different angles the golden cross ornament shifts into a diamond shape. Almost like the Asgard rune turning into the Vanaheim rune:  

Fight with Heimdall (and his subsequent death) happens right after you summon Skoll to bring the night and clear a path into Heimdall’s boss arena. Hod (Hodur) is the god that represents night in Norse mythology, who accidentally kills Baldur with mistletoe as a result of Loki’s trickery. Since he’s nowhere to be seen in GOW, the accident with the mistletoe arrow (that’s 'straighter than Heimdall' while being all squiggly and spirally - never let them forget that this man is a fruit) is caused by Atreus himself. The eclipse and the night in Vanaheim, the Fimbulwinter, Ragnarok and other stuff you can give the ‘night/darkness’ allegory to, are all ultimately caused by Atreus as well. I think it’s safe to parallel him to Skoll, who’s the ‘bringer of the night’. 

One can argue that since Kratos killed Baldur he’s supposed to be the 'bringer of the night', but I think the initial cause is more important for this particular allegory. Skoll doesn’t kill Heimdall after all, he’s leading Kratos to this path - like Atreus. You know?

Concluding all that and circling back, Heimdall's the one stealing away the moon, bringing day, and Atreus' the one putting it back on the sky and chasing away the sun, brining night. It's clear-cut. Somewhat.

Kratos 

1. Kratos: Athena’s follower, who is a god of wisdom that was using Kratos; Athena got to the higher plane of existence after death. 

Heimdall: Odin’s follower, who is a god of wisdom that was using Heimdall; Odin was obsessed with finding out what follows after death through a tear in reality that most likely leads to the higher plane of existence.

2. I think the bearded man with a horn on the murals on the realm towers everyone thought to be Heimdall is actually Kratos.

3. A redhead probably said ‘I can fix him’ about them at some point.  

Angrboda

1. They act like guides to their respectable realms for Atreus - they meet him when he arrives, give him exposition, and a nice ride on an animal with horns. Could have opened the best travel agency in all of the 9 realms. 

2. Their parts on Atreus’ mural are side by side, mirroring each other.

3. Foresight powers.

4. Similar magic. Angrboda mentioned that Vanir learned their magic from the Giants; Freya’s sigil arrows and Angrboda’s runic stones have the same use in combat - exploding on contact with elements (Freya’s sigils), or arrows (Angrboda’s runic stones).

Something that does this as well is Bifrost - after it’s been applied it will explode on the next contact too. Not to mention, sigils, runic stones, Bifrost - all are purple, with some of the effects having the exact same hue. Something that looks similar to all this as well are Wight and Wisps, the Bifrost ones.  Also, Angrboda’s falcon summon has a rainbow effect.  

This type of Giant/Vanir magic is focused on using the runes. As the runes come from the Well of Urd, they are connected to Yggdrasil, which grows from the Well. Yggdrasil is in turn related to Bifrost, connecting all the elements together. That’s why the Giant/Vanir runic magic and Bifrost conjuration are so similar - their sources are intertwined.

Various aesir

Some of the parallels between Heimdall and aesir that die for Odin point at him being just as expandable, despite being so loyal: 

- his eyes being the same as regular asgardian soldiers, even with his special connection to Bifrost;

- the pattern around his neck being a parallel to Baldur’s mistletoe;

- his theme being a rework of ‘Magni and Modi';

- him being ended with a spear, just as Thor was.

#will be updating if i find or remember something else #i really like foils #god of war ragnarok #god of war #god of war spoilers #god of war ragnarok spoilers #spoilers #heimdall #atreus #kratos #angrboda #odin #the art is subjective and i am commited to being a bit unwell

[soulsalight]

@forgesahead sent: "Wraps Thancred up in his arms and pulls him close to his chest. Cuddle time."

He doesn't know what happened to cause this. An inner crutch slipped, at last a fractured defense against all he's held under a tight lid crumbled and left him bare. His head is spinning, his skull throbbing with a dull pain, his heartbeat loud in his ears. He's trembling, can see his hands shake before his eyes. Noise reaches him, a voice, but it's muted. Everything seems far away. He is dizzy. He should sit down, he thinks.

The world tilts.

But there is no pain as he expects there to be. He never hits the floor, doesn't pass out either, doesn't get spirited away to a place unknown even though his very being tenses in preparation, having lived it not once, but twice now.

But something — someone — holds him upright, a firm hand against his arm, another at his back. He stumbles, his knees weak, his legs not obeying. His face ends up pressed against the crook of another's neck, and he knows the scent that meets him, so familiar and calming that he takes a gasping breath after not breathing at all for far too long.

"Meteor—" He tries to explain himself, but nothing but the other man's name makes itself past his lips.

The reality of the situation comes to the forefront of his mind, as does a twinge of shame at this display of unwanted weakness. Bile rises in his throat as a voice in the back of his mind whispers about how pathetic he still is.

It's ridiculous that after all this time spent fighting, something like this forces him to his knees.

He lets himself be half dragged and half carried away from the open space and inside, to chambers by now equally familiar as his own, if not more.

Thancred can't keep his focus long, it seems he blinks and his gear has vanished, gauntlets, boots, armor, all stripped from his form until there is little left besides the dark undershirt and pants. He feels naked even with the clammy fabric clinging to his skin.

Meteor looks at him then, or rather he tilts Thancred's face by the chin to have his meet his eyes, mismatched gold and silver meeting blue.

He's drowning.

He grasps at something, a lifeline, but in reality it's Meteor's shirt. Don't go. He thinks. Pleads. Whimpers. Don't let go.

There is warmth enveloping him soon after, the world is tilting again, but this time he feels near weightless, feet lifted off the ground as he breathes shallow and too quickly, the jackrabbit beat of his heart drowning out all else.

Only when he opens his eyes again, not having realized he closed them until now, does he unterstand that he is lying down; that Meteor carried him here. His eyes are still wide and afraid, but a low tone of voice reaches him through his haze. He doesn't yet fully understand the words, but the notion they convey is unmistakable when a solid weight around his waist and the back of his neck pulls him closer.

Safe.

He's safe.

He burries against a warm chest, breathes deep, or as deeply as his lingering fear and panic allow and then he starts shaking in earnest like leaves in the La Noscean breeze. It's been so long since he's been anywhere near Limsa, but for a second he could swear he smells the salt on the wind, hears the song of the sea.

It's part of him, too, always has been, always will be. Just like the white of his hair and the first name someone must have given him at some point, but who? He never figured it out.

There is a hand in his hair now and Thancred suddenly understands that he's been rambling about all the little things that his mind is going through at a rapid pace. Well, he has lost so many things, why not add his sanity to the list?

His own hands move now, no longer lying limp between them, but now encircling Meteor in turn. He takes another shuddering breath and at last something in his chest unwinds and allows him a proper deeper inhale, his voice a broken little thing as he finally finds his words again.

"Will you ever grow tired of saving me?"

#meteorcred #meteorcred / #answered ask #answered.thancred #tw: panic attack #forgesahead #answered.ask

[chokemeanakin]

Aggressive Negotiations (part one)-- Anakin Skywalker x fem reader

Okay so I’ve gotten a lot of requests for Anakin seeing reader dressed up for the first time, and I also got a “stuck-in-the-closet” trope, and a “handcuffed-together” trope, so I thought I’d knock out three birds with one stone and just combine them all. Enjoy ;)

(Ps I hope you all don’t mind that I always make reader a non-jedi? Idk I just prefer it when they both have their own strengths.)

Masterlist

Read it on ao3

Wc: 2.6k

The thin material of the dress stuck to your legs, and you tugged it down self-consciously. Fancy red dresses were not your usual cup of tea, but tonight you had a mission, and the entirety of it depended on your ability to seduce the Prince of Krygo.

For once, you wished Anakin had failed at a mission. He had been sent before you to drive Separatist forces away from Kygo before they could take over the rich mining planet, and had succeeded in not only that, but saving the Prince’s life. Of course, this meant a banquet of celebration was to be held, with Anakin as the guest of honor. 

Then, rumors of Count Dooku’s presence at the ball were revealed, which is where you came in. Anakin could not get the information alone-- he needed a more… direct source to the knowledge, one where the Prince would have his guard down and he’d be completely open to divulging important information. The Council was obviously “under-the-table” about suggesting you fill this role, and still won’t explicitly tell you what they suggest you do. But you got the idea. 

Not that it made you uncomfortable. You were perfectly fine with exploiting a man’s weaknesses for your own good-- in the most respectful way possible. It was mostly the fact that it was Anakin who would be by your side tonight, and it was also Anakin who was your secret lover, and Anakin who had a bad habit of becoming possessive and jealous whenever he felt like his attachment to you became threatened. Therefore, you had to have a talk with him before all this.

“Anakin, sweetie, baby, my love,”

“Hm?” 

“Pookie pie. Boo bear. Apple of my eye.”

“Yes, Y/n. Cut it out with nicknames.”

You leaned over the couch where he was sitting and reading his war reports, looking at him sideways. “You know I love you, right?”

“I do...” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Then you know that whatever happens at the ball, between me and the Prince, it means nothing.”

“What are you planning on doing, exactly?”

Now he was sitting up, alarmed. You hugged his head to your chest, kissing his cheek from behind to try and diffuse the situation.

“Nothing too elaborate. Just get him in a position where he has no choice but to tell me where and why he’s hiding Count Dooku.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“It’s nothing like that, Ani. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“But he might.”

“I won’t let it get that far.”

“You’d be surprised how hard it is to control someone in a situation like that.”

“You speak from experience?”

“No-- no of course not. I just don’t want you to be in that position.”

“Anakin, I know how to handle myself.”

He was rigid beneath your arms, quiet.

“This wasn’t supposed to be that elaborate.”

You drew patterns into the leather armor over his chest, as if you could draw the stress out through your fingertips.

“It’s not. I just thought I’d warn you, in case you see something you don’t like. I don’t want you to think I enjoy his presence, or him. I love you, and that’s all that matters at the end of the mission. Okay?”

“I still don’t like this,” he sighed, finally relaxing back into your arms. “But I trust you.”

“Thank you,” you kissed the top of his head, inhaling his scent. You could feel his unease, but both of you knew there was nothing you could really do to help the situation. You had to get the information out of the Prince, and he was notorious for favoring human women like you. The setup was perfect-- all you had to do was lure him in, set the trap, and then spring when the moment was right. You both knew you had it all under control, even if it did make Anakin nervous.

The one thing you didn’t really think about before agreeing to this, however, was the fact that you would have to dress up. Like… dress up, dress up. It was a formal ball, which meant the ladies had to wear gowns and men had to wear suits. You didn’t know much about fashion, and what was expected for this ball specifically, nor did you even own anything fancy enough to wear. So you went to Padme, who more than gladly lent you a dress that was both elegant and sexy… more so than was probably appropriate.

It was a necessary evil.

Step one was getting the dress, and that part was over. Now began the more difficult phase of the mission: actually putting on the dress and becoming that seductress, even though you had never really done anything like this before. Even more nerve-wracking— you’d have to face Anakin, who had never seen you in anything but your daily clothes before. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your dress down again. It’s not like you had anything to be nervous about— you looked amazing. The dress clung to every inch of your body, the red hue of it popping out against your skin color. Your hair was styled and draped over your shoulders, and you had done your makeup dark and alluring. 

You were just nervous to see Anakin’s reaction… or was that excitement?

A buzzer startled you out of your train of thought, signaling that it was time to head down to the party. Anakin must be right outside, waiting for you. You took one last look in the mirror, and then turned to open the door.

The sight of him took your breath away, as per usual. He was dressed in a black suit, form-fitting and dark through and through. You’re not sure why he favored the black theme, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t flatter him. He looked dangerous, and the tilted smirk he was giving you added to the bachelor aura. 

“Y/n…” he murmured, immediately fitting his hands around your waist. 

“Yes?” You asked when he didn’t continue. He held you a couple inches away, admiring every inch of you. You squirmed under his greedy eyes. “Do… do you think it’s good enough?” 

“Good enough?” He finally met your gaze, lifting his brows incredulously. “You’re enchanting.” 

Your cheeks flooded with heat, the intensity behind those words loaded with truth. His voice was low, slightly raspy as if he was holding himself back from dragging you into the room and having his way with you here and now, mission be damned. A big part of you wanted that, but a bigger part of you enjoyed standing here, being inspected as if you were the most beautiful girl in the galaxy under his intensifying gaze. 

The shift in Anakin’s eyes made you feel like you were on top of the world, like you could do anything. If he thought you were so beautiful when he looked like that… well, maybe you could do anything.

“You look incredible,” he breathed, sliding his hands further around your waist to pull you closer. It was only when he nudged your arms around his own waist did you realize what he was doing— he wanted you to feel the lightsaber he had under his suit jacket, reminding you of the mission, how he’d be watching and protecting you from afar.

You should have known before even opening the door that you would be watched every second of this ball, even now in the hallway of the palace. Something shady was going on on Krygo, and you two were the main targets.

“Let’s head down to the main event, yeah?” He suggested, pulling away and offering his arm. You gathered your composure and hooked your arm around his elbow, allowing him to lead you down the stairs, through the grand hall, and into the ballroom.

It was exactly what you’d imagined— a small orchestra on the stage, playing slow violin waltzes, elegant lace dresses spinning around the room, dress shoes tapping over glossy marble floors, and an overwhelming floral scent from the thousands of purple roses adorning the room. 

You spotted the Prince across the room— he was dressed in a delicate white suit, accented with silver and gold, black hair gelled back with a single curl hanging over his forehead. He was striking, but in a different way— a mischievous way. Those mossy eyes were hiding something. 

The Prince stopped the whole room with a raise of his glass. He tilted it toward Anakin and you, thanking him for his service to himself and the planet. A murmur of gratitude travelled around the room, and his glass lowered. The ball resumed, but the Prince’s eyes stayed locked in your direction— this time, landing directly on you. He flicked his head, motioning for the two of you to approach.

“You have your knife with you?” Anakin grit between his teeth as he led you toward him.

The arm that wasn’t hooked onto Anakin’s brushed by your side, feeling the minuscule lump of the knife you had slid into the band around your thigh. Your dress had a slit on that leg, providing you easy access for when the time came to use it. 

“I’m all set,” you whispered back. He looked at you quickly, his eyes full of hesitance and fear. It was gone in a blink.

“Anakin Skywalker,” the Prince purred as the two of you approached. The rest of his company filtered away. “Or should I say, General Skywalker?”

“Please, Anakin,” he smiled, charming as ever. 

“How are you enjoying the ball so far? Does it live up to your Coruscant-ee standards?”

You didn’t like the Prince’s tone of voice. He had a playful lilt, as if everything he said was mocking, a game. It was irritating and unnerving, and made it seem like he knew something you didn’t. 

“I can’t say we have many dances at the Jedi temple,” Anakin answered coolly, accepting the drink that the Prince handed him. “But this far exceeds any expectations I might have had.”

“I’m glad you think so— you are the guest of honor,” the Prince bowed his head, lips curling impishly. “And for you, my lady,” he handed you a flute of champagne, similar to Anakin’s.

You took it, smiling sweetly in response. Inside, your nerves were firing out of control. You couldn’t do this— how were you supposed to flirt this man up with Anakin right next to you? It felt too unnatural, too wrong… You needed him to leave, and soon;  before the Prince dismissed you, and your only chance at getting him alone for the night was gone.

“I regret coming off as ungrateful, but I believe I see Captain Wel-Solley. We haven’t talked since the battle of Geonosis. You don’t mind, do you?”

You sighed in relief as Anakin excused himself, unhooking his arm from yours.

“Of course not, go ahead,” the Prince encouraged, ushering him with a sweep of his hand. Anakin nodded once and left, fingers lingering on your arm. You knew what he meant by it— 

Be careful.

You took a sip of the champagne so you could have a moment to gather your thoughts before hurling yourself headfirst into this mess of a mission. The Prince was already looking at you as you lowered your glass.

“And what do you think of this ball, m’lady?”

“Call me Y/n,” you smiled a bit, leveling your gaze at him. “And I think it’s beautiful. I’ve never been to a ball this extravagant before.”

“So you’re experienced in gallant culture?”

“My mother was princess of Fauna, before the Separatists took over,” you lied. “I grew up in a palace much like this one.”

You’re not sure where that story came from, but you always were a terrific liar. You knew you needed to find a level ground with him, create some kind of unifying factor between the two of you. Why not choose his status? You trusted your gut to just go with it.

“The daughter of a Princess. So that makes you… what? A princess as well?”

“I’d assume so,” you laugh prettily. “It’s no matter to me. I’m not bound by a royal lifestyle anymore.”

“So what do you do? Travel with Republic war generals to keep their morale up?” 

“Actually, I’m more of a diplomat,” you swirled the champagne around in your glass, feigning absent-mindedness. “I negotiate treaties, keep the peace when possible.”

He tilted his head, scanning your figure. You could see the appreciating glint in his eye but pretended not to notice. Funnily enough, his face was his weakness. While his voice and demeanor gave you the impression he was spinning a trap around you, his face gave away all of his emotions. You could almost read his thoughts— how you looked so enticing, elegant but teetered on the edge of scandalous. How could an outside like yours be paired with an inspiring, intelligent interior? And a member of royalty, at that? It must be too good to be true.

“Besides,” you continued nonchalantly, “you know the Jedi… their morales don’t require much upkeep.”

“Oh?” The Prince was intrigued. “And what are you implying?”

“Well, they teach against that sort of attachment,” you inform him, a sly smirk spreading across your lips. “A pity, really. It’s been a while since I’ve had any… fun.”

The Prince picked up on that quickly. His grin turned equally sinful, eyes darkening just a shade.

“Well, if you finish that drink, I’m sure we can find something more worthwhile to do.”

“Yeah?” You took a sip and bat your eyes innocently. “Like dancing?”

“Like dancing,” he confirmed, and you both laughed.

Got him.

You scanned the room for Anakin as you took your next sip, finding him dancing with an older woman by the window. He immediately turned to catch your eye, just barely nodding.

You swallowed the last of your champagne, setting it on a silver platter as the server walked by. “So where would you like to continue this?”

You attributed your newfound boldness to the alcohol in your system, as well as the high you got from your recent success. It was almost too easy how he fell into the palm of your hand, but you weren’t going to question it. Now, you had to get him all alone.

“My bedroom is quite large,” the Prince suggested. “There’s lots of room for dancing.”

“I’d hope,” you played along. “I can get quite… sloppy with my steps. No one ever taught me how to dance like a lady.”

“A princess with a dirty technique? I guess I’ll just have to teach you how to do it right.”

His arm stretched out to you, and there it was. Your golden ticket to success. You hooked your arm around his elbow, and he began to lead you out of the ballroom. Anakin’s eyes were palpable on your back as he watched you leave.

Just as you crossed the threshold, you began to feel funny. Your head grew light, vision blurring in and out. Your stomach dropped, and you suddenly felt very faint.

“Are you okay, m’lady?” The Prince paused. “You’re complexion has turned a little pale.”

“Excuse me, I’m alright,” you held onto his arm a little tighter so you wouldn’t fall. “My excitement is getting the best of me.” 

“I must admit, I’m just as eager.”

You continued on through the halls, but with each step your grew worse and worse. Before long, your knees could no longer hold you up, and you could barely see two feet in front of you. The last thing you saw before blacking out was the Prince smiling cruelly down at you as he lowered you to the cool, marble floor.

#Anakin Skywalker #anakin #skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fic #anakin skywalker fic #anakin x reader fic #anakin skywalker x reader fic #anakin fluff #anakin banter #star wars prequels

[marvels-writings]

Angel

Soulmate AU with Wanda Maximoff

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch Masterlist)

Prompt by: @omgopalsapphire​ 

Requested by: @ophelias-heart, @sananabdliw, @jadewestwriter, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

Word Count: 3,943

You never believed in the idea of true love.

 Even though you lived in a world where everyone had a different way of finding their so-called ‘soulmate’. You never understood the idea.

Everyone told you about how special it was to be able to spend eternity with someone. You were never able to grasp the idea. Most people you knew had an easy way of finding their soulmate. Either their name is written across their skin. Or a thread connected them. Or their first words to each other is on their arms.

Your way is complicated. You felt the pain of your soulmate, you never understood why.

Throughout your childhood, you never felt pain. Until one day, you got surges of pain, it felt like you were being starved for days. Ever since you would feel a random needle in your side. The pain of knocking out, electric shocks, bruises. You pitied your soulmate, you tried to be more careful so they wouldn’t have to endure more pain.

It became harder once you’d joined the Avengers. Tony saw you fly out of a burning building. You had gorgeous white wings springing out from in the middle of your shoulder blades. You often tended to keep them under wraps. Folding them and wearing larger clothes. SHIELD helped you develop the ability to shrink their size so they were barely visible.

Every time you got injured, you murmured a silent apology to your soulmate for adding to their pain. Little did you know, Wanda apologized every night for the pain she put you through every single day.

After Ultron had manipulated the minds of the entire team, you’d gone with them to Clint’s safe house. A plan had developed. You went with Fury and Maria to get the helicarrier after everyone had been saved. You heard someone had been  left behind, a girl in a red leather jacket.

You instantly flew out of the helicarrier and towards the city. Vision gave you her location, unable to get to her since he was dealing with Ultron. You eventually found her, you quickly down to get her. Wordlessly, you picked her up and flew out of there. The girl wrapped her arms around your neck to keep herself from falling, but she couldn’t help staring.

You looked stunning. You wore a black body con suit, your face smeared with dirt but she could still see your eyes sparkling. What caught her eye was your wings, they were huge and beautiful, almost angelic.

After you set her down and verified she was okay, you introduced yourself. Wanda was a little hesitant to introduce herself since she saw the Avengers symbol stitched onto your suit. But you didn’t seem to notice her hesitation, instead offering to walk her inside.

You talked about the helicarrier while you walked. Gesturing to the planes and everyone else at the flight deck. You noticed Wanda staring at your wings and you flapped them a bit, startling her. You laughed at her stunned reaction.

“How did you get them?” Wanda asked, completely awestruck by them.

“Well, they were a sort of a mutation. I accidentally got caught up in a science room where they had a serum for growing wings. They decided to make me their new test subject, and the serum worked,” You pursed your lips at the memory. “But they injected me with the serum on accident,”

“I’m sorry,” Wanda apologized, wincing when she saw the hard expression on your face.

“It’s fine now,” You waved it off casually, “It turned out well for me anyway,”

Wanda opened her mouth to say something when something silver rushed over and pulled her in for a hug. You instantly went into a defensive posture. Flaring your wings and raising your fists. Your eyes widened when you realized it was just a person.

“Woah,” The blonde man gasped, Wanda laughed and pulled away from him.

You frowned at the interaction, still in a defensive pose.

“Calm down angel,” Pietro flirted. You rolled your eyes and pulled your wings back in after noticing his staring.

“This is Pietro, my twin,” Wanda introduced, she gestured to you. “This is y/n,”

“Great to meet you,” Pietro smirked, offering you his hand.

You raised an eyebrow at him and swatted his hand away with your wing. They laughed and waved you a quick goodbye before heading off to where Steve was calling them.

The next few weeks were interesting, to say the least. You felt drawn to Wanda, you weren’t sure why you constantly found yourself trying to spend more time with her. Eventually, both of you became close friends, which surprised the entire team.

Somehow, neither of you noticed that you were each other’s soulmate. Since both of you were off of missions for almost a month, you were only attending training. You didn’t notice that the bruises on your arms from training were also on Wanda’s arms. The redhead seemed not to notice your matching injuries either.

You weren’t the most open person, but you seemed to open up to Wanda about almost everything rather quickly. The witch found herself trusting you more and more as days went by. Both of you confused about why you felt drawn to each other.

“What are you thinking about?” Wanda asked, flopping down on the couch next to you, you shrugged and turned to face her.

The redhead wore grey leggings, a scarlet t-shirt, and a dark grey cardigan. Her arms wrapped loosely around her midsection as she sat down next to you, looking at you curiously.

“Just how we first met,” You answered casually, fidgeting with your sweatshirt.

“And Pietro called you ‘angel’?” Wanda jokes, you giggled and looked up to face her.

“He’s not the first person to come up with that,” You stated, the redhead raised an eyebrow.

“When you have white wings, everyone tends to think that. Especially the people who are almost unconscious.” You shrugged.

Wanda laughed at the idea of someone dying then thinking you were an angel coming to redeem them. You found yourself entranced by her laughter, you blinked to try to stop staring.

“When we first met, I-” FRIDAY cut her off and told them they were required for a mission briefing.

Wanda sighed and got up, holding out a hand for you to take. She was going to tell you that she thought you were an angel when you first met. You took it and let her pull you up, realizing she didn’t finish her sentence.

“You didn’t finish,” You commented, Wanda, shrugged.

You noticed that Wanda still held onto your hand. You chose not to tell her, instead slowly moving to intertwine your fingers with hers. The redhead blushed at the action but squeezed your hand gently on the way to the briefing room.

It confused both of you when the squeeze seemed to resonate more than it should have.

-----------

The mission was fairly simple, it was to take down an arm’s dealer’s base a few miles north of rural New York. The team consisted of you, Wanda and Rhodey. You were to fly over and make sure nothing was wrong .Rhodey was to fly the jet and stand by as backup. You were to fly over the base and act as a bomber since you were undetectable by most radars. Wanda could use her magic to manipulate them into surrendering or blowing the entire place to bits.

Nothing you hadn’t done a thousand times before. But this time, your crush was on the mission.

-----------

“Nice suit,” You glanced at Wanda, she blushed. The redhead wore a black leather jacket, a simple, body con top underneath it, a simple black skirt, and knee-high boots.

“Not so bad yourself,” Wanda commented, stealing a glance at you.

You wore your usual body-con armor, it was simple and sleek, completely black, except for the thin lines of gold adorning it to give it a nice touch. You could’ve picked a white suit, but after you got called angel too many times, you settled for the black one.

“There was a white one too, I liked this one better,” You answered, tucking a few knives into the thigh holsters and putting a gun into your belt.

“Too angelic?” Wanda jokes, moving closer to you and leaning her back against the wall in front of you.

Your breath hitched at how close she was, you nodded and retrieved one last knife. Trying not to focus on the way Wanda was looking at you.

“If you’re done,” Rhodey gestured to both of you. “I’d like to get this mission over with”

Your eyes widened, you clenched your jaw and nodded, walking away from Wanda towards the bay doors. The redhead walked up next to you. She reached for your hand and gently intertwined your fingers together. You released a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, you smiled reassuringly at her.

Rhodey told you that you needed to take off, you winked at the witch and let go of her hand, free-falling while facing her. You extended your wings, grinning as you stretched them. Wanda had a passing thought that you were beautiful, she shut it down before it could interfere with her capabilities.

You flew through the sky with ease, closing your eyes as the wind running through your hair and every part of you. You extended your wings as far as they would reach, finally feeling free. You took in a deep breath and started throwing the bombs for the mission, a small smile on your face from the euphoria of flying.

But she couldn’t help but stare as you flew over the building, throwing bombs through the roof. Wanda went inside, easily knocking out whoever came at her. Rhodey shouted a warning to you on the comms about their advanced radar. Wanda headed outside once she got all their info on a flash drive.

You were still flying over the base, but you were trying to evade their bullets. You had been succeeding so far, Wanda looked on intently. You easily dodged them and took out the gun, but you didn’t notice one of their men on the roof with a gun.

The gunshots resonated through the air, Wanda covered her face with a mouth at the sight. The bullet hit one of your wings. You fell, blood staining your white wings as you tried to regain balance. The wind flapped past your face, you could barely see as you tumbled through the air.

Wanda felt pain pulse in the middle of her shoulder blades, she gasped and touched where it hurt.

It was the same spot where you had wings. She could feel your pain.

Wanda sprinted to where she assumed you were going to crash.

You gritted your teeth against the pain in your wings, trying to regain your balance using one wing. You narrowed your eyes as you extended your left-wing all the way to try to regain your balance. You thought it was working when you started to stabilize.

But it was Wanda using her powers to save you. Once you were safely on the ground, she ignored the pain pulsing through her back and knocked out the man who shot you. She ran over to you, turning you over so she could see your back properly.

You groaned as she did so, the pain worsening. Wanda felt it get worse, she felt the headache, your spiking heart rate, the pain in your wings. She tried to use her powers to ease the pain, she felt it lessen and she knew it was helping.

“You’re going to be okay,” She assured, you tried to nod in response. You turned your head to face her, frowning when you saw her clenched jaw and gritted teeth.

“, what’s wrong?” You murmured, reaching out your good hand to brush your fingers against her cheek.

“I feel your pain,” Wanda whispered, holding your hand against her cheek tightly. “Don’t leave me.”

Your eyes widened at her words, she was your soulmate. She was the person you’d been searching for your entire life. You needed to stay for her.

You gritted your teeth against the pain and forced yourself to get up. Wanda understood what you were trying to do and supported your weight with one hand. Your injured wing dropped behind you as you made your way inside.

“What the hell happened?” Rhodey demanded, helping you inside.

Wanda answered for you as you laid face down on the gurney, blood still seeping from your wound. The pain started to fade once Rhodey gave you an anesthetic. Wanda breathed a sigh of relief and held your hand. You turned your face to look at her, watching her.

The redhead’s heart broke at the sight of you. Your white wings stained with your blood, both of them dropped at your side. Your entire suite was dirt and blood stained.

You looked like a fallen angel.

Wanda pulled your hand closer to her lips, she kissed your knuckles softly. She used some of her magic to try to ease the pain. Thankfully, it helped ease the pain. Rhodey eventually stopped the bleeding and started flying you back to the compound.

You never tore your eyes off of Wanda the entire time, you were still shocked that you found your soulmate. You hadn’t taken the opportunity to admire her before, she was gorgeous. Her soft emerald eyes flicked to yours as you stared, her auburn hair rested on her shoulders, she was gorgeous.

“Why are you staring at me, angel?” Wanda asked softly, surprised at how easily the nickname slipped in.

You smiled at her.

“You,” You answered, taking in a deep breath. “You’re the person I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.”

“You’re not disappointed?” Wanda asked, insecurity seeping into her tone. Her other arm went to hug her midsection as she hunched over.

“Why would I be?” You asked, brow furrowing. Wanda’s green eyes avoided your gaze.

“I'm a monster, you deserve better.” Wanda murmured. You frowned and used your good wing to gently tilt her face upwards to look at you.

“You’re all I ever want in someone,” You whispered. You took your wing away from her face, scared it was making her uncomfortable.

Wanda almost cried at your words, she moved to sit closer to you. You smiled softly at her, stroking her knuckles with your thumb. You noticed her staring at your wing, you gently moved it closer to her.

“Can I?” She asked, hand hovering over your wing. You nodded and moved it closer to her hand.

Wanda’s fingers glide delicately over your wing, stroking the feathers gently. She was in awe of how beautiful they were. She couldn’t stop running her warm fingers through the soft feathers.

You giggled at the sensation, no one had bothered to touch your wings in fear of making you uncomfortable. Wanda noticed and gently ran her fingers along them, soothing you with her touch and her magic until you arrived at the compound.

After transferring you to the medical wing, she couldn’t see you. She sat in the waiting room outside after washing your blood off of her hands. The rest of the team waited to hear how the operation went. Scared that you might lose your flight, they knew it was something that meant the most to you.

The doctor came outside after the operation was over. After whispering some things to Tony, he told the rest of them your condition.

“We’ve never operated on wings before, but the bullet hit a lot of the tissue around her wings. It also grazed the bone. Thanks to the cradle, we were able to regenerate the bone tissue” The entire team breathed a sigh of relief. “But we didn’t know how to regenerate the muscle, so she won’t be able to fly for a few weeks, but she would be fine eventually.”

“Can we see her?” Steve asked the doctor nodded.

“She is unconscious right now, but we think she should be awake in a few hours.”

They nodded and asked FRIDAY to notify them when you were awake. Tony and Natasha sat in your room alongside Wanda, waiting for you to wake up.

You were laying on the bed, face down, your wings by your sides. Your left-wing bandaged with a few blood stains on it.

Tony was eventually forced to leave by Pepper on account of the press. But Natasha stayed and talked to Wanda about you. Eventually, Wanda told you that she was your soulmate.

Natasha’s eyes widened in shock, Wanda felt her heart constrict in fear. She knew that Natasha was like family to you, and her disapproval could mean the end of everything.

“I’m happy she finally found the person she had been searching for all these years,” Natasha smiled softly at her.

“You, you aren’t angry?” Wanda asked, confused.

“Why would I be? The entire team was making bets on when you’d finally start dating.” She gestured to both of you. “Anyone could see from a mile away you are made for each other.”

Natasha took Wanda’s hand and squeezed softly, smiling at her. She told Wanda about how you’d apologize for getting injured every single time because you were terrified of adding to her pain. Wanda laughed, her heart swooned at how caring you were. Before she could say anything, you stirred.

“Look who is finally awake,” Natasha commented. You turned around groggily to face them, cautious of your injury.

“I’m okay thanks for asking,” You retorted sleepily. They laughed at your comment. Natasha got up and leaned over your ear.

“You’ve got a good one angel, don’t you dare let her go,” She whispered, pulling away and winking at you.

“I won’t,” You laughed, Natasha nodded and left the both of you alone. Wanda looked in confusion from you to Natasha but decided not to push it when you turned to look at her.

“So, what’s the result?” You asked Wanda, she chuckled at your joke and leaned forwards on her elbows.

“You would be able to fly again,” Wanda stated, reaching for your hand and squeezing it as you smiled. “But it might take a few weeks for it to heal completely.”

You breathed a sigh of relief which surprised Wanda. Confusion written across her face, you weren’t going to be able to fly for a few weeks, why were you happy?

“Don’t look confused, I’ll be able to fly again eventually, it’s not all bad.” You laughed at her expression, fingers stroking her knuckles.

“Can I ask you something?” Wanda asked you nodded.

“Why do you like flying? I tried it a few times with my powers but it scares me.”

You considered the question, giving it some thought before answering.

“At first, it was scary, like most things in life. But after you start it, it’s amazing. It feels like freedom, it feels like no one can control you and you can do whatever you want. It’s almost euphoric,” You answered, eyes momentarily closing as you imagined it.

Wanda let your words soak in, she never got past the fear of flying or using her powers.

“I know you’re scared of your powers,” You stroked her knuckles to pull her out of her thoughts. “, but if you trust yourself, you might find something you like

“How do you know exactly what to say,” Wanda laughed, leaning back against the chair. You giggled.

“It’s a gift,” You winked.

A comfortable silence settled into the room. You continued to mindlessly stroke over her knuckles, deep in thought. Wanda stared at your joined hands before her gaze settled on your face and your wings. You were beautiful.

“Can I kiss you?” She blurted, eyes widening at what she said. Wanda tried to get up and apologize, but you chuckled and pulled her back down with your hand.

“I’m sorry, that was-”

“Yes, you can kiss me,” You cut her off with a soft smile on your face.

Wanda smiled softly at you, she leaned forwards in her chair slowly. She watched your features for any hints of hesitation. Instead, your eyes fluttered shut when you felt her breath fan across your face. She gently touched her lips to yours, melting into you instantly.

You subtly tugged her closer using your joined hands. Wanda sighed into your mouth as butterflies erupted in her stomach. Her free hand gently settled on your wing, slowly sliding up your wing and to the back of your neck. She drew gentle patterns on the back of your neck, making you break the kiss with a soft gasp.

“Wow,” You breathed, eyes fluttering open to look at Wanda, whose eyes were still closed. You smiled and kissed the tip of her nose, her eyes fluttered open at the contact.

“I think I found that feeling you were talking about,” Wanda whispered, smiling softly at you as she searched for the word.

“Euphoria?” You offered, she nodded and leaned in again.

You smiled into the kiss, wishing you could stay there forever.

---------------------------------

10 years later

“Alright kiddo, time to head off to bed,” You easily lifted your daughter in your arms.

The brunette protested, you laughed and started tickling her. Thanks to Tony, you were able to give birth to your and Wanda’s child. She looked like you but had Wanda’s eyes and hair.

Wanda laughed from the couch as she saw you tickle your daughter. She tried to squirm away from your grasp, eventually succeeding. Your eyes widened when you saw she was about to fall, but Wanda used her magic to keep her upright.

“Thank you, mama!” Your daughter thanked Wanda.

“Of course moya Lyubov,” Wanda grinned, scooping daughter/name up in her arms.

“Can we fly?” She asked you and Wanda glanced at each other with a grin.

“Last time before bed, okay?” You said she nodded eagerly. You bent over so you faced the ground, you extended your wings a little.

Wanda gently set her down on your back in the middle of your wings. Your daughter held on tightly to each wing as you sprinted into her room, making whooshing noises as you did so. Your wife laughed at your antics to try to put your daughter to bed.

“Careful angel,” She shouted as both of you went into her bedroom. The redhead smiled to herself and followed you in.

Eventually, you tucked her into bed and placed a kiss on her forehead as Wanda sat down on the opposite side of the bed. It was usually her job to tell her a story to fall asleep to.

“So, what’s the story for tonight?” She asked, gesturing to the large bookshelf in the corner of the room filled with storybooks.

“Tell me a different story,” Your daughter answered. You brushed the hair out of her face gently and glanced at Wanda who was as confused as you.

“About who?” Wanda asked, sitting down so she could see you and your daughter.

“About you and mommy!” She grinned, looking hopefully towards you and your wife.

“Should we tell her the story of how we met?” You asked, turning to face Wanda.

“Why not angel?” Wanda joked you laughed.

Your daughter squealed in excitement. You laughed and moved so you were lying down next to her. Your daughter’s weight supported on one wing as your other wing covered Wanda. You smiled as you watched Wanda weave together your story, the story of your family. You felt like you were flying, like euphoria.

A/N: I need to stop creating my own soulmate AUs, what do you think tho?

Tag List: @justarandomhumanhere, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @5aftermidnight, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @ophelias-heart  , @never-didbefore , @justarandomhumanhere, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn , @lesbian-x-blackwidow , @marvelbbyx , @wlw-imaginesss , @hcartbyheart , @summergeezburr let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

#marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x female reader #marvel x female!reader #marvel x fem reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #marvel one shot #marvel imagine #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x female!reader #wanda maximoff x fem reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff one shot #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x female!reader #scarlet wtich x fem reader #scarlet witch x you #scarlet wtich x y/n #my writing #my fic #MYC's writing #elizabeth olsen

[theprincesslibrary]

#26: Quid pro quo

She had a plan. A good plan, flawed of course, but a good plan nonetheless. She would march into the Azure dragon’s lair, offer him a deal he could not refuse, and spend the rest of her days in relative peace. She would not be burned alive, nor have her body desecrated postmortem. It was a good plan, albeit a bit of a crazy one.

She had carefully designed said plan for months, spent countless hours with her nose buried deep in obscure literature, practically harassed the head of the royal guard into telling her every tiny detail of his encounter with the sand dragons - the man used to boast about his tale of glory, now he couldn’t bear to utter the word dragon - but for all her effort she still wasn’t ready for the Azure dragon himself. There were a few key elements about the beast which were not accounted for in those dusty grimoires: for one, he was a man rather than a scaled monster; and two… he was incredibly handsome. He had ordered her to sit opposite him, and she had since spent a stupid amount of time staring at his face, which wasn’t all that smart considering her current predicaments. Yet, one could hardly blame her; she had been expecting a blue lizard - a giant lizard, with wings, and teeth, and claws - and she was now sitting in front of the most gorgeous man she had ever met. Nothing during her months of research had prepared her for the day's events, and she was a bit lost and quite unsure of how to proceed.  

 *****

When she had walked past the entrance on the north side of the snowy mountain, she had expected a cave or an abandoned mine; a place dark and humid, where the air would be stale, almost putrid. There would be spiderwebs on the walls and maybe a few rotting corpses lying in the shadows of a dusty corner. The place would be grim, quiet - save for the few drip drops of a leaking roof - and extremely scary. But the halls she was wandering in looked nothing like old collapsing tunnels. There were sculpted columns where she expected old support beams, and vast rooms with smooth walls instead of rough rock and loose stone. It looked more like an underground palace than it did the belly of a mountain, and she couldn’t help but be a little bit in awe of the craftsmanship required to achieve such a feat. Her father’s castle could never compare to the dragon’s lair, nothing could.

As she made her way from room to room, she found no pile of gold or shiny jewels, not that she hoped to find any, she had specifically chosen the Azure dragon for its peculiar taste in treasure. She had however expected a few rotten corpses, maybe some dead knights, or discarded armors, but again she was pleasantly surprised: not a dead body in sight. Just books, shelves after shelves for as far as the eye could see. They occupied every surface of the place: wooden tables covered in parchments, rare volumes piled up on the floor. Some piles were so high, she had to crane her neck up to see the top and almost lost her balance more times than she’d admit to. Some books were torn or half-eaten by mice, soot-stained or with missing their spines, others were brand new and carefully ordered by author and date. And everywhere the dry scent of paper mixed with the faintest bit of charcoal, a good indication that she was in the right place. Which might sound confusing to some: what kind of princess would willingly seek out a dragon? But she was desperate, and desperate times called from desperate measures. Crazy measures, some might even say. 

Now that she was deep into the beast’s lair, she was faced with two issues. One, for all her planning, she hadn’t come up with a solution to prevent the dragon from killing her without hearing her plea. She had a proposition for the creature, one that required some explaining, and she could hardly do so once reduced to a fuming pile of ashes. She had thought she’d come up with something eventually, but as her twenty-first birthday grew closer things accelerated, and now she was here, with no idea how to speak with such a being. Maybe she should send words in advance? Did Dragons get mail? And If so, who would be brave enough to deliver such correspondence? There wasn't any protocol on how to converse with a dragon. She was taught how to politely greet foreign emissaries, but somehow her etiquette lesson didn’t cover “how to greet a mighty dragon without being toasted”. Clearly a gap in her royal education. Most people - knights in search of gold and glory - marched into a dragon’s lair with two goals in mind: kill the beast and steal its treasure. They either succeeded or died, adding to the long list of nameless fools no one remembered. There was hardly any tale of them having a civil conversation with the beast. 

And either way, if she knew how to politely engage the Azure dragon, she would first need to find him. One would think a creature this size would be easy to spot, but so far she only passed by empty rooms (saves for the mountains of books) and deserted halls. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think the place to be abandoned.

As she continued her discovery of the underground palace, she stepped inside a dimly lit room, more vast than the rest, that looked like a library. There had been books in every room she visited so far, but this one looked like it was meant to hold paper and manuscript. It was dark, save for the few candles and the fire roaring in the hearth.

“Excuse me.” She called out to the shadows, not expecting an answer. She had been doing so in every room, and only got an eerie silence as a reply. So when the shadows moved in a corner of the room, she nearly jumped out of her skin. The shadow was in fact a man sitting in a chair with a heavy book in his hands. Her heart was in her throat, and it took her a few minutes to regain her composure. 

“Forgive my intrusion,” she started, “I'm looking for the Azure dragon.” 

The man barely lifted his eyes from the books to give her the most unimpressed look. He was handsome, almost painfully so: silver-white hair, high cheekbones, a jawline that could cut through glass. But his most striking features were his eyes: icy blue, pupils slit in the middle. And then everything clicked: the hair, the pointed ears, the haughty look... 

“You're one of the Elezens” she whispered dumbfounded, “It was said that your race had passed into legend.” “Sorry to disappoint.” 

Panic ran through her, insulting the very being she had come to beg for help was a mistake, insulting one of the Elezens was a death sentence. She quickly dipped in a graceful bow, knees almost touching the ground, and lowered her head as much as her spine would allow. 

“Forgive me, your grace, I spoke out of turn.”

She did not dare look at him, but she could feel his eyes on her. She could sense his disdain and perhaps a hint of curiosity. She kept her head low and her knees bent, waiting for him to speak, to dismiss her, or worse, to kill her. Her muscles screamed at her, and she secretly thanked her mother for her rigorous etiquette lessons. Lya might look frail and delicate, but she could curtsy for hours, her body well-trained to the princessly art of lowering oneself (literally) to please powerful men.

“Sit.” He finally said. “And pray tell, why is a princess seeking me out. That ought to be an interesting tale.”

For a brief moment, as she sat opposite him, nervousness overwhelmed her. Her hand clenched into her skirt, her fingers tugging at the fabric. She had not planned for this, hadn’t even considered the possibility, his kind was supposed to be extinct. This changed everything. Elezen were stronger than most dragons, smarter too. Knights didn’t kill Elezens, they simply ceased to exist; or hid in the heart of a snowy mountain, it would seem. Still, she couldn’t help but stare, he looked so… human.  

“Speak.” He ordered, “all the fidgeting and staring is deeply annoying.” “I’m sorry, your grace, I expected you to be…” “Taller?” “Bluer actually, with more scales perhaps?” “I can hardly read with a full set of claws,” he pointed out with a haughtily condescending tone.   

She swallowed heavily and nodded.  She had been willing to face a beast breathing fire, surely she could converse with a man reading a book. She hadn’t escaped her father’s dungeon and portaled all the way up north to give up now. She brushed off her skirt, took a deep breath and raised her head to meet his gaze. 

“I've come to request the honor of being your captive.” Words stumbled out of her mouth so fast she wasn’t sure she had been intelligible.  “Do I look that feeble that you’d rather be my prisoner than some baron’s wife?” He said, weary and just a little bit sharp. “Do you not fear me?” “I do, very much fear you, your grace. Even more so now that I know of your true lineage. But I wish to live, and being held captive, given the proper circumstances, seems rather small compared to losing my life.” “I don't follow.” “I was born under the blood moon, your grace…” 

She didn’t finish her sentence, didn’t need to, they both knew what it meant. Silence stretched between them, only broken by the sound of a log cracking in the fireplace. When the dragon spoke again his voice wasn’t thunderous nor loud, it wasn’t “ dragon-like ”; it was soft, barely a whisper, with a hint of sadness to it, and something else. Empathy? Pity? Most people pitied her. 

“I didn’t realize humans still followed the old ways. And they call us beasts… Very well, I can see how this agreement would benefit you, but what's in it for me?” “It is my understanding that a dragon’s reputation among his peers is correlated to the size of his hoard and his ability to keep a princess captive.” She started, glad her voice didn’t betray any of her fear. “Your hoard is rumored to be quite impressive, but you never…” 

She hesitated for a while, she needed to be careful with her words, she had insulted him once, it would be a mistake to do it again, dragons weren’t known for being magnanimous. Still, there wasn’t exactly a pleasant term to describe the situation, ‘prisoner’ seemed a bit excessive considering she was offering to be locked away in a tower of her own free will. Well, maybe not locked away, and there was no tower…but ‘guest’ would be most inappropriate. Hosts had duties towards their guests, she could not insinuate that he’d owe her anything. 

“You’ve never ‘harbored’ a princess before”, she finally settled on. “I suppose you find the task bothersome, fending off knights can be quite tiring, believe me, I know.” 

He laughed, barely a huff, but she heard it, and she liked it. It spurred her on, and she smiled in return. Maybe their shared disdain for knights could bring them to a quid pro quo. 

“I'm the thirteenth princess of the sand kingdom, hardly the golden prize, and even if a knight wanted to risk it all, well, rumor has it your hoard is made of books…” she let her eyes wander around the room, her stare landing on yet a precarious tower of volumes, minutes away from collapsing on the ground. “Not exactly the type of treasure knights tend to seek out. They're not very well-read. So you see, this agreement would benefit both of us.”  

His eyes narrowed at her as he studied her. His stare was neither cold nor disdainful, but calculating. He was appraising her, measuring her worth and deciding whether she was worth the hassle; and for those interminable seconds, she held her breath in anticipation of his response. 

“I can clean too. And sing.” She hastened to add. “I'm fairly good at enchanting animals. I could sing the rats away from your books.” 

He huffed once more, amused at her outburst.  

“No need to oversell it, Princess. You have yourself a deal.”

#FFxivWrite2021 #FFxivWrite #ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #estinien x wol #Estinien Wyrmblood #my writing #soulmate AU #AU #dragon Estinien is the hill I'll die on

[cordytriestowrite]

Excuses and Uses

Bucky Barnes x Reader

One Shot

Summary: Excuses were all you got from Bucky. Uses were all he wanted from you. (Aka I need a world where F&WS exists and until then I make up my own plots thanks)

"Bucky, what a surprise."

Your greeting was laced heavily with sarcasm. It was in fact not a surprise to have Bucky Barnes knocking on your door long after it was appropriate to receive visitors. You were in your sushi pajamas for Pete's sake! Despite those comically cute pieces of sashimi littering your clothing Bucky looked at least a little guilty to be standing in front if you, even if he had a not so cute arsenal of guns and knives littering his body you weren't intimidated. 

"I need your help."

Rolling your eyes you turned around and left Bucky in the doorway of your studio apartment. You picked up a few pieces of scattered clothing so you wouldn't attempt to wrap your hands around his thick neck and squeeze the annoying life right out of him. 

"You never come over to hang out you know. Not even to see your son!"

Bucky closed the door behind him and almost immediately Alpine was winding between his legs, rubbing and purring, happy to see his true owner. Alpine, in his snooty cat way, made sure you knew where you ranked on the totem pole despite filling his food bowl every day. 

Bucky picked up the feline and buried his face into his fluffy white fur. When he spoke again his words were muffled.

"He knows I still love him. Even if I can't see him all the time."

You honestly weren't sure if he was telling you or the cat but you felt like arguing anyway.

"I have Mario Kart. It's like, your favorite game and you don't ever come over to play."

Alpine jumped from Bucky's arms as he moved further into what was designated as the living room, even if there were no walls separating the couch from your bed, refrigerator, or washing machine. 

"I don't have time to play." 

"Bullshit." You muttered under your breath, tossing a misplaced fork into the sink, letting the loud clang of metal on metal hide the curse. Excuses and uses were all you got from Bucky and all he wanted from you. You took a few seconds to settle down before turning to face him.

"What can I do for you Bucky?"

He was in his usual spot. Not quite in the living space, not close enough to the door to be heard by a nosey neighbor, not quite close enough to you. 

"I have a lead I need you to look into."

You just didn't have the strength to keep doing this. It was late, you were tired, and honestly if Bucky wasn't going to treat you like anything more than a human search engine then you weren't interested in moving forward with this conversation.

"Go ask Sharon." You said dismissively, walking around the couch and putting more distance between you and Bucky.

"Sharon can't know about this. Sam either. You're the only one. I need you."

You ignored him. At first you there was a thrill in being Bucky's confidant, in having a secret mission just you and him, but all you ended up feeling now was lonely and more than a bit bitter. You pulled back your blankets, slid out of your slippers, and crawled into bed. 

"Agent-"

Your back was turned to Bucky. You spoke loud and clear so it would get through his thick skull, because obviously your physical dismissal of him was a bit too subtle. 

"I'm no longer an agent, Soldier. I quit remember? For you."

You turned over, the comforter pulled up to your chin so the parts of you that were exposed were cold and hard; your eyes and mouth set with stubborn lines of tension. 

"And I have a name. Do I need to remind you of it? Goodnight."

You turned your back to him again, hitting the light switch near your head and plunging the studio into darkness. You could feel Alpine's paws gently press against your toes as he joined you.

What should have come next was a few footsteps leading away from you then the opening and closing of your front door, but instead you felt the mattress dip near your hip, then a matching weight on the other side as Bucky briefly straddled you before wedging his large, fully armed and armored body between you and the wall. You could barely see him in the dark, but you could hear him clearly utter your name. You let out a hollow laugh and hoped it hid how nervous Bucky's proximity was making you.

"So you do know it. Could've fooled me."

Bucky was quiet for a long time. That combined with his uncanny ability to keep entirely still meant you drifted off and only realized it when he spoke.

"I'm sorry. I'd love to play Mario Kart."

You smiled, blinking slow as sleep made your eyelids heavy. 

"Too sleepy. In the morning." You muttered, lips barely moving to form the words. 

Gentle fingers brushed through the hair at your temple, lulling you further into an unconscious state. You resurfaced at the feeling of Bucky moving over you. Your body followed him as he made his exit

"Buck, the lead."

If the cold metal palm against your cheek wasn't enough to wake you up the press of lips to your forehead would have raised you from the dead.

"It can wait."

A few footsteps, then the opening and closing of your front door and he was gone. Your thoughts stayed on him long after he left and until the thinnest strip of sunlight colored the dark sky a dusky blue-grey. 

You woke up late the next day, much to Alpine's displeasure. He made sure to dig his claws deep enough to scratch your feet as he stretched and sauntered toward the corner kitchen. 

"Not even my cat." You grumbled, pulling back the covers and following the small white ball of attitude. He waited impatiently for his breakfast, meowing and batting at your hand when he deemed the task was taking too long by his standards. He didn't even wait for his bowl to be moved to the floor, digging in the second you finished scraping the lumpy, wet chunks of fish and carrot out of the can. 

You watched Alpine chow down without really seeing him. Your mind was back to last night and the way Bucky said your name, the way his fingers carded through your hair, the way he pressed his lips to your forehead. It all seemed so unreal, unlikely to be something that could ever happen, so you assumed your mind had made it all up. It was the only way it made sense to you.

Bucky wasn't the guy from last night, he was a super soldier with a super chip on his shoulder who happened to like Mario Kart but refused to play because God forbid he experience any joy in life. You were his pet sitter, his informant, the woman who went rogue from the new and improved S.H.I.E.L.D. the moment those big blue eyes sparkled in your general direction and just happened to steal a high tech laptop on her way out. You and Bucky Barnes weren't friends. You were just the idiot who allowed yourself to be used. You understood that now.

A knock on your door pulled you out of that head space. You shook your head and rubbed the sleep and bit of teariness from your eye before you opened the door.

It was Bucky, no longer decked out in leather and weaponry. His hair fluffy and productless, and his black and gold arm covered by a slightly baggy navy hoodie. He looked normal and that made it so odd.

"Didn't know you took days off Barnes." You greeted sarcastically, arms crossing over your sleep wrinkled sushi pajama top. 

Bucky started to smile, bit his lip to hide it, then relented to a playful smirk.

"I didn't either."

You eye him skeptically before turning around and walking into your living room, bending over to pull your stolen S.H.I.E.L.D. laptop out of its hiding place between the couch and the wall. You sat down and powered it on.

"What's the name?" You asked plainly, knowing your tone was clipped with anger despite your best efforts toseem unaffected.

Bucky closed the front door behind him before bypassing his usual spot just beyond reach to sit next to you on the couch. He was close, granted it was a loveseat and the man was thick in all the best ways, but he was closer than necessary. Knee to shoulder you were connected and in the light of day at this proximity you could see flecks of grey growing at his temple. Of course he would be a silver fox, you thought.

"Mario."

You accessed the database and typed in the name.

"Got a last name?" You asked, desperately glaring at the screen as to not give in to the desire to keep looking at Bucky up close.

"Kart."

You typed in the word and hit search and Bucky was already deep in laughter before it hit you. Slamming your laptop closed you leapt up from the couch and pulled the joycons off the dock.

Alpine, finished licking his bowl clean, finally noticed Bucky and had bounded over to claim his attention. You passed Bucky a controller and plopped back down next to him, purposely tucking yourself surely into his side. You looked at him excitedly, no longer attempting to hide behind a mask of cool indifference. He was looking back with something in his eyes that made your whole body flush with a sudden warmth. 

"So the lead can wait then?"

He nodded, happy expression turning a tad too serious as he searched your face.

"Thank you for always taking care of Alpine. And helping me with missions even though its dangerous. And introducing me to Mario Kart. And-"

You would have let him continue if your heart could handle it. It was pounding so hard against your sternum. And your mouth, it hurt with the intensity of your smile. Your eyes were misty again and before could think it through you planted a solid kiss to Bucky's stubbled cheek, silencing him instantly. It was as you pulled away, an apology already waiting on your tongue, that Bucky turned his head so his lips met yours.

Your lips tingled, numb from elation and nerves. It was a firm and warm and chaste and, while totally unexpected, perfect kiss. So maybe Bucky was the guy laying in your bed last night, maybe he was also kind of an ass who forgot that life wasn't always about the mission. People can be multidimensional!

Alpine, realizing he wasn't the center of Bucky's world at the moment, stretched up on his hind legs to swat a tiny paw against your joined lips. You separated with laughter, giving Alpine scratches behind the ears while he purred in contentment. You couldn't be upset when Bucky picked up his controller instead of kissing you again, seeing his easy smile and bright eyes was enough.

"So, Rainbow Road?"

"Oh, I'll kick your ass Barnes!"

Alpine was a great ally in distracting Bucky from beating you to the finish line and kissing was a great weapon both of you wielded excessively to the point the game was long forgotten in favor of making out on the couch. 

Before Bucky departed later that evening, after an entire afternoon with no talk about a mission or a lead and without any brooding or far away gazes, you wondered if it was too good to be true. He had to feel the change in your posture when he asked between open mouth kisses against your neck.

"Take a look into that lead for me?"

You pulled away, your glare intense.

"Just tell me if you're just using me. With Alpine, intel, or now being your fuck buddy, whatever. I don't want excuses, Bucky. I don't want to be lied to."

Bucky didn't have to have to open his mouth to say anything, his eyes so expressive in initial surprise, then anger so great it tightened the muscle in his jaw, his expression settled into a somber determination and when he opened his mouth you wished you had never said anything and just enjoyed the attention.

"No excuses. I'm not good at...I spent so long being used I don't think I know…"

You wrapped your arms around Bucky. It was awkward with your position on the couch and how broad his shoulders were but it seemed important to just hold him. He held you back in strong and solid arms  you weren't sure you would ever be held by again. You had your cheek pressed against his shoulder and eyes steadfast on the coffee table as you took a deep breath and tried not to cry. If this was a hug of comfort you weren't sure who was supposed to be feeling comforted. To you it felt like a hug goodbye, because no way could you keep doing this. 

"Figure it out, okay."

Bucky left not long after, untangling from you while keeping his head down, scooping up Alpine on his way out. 

You thought that was going to be it from him. You didn't expect Bucky to recover from decades of abuse anytime soon so you went on with your life. Sharon stopped by to collect the stolen laptop, promising no one would know where it snuck off to in the last few months. You stayed home a lot, willfully ignoring the reason you stayed home every night was in case Bucky stopped by. You bought new pajamas with little white kittens on them, then promptly shipped them back after opening the box.

You finally got off your ass and got a new job. Private and slightly sketchy, but confirmed by Sharon it wasn't the world dominating kind of sketchy, the job was right in your comfort zone. Bright and early you were dressed and ready to head out for your first day of work and when you opened the door you almost ran into the wall of metal and muscle that is Bucky Barnes. 

"Bucky? And Alpine!"

A small white head poked sleepily out of Bucky's worn leather jacket. Alpine yawned before meowing up at Bucky who instinctively stroked a few fingers between his ears.

"Sharon said you were starting your new job today and I-we, me and Alpine, wanted to come wish you luck."

You tried not to frown, not wanting to give the wrong impression, so you turned around and locked your door at a deliberately slow pace. Had he been keeping tabs on you or was it just some small talk with Sharon? By the time you turned back around you couldn't help but smile at the sight before you.

Bucky, short hair combed neatly, leather riding jacket zipped up to hold his kitten securely to his chest, hands gloved, jeans dark. He looked cool and confident until you looked into his eyes and saw how out of his depth he really was. 

"Walk me to work?"

Bucky nodded, shoulders sagging in what seemed to be relief. You spent the walk catching up and laughing. It felt like Bucky and you had finally reached a friendship that wasn't based on how you could be benefit to him. 

Until Bucky moved in for a goodbye hug while you leaned in to kiss his cheek. Then it was more like a two idiots fiercely making out in front of one of those idiots new place of employment until the receptionist asked you to move the show somewhere else. But the two idiots agreed to talk later over a game of Mario Kart.

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[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Thranduil Imagine

Imagine being a modern human and meeting the King of the Elves

Fem! Reader

He relished the memory of that faithful day--- the day when you fell from the sky and landed right in front of his kingdom's doors, a cart filled with decorative flowers cushioning your impact. The flowers having been meant for a special celebration that was to coke in a few days.

He had watched the entire scene from afar, having come back from a ride in the forest. Eyes wide in awe as a rain of pink and red petals fell upon you, framing the crown of your head. Luscious locks of (H/C) cascading down your shoulder as the white, gleaming dress you wore flowing around you. The ends having hitched up to the end of your thigh, revealing the skin of your calves, the silver heels on adorning your feet arched in such a graceful manner. A look of wonder on your features.

The sight of a true goddess.

He remembered how he had succumbed to speechlessness as he breathlessly watched his soldiers surround you, spears aimed at you. And yet, you bared not a single hint of fear in your eyes. Instead, you eyed each and every one of his men, curiosity glimmering in your orbs.

Many would stare at the weapons in their hands, imagining if the many ways in which they could kill them. But not you. No, you made eye contact with each one of his men, smiling softly at them. Imagine the shock he felt when he caught his men falter in position, slightly lowering their spears at the sight of your smile.

It was then that you made locked eyes with him. His icy, cautious blue eyes meeting your own warm (E/C), full of depth and wonder. Thranduil briefly glanced towards your ears, gaze falling onto the sight of your human appendages. He would never admit it, but he was partly hoping that you were Elven.

The sound of your voice managed to snap him out of his train of thoughts, a slight blush coming to sit upon his pale cheeks as he found that it pleased him to hear it. He had to suppress the shiver that threatened to swim down his spine.

"Where am I?"

_______________________________________

You could remember the day as if it were the back of your hand---er, maybe? You didn't really pay attention to your hands but the saying goes spoke that so....

One moment you're on Earth, at a Halloween party dressed as some princess (in reality you just happened to have the dress laying around and Halloween was a perfect excuse to wear it). You had left your friends on the dance floor to go get some fresh air, the humidity of the room having almost suffocated you to death.

Standing by the crowded patio of the house, you gazed upon the moon and its sea of stars. The hundreds of troubling thoughts in your head disappearing once you stared into the infinity of the sky. Plus, the alcohol in your system did wonders.

You had been quietly watching the night go by when a blue light suddenly ignited in the corner of your eyes. Turning to face it, you traced it back to the forest area of the backyard.

If you had been sober, you would've never dared to go near it. But you weren't. With the alcohol in your blood blocking all good judgment on your part, your legs had directed you to the forest edge. The sight of a human-sized glowing blue hole greeting you.

"Woahhhhhh this some fantasy shit." You said, stepping closer to the hole, trying to take a peek inside of it. It looked like it was a rift inside space and time.

Cool.

And without a second thought, hell, without even a first thought, you walked right into it.

Next thing you knew you were falling from like 100 feet in the air, the buzzing in your head soon to be gone as adrenaline and panic settled in your mind.

"Holy shit!!!!" You screeched at the top of your lungs staring straight down to the ground below you. The ground that was becoming ever so clearer and bigger by the second. You fainted by that point. Only to wake up in a bed of pretty flowers, petals falling over you like rain.

A dazed look in your eyes, your body and mind desperately trying to stop the dizziness that was beginning to consume you. After a few thirty seconds, you had managed to regain focus on the whole situation. Your attention soon falling onto the strange men dressed in gold armor that were surrounding the....you looked around...the cart you had fallen into, spears in their hands, aimed right at you.

Oh wow. Okay. Shit. This is weird. Okay fuck, what do I do?

You wordlessly stared at the group of...soldiers? This better be a dream. Cause you could already feel a level of panick start to fill up within you. You made eye contact with each one of them, not having meant to, but you were nervous so yeah. An awkward smile coming to sit upon your lips as eyes glimmered with a hint of hidden horror and curiosity. Letting your eyes trail to the side, you caught sight of a gorgeous man saddled onto a large....elk????? Oh my.

Long silky white hair glimmered under the light of the sun, making it look as though there was a halo on the top of his head. His skin appeared to be as smooth as porcelain, not a single flaw or blemish upon it. He wore an awe-filled expression on his face, his pale lips pulled into a small o-shape. Finally meeting his cerulean blue eyes, you gathered the courage to utter,

"Where am I?"

____________________________________________

(A/N): Please excuse if I get shit wrong, I don’t know much about The Hobbit. I’ve only read some things and watched some of the movies, I just really liked this character and I really wanted to write something about him.

Next time I’ll do more research.

Hoped you enjoyed!

#thranduil x reader #thranduil #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit imagine #thranduil imagine #imagine #short imagine #short fanfic #short fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #reader #reader insert #readerinsert #romace #modern!reader #au #modern #elves

[itsmypeach13]

[Please welcome my first ever fanfic series chapter 1🤭The story contains of f/f relationships, centres around Asassins Creed Valhalla women female Eivor, Soma Jarlskona(the Bear Heart is my own nickname I gave her will be often used 😁), Randvi, Valka and other fictional characters. It is for +18 readership as it may contain explicit language, drinking, sexual intercourses, fighting in battles. Please bare these in mind before reading.]

TALES OF THE BEAR-HEART:SOMA

CHAPTER I.

A Letter from the Wolf-Kissed

Soma's POV:

I opened my eyes swiftly , my head was heavy with the thoughts swirling inside after a sleepless night. A warming beam of light brightened my room as the sun was rising slowly outside. I turned to my side and looked at the empty side of the bed. I ran my fingers slowly on the cold pillow and let out a sigh. It doesn't matter how many girls of Gratenbridgeshire offered themselves to me , this place belongs to Eivor. Well, only in my dreams..she haunts me like a she-wolf hunrgry to taste meat and blood. And I would always face this wolf, giving in and letting my walls down for her, but this world was apart from reality.

I had a jarldom to rule and protect my people, today was no different either. Just when I finished dressing up I heard knocking on the door like a bear would rant at me from outside.

'Splendid morning Soma, I know you had fun with that blonde amazon last night, I came to make sure we arrive on time , so get your ass out here.'- Revna greeted me with her raspy voice. She was my right hand in ruling the town , my finest warrior and my best friend in one tall, brunette woman. She was even taller then Eivor and always carried two hammers on her sides. Her weapons put many fine men in the grave , Revna was a beast on the battlefield, but a big hearted puppy to her loved ones. She and I grew closer after Birna left us, I needed somebody to trust.

'You think yourself a seeress of all.I haven't slept a bit, even without any ladies invited in my bed-I stepped out of the door grinning, and placed my hand on her shoulder.' Don't worry my friend, Cheolbert must be still sleeping like a baby.

We both headed to the longhouse as Cheolbert arrived late at night and asked an assemby in the morning. I didn't know what was it about, so I felt curious to know. I peaked towards the main entrance seeing jarls arriving on horseback from the neighbouring jarldoms. It must be either a wedding or war ahead of us, I thought to myself.

'What is on your mind Soma? You seem a bit worn-out this morning.-Revna questioned me by gently pushing my right arm. I didn't want to tell her the truth , that Eivor was the cause of my insomnia.

'Everything is fine Revna , it was full moon yesterday and you know well I can't sleep when it comes'-I assured my shield maiden. 'We have a long day ahead of us, I count on you if we have to fight side by side again.'

Revna silently nodded and hurried to the front of the assembly. The longhouse was filled with people, curious eyes were glued to Cheolbert who stepped in , wearing a glorious red and white cloak and black learher tunic. Our eyes met and he signalled me he wanted to speak in private at the side first.

We both went to the map room, his blue eyes were narrow and mysterious. I gave him a welcoming hug.

'Cheolbert my dear friend, I swear you've grown a feet since we last met.'-I teased.

' Soma, good to meet again, I wish the circumstances were different.'

'What happened? '-I grew impatient and started walking up and down.

'Eivor told me to hand over this letter to you first'.-he held out a letter with a raven seal. I turned my back so that he can't see my face, and I felt the world around me spin. Is she in trouble? Is she alright?

Dear Soma,

I write you in haste now, as your rotten friend Brina , whom you kept so close to your heart as a pet has betrayed all of us. She is a serpent who slyly earned your trust. She got married to Ivarr the Boneless and they sworn revenge on both Ravensthorpe and Gratenbridgeshire. Ivarr wants to be king of this continent...son is like farher. Their fleet is now close to us, we must unite our men and act swiftly. Please come as fast as you can to Ravensthorpe. I already informed your neighbours, I sent Cheolbert to gather all the men at Gratenbridgeshire.

When we win there will be a cause of celebration I sware to you dear. With all my thanks.

Eivor the Wolf-Kissed

My heart grew heavy with disappointment and sadness over hearing what Birna brought for our people. After all I had two friends betray me, I will cut the throat of this traitor too I swore to myself.

I felt blood rush to my cheeks as the word 'dear' was ringing like a bell in my head. The wolf could play mind games with me even if she wasn't here.

The assemby was quick, I told my people to gather every man to fight for the woman who made this place a safe home for us. I climbed up to my black mare after putting on my silver and blue gear and dictated a rushed tempo for our horses on the way to Ravensthorpe, so our army arrived the same afternoon. I held my back tightly and confident in my straddle to show people a firm leader. As we rode closer to the gates a flood of excitement gripped my stomach. It was funny because I feared not the bloodshed of war or heavy strikes of axes, but seeing the deep blue eyes of Eivor again. Too afraid what I would see in the reflection of her endless iris. Just when I was confident enough to let the idea of the two of us together go , I knew it well the depth of her eyes will eat me alive again. Somehow Freya threads our paths in the same direction? Why does she condemned me to suffering?

***

As I got off my mare at the entrance of the longhouse Valka humbly walked up to me and greeted with a tusk of her best mead. It was a secret recipe I was obsessed with so Eivor sometimes sent a few barrells to me. Valka made the sweet liquid with a hint of star anise and petals of orange jasmine.

'Now that you are finally here the universe is balanced'- she winked handing over the mead. I had no idea what she mean by that, but I gratefully accepted and took a long shot.

'Thanks Valka, I am happy to see my favourite seeress. -I winked at her and slightly raised my tusk.' May this give me strength and fortune on the battlefield.

'Freya will have her hand on your shoulder , she has plans with you.'

This conversation made me suspicious Valka had a vision of the future and it seems I am the part of it. Anyhow, I was sure of one thing, my duty is to be here and help.

'I can't wait to fulfill my destiny, my friend. Whatever the future holds I am ready to take it in.'

In that moment Eivor rushed out of the longhouse seeming quite annoyed with something her rough hands forming into fists. She looked astonishing, deadly in her black and gold armor, the axe of her father as a token swagged on her side. Even if it was a brief moment, I saw her eyes widened at the sight of me, her look pierced into my soul when she smirked at me. She was saying without words that she was grateful that I came and trusted me, this filled my heart with warmth and my chest swelled.

'Dear Soma' -she spoke with her deep, raspy voice that was stealing my sanity every time I heard her close.'I knew you would come and aid us in the moment of need.'-she took my right hand for a moment then let it fall back.

'You know I'll always be there like a true friend. It's my pleasure.-Eivor's smile ended at the word friend, but people around us were staring and we weren't more than that behind their backs either.

To cut off our slightly awkward meeting, Randvi stormed out of the wooden bulding her cheeks burning, and arms folded. She looked like a child who didn't get the piece of cake. I wondered what happened between those two in there. In the second she caught a glipse of me and Eivor standing quite close , Randvi joined between us and politely thanked me to bring a huge force here. She was a perfect diplomat and an impeccable service around me after that.She arranged a dinner for only the leaders and jarls to lay out the plan for tomorrow's battle. We decided to surprise Birna and Ivarr and hide our best archers in the woods until they ride towards the gates. I must admit I can see now why Eivor loves Randvi. The copper-haired woman was not only beautiful with soft features, but intelligent in a way that humiliated the man leaders here.

It felt extremely hard to look at Randvi and listen to the details as I felt my helpless jealousy hit me like a wave. It angered me how Eivor drunk every word she uttered her eyes sometimes wandered lover than Randvi's lips.

After dinner I wanted to retreat to my tent as soon as possible , the sight of Eivor and Randvi in the same room sickened me. Before I could do that Randvi came to me with a letter.

'Soma, wait. Let me give this letter to you.' she instructed quickly.

'Who is it from?'-I enquired furrowing my brows with second guessing.

'It's uh..from me actually...-she hesitated then blurted out' there are certain things you better read than hear me say it out loud.'

This fucking woman had guts to speak to me like that..I knew it was intently personal. She must have heard rumors of Eivor's visits to me sometimes, but hardly knew the wolf was only hers not mine for a single bit.

'How thoughtful of you. The rumors are true , you really have balls in spite of being a shieldmaid. I will read your bedtime story later, now if you excuse me.' Randvi 0-Soma 1. Every inch of me wanted to tear off she seal and read it right away but I waited until I was left alone in the provacy of my tent.

Jarl Soma,

Please let me be honest and plain with you. Eivor's invite here was merely political. I know more than anyone how she behaves around women to get what she wants. I have firsthand experience in that. But you have to know Eivor doesn't look at you like a woman, she told me she sees a long lost older sister in you. If I were you, I would think twice what I let people gossip about and make a fool of myself.

Randvi

In the second I finished reading I crumpled the piece of paper and thowed behind my back. Her words were agressive and protective just like a female wolf and I could feel Randvi's bite marks on my neck.

I decided not to believe anything until I asked Eivor.. oh but how could I do that? The wolf would realise I cared about her in a different way, and I couldn't let that happen until she gives me something. A flickering sign in the hollowing darkness I am living in.

I decided to visit Valka and have drinks together, I desperately needed somebody to keep my mind of this mess I became part of.

***

The little hut stood with watchful eyes on the slight hill close to the village. There were died flowers hanged outside and a sweet smoky and flowery scent filled my nostrils. As I get close I recognized Valka now wearing a red gown with hood on her head. She looked like Freya preparing a love potion as she was pouring something in a tusk and put some petals on the top.

'Good Evening Valka.. I hope you don't mind my late night visit. I just needed some of your special mead I guess and my feet brought me here' I stared to her fiery reddish brow eyes. She had neat tattos on her face forming dots and gentle marks on her smooth skin.

'I knew you would come tonight, so I prepared this mead with some herbs that will rock you in a pleasant slumber.'she handed over the tusk , the liquid looked like shiny rubies.

'How is that you always know better what I need than myself?-I smirked at her and found comforting in her eyes.

'A gift from the gods my lady-her eyes had a mysterious spark in them, a little dimple formed on her face from smiling.

'Come sit with me inside, it is getting cold out here.'

I nodded and followed the seeress into the firm hut, theought the entrance ornamented with animal bones and more dried flowers.

There was a freshly lit fire inside warming up my limbs and cheeks. It also colored the space with wrath orange that played on our faces like the sunset.

'Now tell me, what makes your heart heavy?'-she asked with care.

'I think I feel a bond to Eivor that is irrational and grows between us every time we meet. It is like an invisible string pulls me towards her maybe it's the wish of the Gods.-I sipped bitterly in the mead , a slight soothing feeling ran through my body.

'We both know our fate is inevitable, so you have to show what's inside your heart first.' -Valka looked deeply in my eyes. -You are Soma, our fearless Bear warrior sent by Freya to our aid and to fight on Eivor's side.

'Randvi told me Eivor loves me with a sisterly care.. I image she is right., look at her, she could have anybody.

'Don't listen to Randvi , she is hurt and trapped in her own feeling of helplessness. If she can't have Eivor accepted by the public, then nobody can'-Valka nodded and squuezed my hand.

'I just can't trust people anymore Valka. My love towards people turned into a bitter storm inside me.-Except for Revna, I couldn't trust a soul, not even Eivor. She didn't reveal her hidden side to me.

'Just talk to her in the morning, it will ease your turmoil Soma.-she winked and headed to bed. To my utter surprise she started to undress in front of my sleepy eyes, they popped in surprise no matter the mead.

Valka's toned back was shining under the wrath orange fireligt, she revealed her impeccably and naked body.

'Good night Valka, I have to get some sleep now. Thank...you...for uh.. everything!' I mumbled to her and hurried to my hut until I was able to stand still. Before sleep my head was filled with Eivor's piercing eyes and... I was a bit surprised but Valka's slender back flashed through as well. Damn, this woman was also fine. Like all women!

My eyelids felt to heavy , soon enough I was fast asleep like a newborn baby.

#fanfiction #eivor #ac eivor #eivor wolfkissed #female eivor #ac valhalla #lady eivor #assassin's creed valhalla #eivor wolfsmal #ac soma #somabearheart #soma jarlskona #eivor x soma #ac valhalla fanfic

[alexadru]

White Knight - Pay & Play to Win (Fate Grand Order edition)

Weiss had often wondered what made Ruby waste so much of her time on her scroll and when she had asked the question one day, her leader had simply shown her.

Fate Grand Order. 

That was the title of the mobile game Ruby was sinking at least a couple of hours a week. Time which she could have spent improving her grades and becoming a better leader. The young girl was the face of team RWBY, after all, and Weiss would not settle for less than the very best.

That said, she did not have any particular complaints about her progress over the months, but she disagreed with all the time she was wasting pointlessly on a silly game. 

A fact which she voiced without any restraint and which incurred another childish (in Weiss' opinion) argument between the two girls.

Ruby: "It's not childish! It's based on the greatest heroes from Earth's history, their stories and it has many life lessons. Plus, it's fun."

Weiss simply shook her head at the absurdity of her argument. She found it hard to believe that some fictional characters and their half thought out stories could ensnare people into playing that game for hours.

Ruby: "Why don't you give it a try first before you say it's childish? I bet you'll change your mind."

Another absurdity uttered by her partner, but, against her better judgement, Weiss, decided to give the game a try. If nothing else, but to prove Ruby wrong. 

After an entire week and a lot of wear to her scroll's battery, Weiss would have an epiphany and would, begrudgingly, agree with Ruby. This game was fun.

From the intriguing story, the likes of which Weiss had never seen or read to the beautiful art of the characters, the heiress could say she was hooked. She continued to play regularly, enjoying the experience as she continued to make progress through the story.

Weiss had not reached the point where she would spend money to get certain characters like she had heard from Ruby that some players did. That was until she saw him and she literally fell in love.

After spending a substantial portion of her allowance to get him when he was in the gacha, her joy could be heard across campus as she literally screamed like a fangirl when he answered her summons.

Her object of adoration? The servant Saber, King Arthur. He was everything she dreamed about. From his kind, loyal and slightly playful attitude to his charming, soft looks which made her blush every time he'd give a smile when she would level him up.

These were all traits that she had voiced quite often to her team, which was present in the room on the day the Weiss alarm rang for the first time. Weiss talked so casually about the game these days that it showed just how much she was sucked into this world.

One Saturday, as Weiss was farming like mad for materials to make her prince perfect, Ruby said something that changed her perception on life.

Ruby: "Hey, Weiss. Don't you think that Arthur is kind of like Jaune?" The girl commented as she busied herself leveling up a well known red Archer.

The innocent remark was met with the heiress looking up from the device abruptly, ready to refute the claim and defend the knight. However, Weiss stopped short to consider her words for a few moments. Moments which turned into seconds which then turned into minutes. Her eyes widened as if she reached a revelation. 

Ruby... was right! 

Abruptly, she jumped on her feet and walked out of the room with hurried steps. The rest of team RWBY heard her knock on JNPR's door. It opened moments later.

From the other side, Jaune had answered with a bit of apprehension. It wasn't often that someone would knock so loudly on his team's dorm room, except for Nora when she'd forget her scroll. What he didn't expect to see in front of his eyes was the familiar figure of his former(?) crush which he was trying to move on from with little success.

Jaune: "Weiss? Is everything alright…" The boy didn't get to finish as her hand grabbed his wrist, earning his full attention.

Weiss: "Come with me for a bit!" 

Unable to resist, he was dragged away by the small girl. Weiss had surprised him by how strong her grip was as she led him somewhere. The poor boy was caught so off guard, he couldn't do anything.

30 minutes later, Jaune found himself in the changing room of a store. It wasn't an ordinary store, however, but one that specialised in cosplay. Outfits belonging to famous fictional characters were sold here and for some reason, he found himself ready to change into one.

Of all the places in Vale, he did not expect the girl to bring him here. Nevermind the fact that she had given him an outfit and was told to try on, something from a game Ruby played if he remembered correctly. 

It was very unusual from the normally serious Weiss he knew. Still, he begrudgingly started undressing and putting on the outfit, having a new-found appreciation for the people who enjoyed cosplaying.

Weiss waited outside the changing room for 10 minutes, her mind a jumbled mess of thoughts. All ranging from curiosity about how Jaune would look to her slightly panicking that she acted so out of character and dragged him without giving a single explanation.

Looking at her feet she considered her thoughts about the boy and found that she didn't know how to feel about him. Given what occurred in the last few months, Weiss genuinely didn't know the nature of their relationship. She never thought of him much before and only recently started noticing him.

Her head snapped back up when she heard the door open.

Jaune had exited the changing room looking awkward. His steps were hesitant as if he didn't know how to walk properly in the extravagant armor. Oddly enough, despite having more layers on him, he felt a lot more exposed as if a lot more eyes were on him. Which could very well be the case, the store was huge and packed with other customers.

In his personal opinion, when Jaune checked himself in the mirror before exiting, he found that the look suited him. The blue went well with his eyes and while the silver armor was not that special, the gold accents brought everything together, matching his hair as a bonus. 

However, he looked nervously at the girl who had dragged him here. Jaune didn't know why, but he felt that she had done this for a reason and while she didn't share that reason, he hoped that he didn't disappoint her.

Weiss was quiet. Almost unusually so, despite her normally verbose self. She had seen the boy exit the changing room, donning the clothes she had picked for him and her mind came to a halt.

Baby blue eyes danced around, drinking in the sight of Jaune cosplaying the prince of her dreams. The boy who had both annoyed her the most and had been the kindest to her.

Weiss: "Jaune, would you smile for me, please?" She requested quitely.

Jaune: "What?" He didn't have a good feeling about the situation. Not with how quiet Weiss was being, her previous scrutinising gaze only adding to his nervousness.

Weiss: "Just… just give me your best charming smile."

And her weird requests kept coming. Jaune was smart enough to not question them, so he did as she requested. He tried to smile once, but it felt shaky, so he stopped, took a deep breath and tried again, his thoughts on how the beautiful girl in front of him made him feel before.

Weiss' breath hitched in her chest as she looked at him. It was impossible how well he fit the look. Everything from the blonde hair, his tall and lean physique to his boyish face was a near exact match to the Saber Servant. The only discrepancy was the eye color, deep blue instead of aqua. No less perfect in her vision.

Her face burned.

The old saying turned out to be true. The clothes did make the man and in this case, they made Jaune into her dream.

Jaune: "Weiss?" He stopped smiling and was a bit worried that she had yet to say anything. 

His words seemed to have been a wake up call as she acted almost immediately. Abruptly, her small hands pushed Jaune back until he was inside the changing room again. The surprise gesture made him trip and fall on his butt inside the small room.

Weiss had followed him inside with no hesitation. After closing the door, she wasted no time in straddling him by sitting in his lap and giving him a deep, hot kiss, catching him completely off guard.

They broke it off after nearly a minute. The two panted as they struggled to regain their breaths, Weiss managing to do so much quicker.

Jaune: "W-weiss? Why di…?" To say he was shocked was an understatement. This went beyond anything he expected to happen when she had dragged him with her.

Weiss: "Where have you been all my life?" Her purring voice nearly made him melt from all the affection it held.

Jaune: "I-I've literally been asking you out for weeks." Did she really not notice him all those times?

Weiss: "Nevermind that. What matters now is that we're here and we can do whatever we want." To prove her point, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned forward until her body was pressed completely against his, feeling everything. She pressed her forehead against his, the intense gaze in her eyes sent shivers down his spine.

Jaune: "I think I need an adult…" As freaked out as he was by her gesture, he could not deny the butterflies he felt in his stomach or how hot his cheeks felt. Weiss Schnee had kissed him and it made his heart start a marathon in his chest.

Weiss: "I'll make a King out of you." With a slow, sensual lick, she wet her lips and captured his again. This time, her fingers went through his hair as she got lost in the sensation. Weiss nearly moaned when she felt his hands on her slim waist, pulling her closer as he began reciprocating.

They continued like this until the staff found them and kicked them out for indecency. Weiss managed to somehow buy the outfit anyway, though. 

Now they simply walked around Vale with the heiress hugging his right arm to her body closely and leaning her head against it. The boy blushed all the way, but remained quiet. 

The day had only begun for them.

#rwby white knight #rwby weiss schnee x jaune arc #rwby weissgold #rwby weiss x jaune #rwby weiss schnee #rwby weiss #rwby jaune arc #rwby jaune #rwby jaune arc x weiss schnee #rwby jaune x weiss #jaune arc x weiss schnee #jaune x weiss #yellowsnow rwby #fate grand order #fate series #arthur pendragon fate #gacha hell #rwby

[author-morgan]

Oof I have a craving for Jealous!Alexios, but I can't decide between post-Deimos Alexios or just good ole Regular Alexios?? It's an ongoing struggle! But then I'm also intrigued at Alexios meeting Eivor, or post-Deimos Alexios fighting alongside Kass and absolutely LOSING it when she gets injured in battle? I... *sigh*... take your pick if any of these interest you! I trust you and your writing :P

sorry it took so long, but here ya go! went with jealous Deimos, hope you don’t mind.

Deimos!Alexios x fem!Reader

DEIMOS ADJUSTS THE bronze fibulae at his shoulder, shifting around on his feet —uncomfortable with how vulnerable he feels wearing the deep scarlet exomis. He is not used to being without the black-and-gold armor of the Cult nor without his sword but tonight duty demands it. Part of his unease fades as he watches you on the opposite side of the room.

The nigh threadbare material of your chiton puddles around your feet, but you are quick to slide into the deep blue peplos. “Aphrodite would be envious,” he remarks moving to stand before you, in his hand is a golden necklace with red and green stones. Warmth rushes to your cheeks at his flattery —he had been doing that often as of late. Pulling your hair aside, Deimos drapes the jewelry over your head, securing the hook clasp at the back of your neck.

“It’s not wise to invoke her wrath, Deimos,” you chide. The goddess rarely took kindly to being compared to mortals. He rolls his eyes and unwittingly reaches out, thumb tracing over your cheek —tinted pink with crushed rose and red wine. The urge in his heart says to give into years of longing and kiss you, but there is a lump in his throat, and it does not fade. You look up at him, wondering what thoughts plague his mind, and why he ignores the clear connection time has forged between you. Sighing, you step back, and his hand falls back to his side —clenching into a tight fist. “We should go,” you remind him. Deimos nods.

Samos is unlike the rest of the Greek world, despite the corruption of its leader —it is peaceful and prosperous. The agora of the polis is filled with famed Samian wine and oils coveted by Athenian citizens and Olympic athletes alike. Compared to the busy streets of Kirrha and the constant influx of pilgrims seeking wisdom in Delphi, you think a quiet place such as this would not be such a terrible place to live. The thought brings a distant dream back to the forefront of your mind as you look around the seaside city and to Deimos at your side. Maybe one day we can stay in a place like this, you think.

“I despise these things,” he says, brows settling into a deep furrow as you both stop at the villa’s entrance. Deimos preferred to keep to himself if he could not be with you, and he dreads large gatherings —like the one you must attend tonight. The Cult suspects Lasthenes of Samos is dealing information to their adversaries and slowing them from reaching their goals in the Southern Sporades. They have sent their champion to find if there are any truths in the rumors —you accompany him as a temper. Of all the people in Hellas, only you could quell the fire when it burned too hot in Deimos.

You reach for his hand out of impulse —surprised when he slips his fingers between yours. “I don’t care for them either,” you tell him, something about symposiums always puts you on edge, “but at least we’re together.” His lips kink into a fleeting smile, it feels like a small victory to know you are at his side. It does not last long, though as the ladies in attendance sweep you away into conversation, leaving the men to the andron and courtyard.

Time blurs with the droning gossip, tiring of the talk you slip down the stairs from the rooftop and back to the courtyard, eyes scanning those gathered for Deimos. He is not to be seen. Sighing, you turn your sights to the kitchen —eager to fill your belly with wine. Your plan is thwarted when Lasthenes approaches, a serpent’s smile crossing his pinched face. The leader of Samos is garbed in fine robes bought with the blood of innocents.

“Aphrodite has come to visit Samos it seems,” Lasthenes remarks, lifting a jeweled hand to your cheek. You step away from the leader, turning your cheek away from his unwelcome touch. Deimos lingers just out of sight, the blood in veins beginning to boil. “Tell me how I know every face on this island–” Lasthenes steps toward you again, you back hitting one of the marble columns surrounding the perimeter of the courtyard “–and yet I have never seen yours.” It was uncommon for strangers to be invited to his symposiums —even the hetaerae had familiar faces.

You know why Deimos had been sent to Samos and Lasthenes would be more apt to dispel an accidental truth to you rather than him. Drawing in a long breath, you decide to play along. “I have traveled all the way from Delphi to be here tonight,” you tell the leader, taking the offered cup of wine. That much is true, you and Deimos had sailed from Phokis nigh a week ago and had spent two nights on Samos, waiting for tonight.

“The Goddess of love and beauty has travelled far, then,” Lasthenes says, silver-tongue not missing a beat. You laugh, brushing back what hair slips from its bindings and taking a gulp of the sweet watered wine. “Is it to your taste?” He inquires. You nod in response, though before you can speak another man, garbed in Persian robs interrupts —leaning close to whisper something in his ear.

It is not so low that you cannot overhear, though. He speaks of a meeting between a Spartan general and Persian merchant and you can make out the name Perikles on the man’s lips, too. “I’ll be there shortly,” Lasthenes replies, turning his attention back to you. “Those affairs can wait,” he assures, resting his hand on your arm, “I’d like to learn of the goddess before me.” You force a smile and however insincere it may be, Lasthenes takes no notice of it.

When the leader motions toward a private room, you spot Deimos among those gathered alas. His face is almost as red as the exomis he wears, and his hands are clenched into fight fists at his sides. You recognize the cold anger in his dark eyes, but there is something else too. Deimos storms from the villa. Had it been up to his digression, Lasthenes would be dead —anyone suspected of trading secrets would be inclined to actually do it for the right incentives. But that is not all that weighs on his mind as he leaves the symposium.

Your gaze follows Deimos until you can no longer see him. “I have to go,” you announce, somewhat apologetic while looking back over your shoulder at the leader —noticing the suspicion growing in his stare. Lasthenes says nothing as he watches you leave.

Finding Deimos is not difficult as he often ends up on a beach when something has gone wrong or is bothering him. He paces back-and-forth on the white sand before the villa. To anyone else he is a caged animal in these moments —dangerous and to be avoided— but to you he is still Deimos. You step into his path, placing your hand on the center of his chest. “Deimos,” you sigh, “what is it?” His dark gaze flicks downward before he looks at you.

Then you see the glint in his tawny-gold eyes and understand why is acting this way. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” you tell him, lips turning upward into a smile. He huffs, brows furrow, though now his anger has faded. You move the hand on his chest up to his cheek —tracing over the scar below his eye. Had it not been for having to leave earlier, perhaps something could have happened between the two of you.

Without thinking, you push up onto your toes, if Deimos will not act then you will. Your lips find his under the silver light of the moon and stars. His hands are quick to settle on your hips, pulling you closer. It feels like a dream and if it is, Deimos never wishes to wake. All his unease fades into nothing. Feet entangled in the excess fabric of your peplos, you topple forward —not expecting it, both you and Deimos fall back into the sand.

“You don’t have to worry about anyone else, Deimos,” you confess. Flattery and gifts could never buy your love or affection, for your heart already belonged to another. His fingers brush your cheek, moving back into your hair. Despite his sour mood and what had transpired at the symposium, his gaze is soft as he fights to hold back a smile. “My heart is yours.” It had been for some time.

You do not expect Deimos to say anything in turn —he is a man of few words and it may take him a while to find the right ones to say. But the way he kisses you is more than enough for now. Deimos holds you close under a clear night sky —waves breaking softly on the shoreline— as you exchange tender caresses and slow kisses, making up for lost time.

[@novastale @fjor-ok-skadi ]

#Alexios #Deimos #Alexios x Reader #Deimos x Reader #Alexios Imagine #Deimos Imagine #Alexios Fanfiction #Deimos Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Imagine #Assassin's Creed Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Odyssey #AC: Odyssey #my writing #wallsarecrumbling #requested

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 22: Five-Dimensional Man-Go

This is a session I’ve been looking forward to for quite some time. I get to introduce three of my favorite characters in the entire campaign. 

In the real world it’s been a while, but this was the session we officially welcomed a new chaos goblin player to the table. And damn, am I glad we did.

Valeria goes to Hoeska’s armor smiths for some upgrades, and accidentally kicks off a goth fashion montage. Her new armor has gorgeous black detailing with purple rose accents, accessorized with a brand-new Shusva-skin bag with matching claw clasp. Gral picks up a fancy Shusva-leather cloak and belt. Shoshana, realizing that a vampire’s castle is basically a Hot Topic, gets some fishnet arm warmers to accompany her fang necklace. We also get some healing potions and hope they aren’t made from lost souls or anything.

Valeria resummons Aethis, who pops back into existence in a burst of glitter that’s entirely incongruous with the local grim aesthetic. Apparently celestial gators are only mildly inconvenienced by fatalities.

As we hitch up the horses to get back on the road, we find out Ser Boris is also preparing to head out. “Woods full of many nasty creatures. Must keep hunting! Maybe I find way down to Barroch, I have heard monsters are attacking workers there.”

Gral perks up at the name of his people’s capitol. “I’m sure the orcs will treat you well. What kind of monsters are they dealing with?”

“Wolves, bears, maybe werewolf? I will find out when I get there! Cursebreakers do not have much of working relationship with orcs, so info is scattered. That is why I must investigate!”

While he heads south into orc territory, we’re gonna go north toward Sturmhearst to look into all the Key nonsense Professor Bjork told us is goin’ down. It’ll be a long trip; it’s on the coast, and we’re well into the heartland of the wood. As we get closer, we’re gonna have to look for new maps, too – the patchwork of safe zones and Curse disasters changes rapidly, and the roads that were passable a month ago might be deathtraps today.

We trek for several blessedly uneventful days. One night, in a region where a sizable number of halflings have settled, we have the fortune of seeing an inn on the horizon as night starts to fall. A sign proclaims the Fusilier’s Rest, a combination winery and inn located on a lush vineyard. Valeria’s kind of suspicious of anything too plant-based right now, but the rest of us totally want a winery tour.

We hitch up our wagon next to a post labeled Valet Parking. Aethis parks themself in the stables. Looking at the place, with its rather low doorframe and quaintly painted décor, we suspect Demish wine snootery instead of weird plant cults.

We duck through the door and take in the scene. It’s on the upscale end of totally normal, with locals sitting around eating and a huge pot of Demish onion soup bubbling on the hearth. The old halfling bartender is wearing pieces of a worn but well-cared-for blue-and-gold uniform. Two polished old pistols hang within reach on the wall, along with a pristine old Fusille musket in a place of honor behind the bar. Shiny medals in a handmade case are proudly displayed atop the bar.

As is D&D protocol, we look around for any notably wacky characters. We find them in the corner: an old man with unkempt white hair and multi-lensed, colorful glasses, engrossed in a game of Man-go against a young human doctor. We know he’s a doctor, because he’s got a stubby-beaked Sturmhearst mask pushed up to expose a tired but friendly face. His coat might once have been a lab coat, but it’s since been patched and sutured together so many times that it’s probably done a full ship-of-Theseus. His right arm is in a makeshift sling, and he’s nursing a small glass of Kevan vodka; probably the closest thing they have to rotgut moonshine in a wine-snob place like this.

We’re like, neat. Let’s eat soup.

Valeria orders a local vineyard wine and chats with the bartender about it. “The man who runs it is a madman; he thinks he can grow good wine grapes in Valdia. But he pays my sister well, she does her best.”

“Oh, don’t listen to René, his sister does marvelous work! No halfling will admit that wine grown outside Demionde will be more than spoiled grape juice,” teases one of the local barflies.

Gral asks Valeria who’s winning the Man-go game. The old man is rambling pleasantly, barely paying attention, and he is absolutely crushing the young doctor. The doctor looks like he’s totally aware he’s being taken to the cleaners, but he’s gonna let the old guy have his fun. As the game draws to a close, the younger man smiles ruefully and hands over a few coins. Meanwhile, the old fella, his eyes magnified to mismatched sizes by his funky glasses, spots our most conspicuous party member.

“Kyr! How’s the wine?” he calls, beckoning her over.

“Quite good actually!” Valeria chirps. “Was that the Kiloni maneuver?”

“Yes, or a variant I picked up somewhere! The Killam maneuver…kilometer…kilowatt? Something of the sort.”

Valeria very much wants to play him, and the old guy’s defeated opponent is happy to trade her his spot. The young man’s propped up leg hits the ground with a suspiciously loud clunk as he vacates his chair for her.

The old man peers up at her, bright-eyed even behind multiple layers of glass. “So what brings a Knight of the Rose here?”

“We’re headed to Sturmhearst, actually!”

“I see! I’ve heard the roads between here and there are pretty tricky to travel, you know.”

“No kidding. Do you have an updated map?”

He snaps his fingers. “No, but I just came from there! I’ve got an old map and I can easily update it for you kids. René is on night watch, I’ll leave it with him so you don’t have to stay up waiting for me to finish it. I know a route that’ll get you there lickety-split and safe as trousers! Now let me guess, you played at the clubs in Aurentium? You have the look about you.”

“Not the clubs, precisely…”

“Ah! Street rules, then!”

Valeria, who played Man-go against literally everyone who would have her, shrugs. “Maybe?”

“René, we’ll need some cups and a dumb hat!” the old man calls.

The young doctor wanders over to the bar and gets a refill, settling down next to Shoshana. “Hey, wanna bet on their game? The old guy’s pretty sharp.”

Shoshana laughs. “Oh, my friend is definitely gonna lose. I’ll put a silver on her, though, out of loyalty.”

It’s an odd game to spectate. Valeria falls behind early on; an insight check shows he’s not cheating, he’s just VERY good. Oh, and also Valeria’s assuming an entirely different set of house rules than this guy, and it’s tripping her up. Wait, are we doing street style, or dock style? Anyway, Valeria’s wearing the dumb hat now. At one point they both spit on the board.

“Y’know, I’ve never seen anyone from Sturmhearst take the mask off,” Shoshana says to her new drinking buddy, watching the game with confusion.

“On the clock, it’d be a safety hazard! But off the clock, eh, it’s fine. Some people get more elitist than me about it, I’m a hometown Valdian through and through.”

(You’re from Joisey, I’m from Joisey! What exit?)

“I haven’t actually been to the university since the Curse started, but I’m heading back to research some stuff I found out up in the Grammelsmarsh swamps. Some real disconcerting stuff regarding undead, and the like. The locals refer to it as the Wailing Wight.”

Shoshana gives him a once-over, rolling a decent Perception. He’s scruffy, though that could mostly be from hard travel, and definitely looks like he’s had a rough time of it. His arm’s in a sling and the little exposed skin Shoshana can see has more than its share of nicks and scars. His gait when he walked over was slightly uneven, one leg making a suspiciously heavy thunk against the wooden floor. Over his shoulder, he’s carrying a long, heavy case sealed with tar for waterproofing.

Hold up. She points to the case. “Do you have an alive guy in there?”

“…Uh.”

“You hesitated, and that’s not great.”

“Uh…no. No, I do not have an alive guy in here,” he says awkwardly.

“Okay, because the last time there was a weird bag, there was a whole-ass dude in there, and it turned into a whole thing.”

“N-no, no no no, there’s no person in the case,” he protests, not quite meeting Shoshana’s judgy cat eyes. He definitely doesn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea, even though the case has started gently twitching.

Meanwhile, old Man-Go man has proved himself quite fluent in Draco-Aquilian, though with an unmistakable mammalian accent. Gral butts into the lively conversation when it winds back to Valdian. “It seems like you’re rather well traveled. What is your profession?”

“Oh, y’know, I go here and there. I’ve been around. There’s so much to see out there!”

Valeria smiles. “I can’t fault you there. Anything in particular you’re looking for?

“I go wherever the winds take me, mostly,” he says, as if Cursewood travel isn’t the most dangerous hobby since they invented pyromancer cookoffs.

Valeria, impressively, only loses the game by a little. The old man jovially shakes her hand and promises to go get started on that map to Sturmhearst for us, springing to his feet with surprising deftness for his age and bustling up toward his room.

Gral and Shoshana, meanwhile, are busy makin’ friends with the doctor guy. “What swamp were you fighting undead in?”

“The Grammelsmarsh? It’s downriver of Mornheim.”

“Ohhh! We heard some, uh, adventurers did a purifying ritual on the river. It might help your situation?”

“That’s great, but…I dunno. Once you mix in swamp gas, things get a lot more interesting.”

“The explosions kind of interesting?”

“…Sometimes.”

The players have noticed that our doctor friend here is, like…not an NPC, there’s another guy at the table (the same player as Isadora! :D), so we start sizing each other up as travel companions.

“You seem like a pretty decent guy,” Gral says, immediately insight checking.

“I mean, you guys seem on the up-and-up too?”

Shoshana winks at him. “Well, I’m not that up-and-up but these two are very diplomatic and important.”

“If you’re also headed up to Sturmhearst, it might make sense for us to travel together? I’m not very quiet,” he admits, knocking on his knee with a clang, “but if you-“

“Hello!” Valeria, hearing clanking, has clanked over loudly to join. “Kyr Valeria Argent, at your service!”

“Uh, hi! I’m Vigdor. I’m a doctor! I mean, you knew that, with the, uh-“ He points to his bird mask. “If you need any balms or salves – I mean, I’m mostly a surgeon, but I know some herbology.”

Is that so! We chat about Dr. Ulmus and Dr. Kjeller. Everyone loves Dr Kjeller!

“I’ve heard of Dr. Kjeller! I haven’t met the guy, but he’s the leading expert on troll physiology. Getting him to come lecture hasn’t worked out so far.”

We ask René the innkeeper about any local threats. Apparently this town’s gotten lucky; the biggest threats recently have just been bandits and one overaggressive badger.

“Oh yeah, one of my cats fought one of those, it went badly,” Shoshana remembers. “For the badger, I mean. I have weird cats.”

(The inn also has cat. His name is Jean Clawed.)

Eventually we all head upstairs. As the night bears on, the girls fall asleep, presumably after painting each other’s toe claws and gossiping. Gral’s still awake, practicing his lute in the rare luxury of a single room, when he pauses. Something doesn’t sound right.

Putting his lute aside, he listens cautiously at the window and feels a deep dread grow in his stomach. The faint scent of ozone drifts in the air. The crickets and night birds have gone dead silent, and in the unsettling quiet he can hear the terrible growling, piping sound he’s heard twice before: once in a house in a hole, and once as Bullbreaker’s expedition faced its destruction.

With great urgency and no volume control, Gral sends a Message to a sleeping Shoshana: “RED ALERT, KEY SHIT’S HERE.” Shoshana wakes up and kicks Valeria.

Gral then sends a Message to our new friend Vigdor, more calmly. “If you have weapons, get them now. Something is happening, it’s going to be dangerous.”

The early warning lets Vigdor and Valeria armor up, Shoshana helping Valeria buckle on the heavy pieces in a hurry. Meanwhile, Gral sprints downstairs, casting Mirror Image as he goes.

René the innkeeper is cleaning his fusille with practiced precision, humming an old marching song. Gral can hear something moving in the kitchen behind the old halfling, so he pops another stealthy Message cantrip. “This is the orc from earlier. I think something bad is in the kitchen – I’ve heard that noise before. Hold on tight to that musket, I’m going in.”

“The back door is locked, I would have heard someone come in,” the old soldier whispers back.

“These things don’t use doors,” Gral hisses.

A 17 Persuasion convinces René, who loads a bullet into his musket. “Where are those friends of yours?”

A heavy clank from upstairs answers that question, as Vigdor and Valeria thud toward the stairs. Gral scopes out the room and sees, on the bar, a big leather map case. The map from the Man-Go guy! Then he peers into the kitchen and, yup, that’s a fleshhound, all right.

Everyone else upstairs bursts into the hall just as a second fleshhound emerges into existence next to them. Shoshana, without hesitation, hits it with a gout of flame. Its strange ethereal flesh solidifies for a moment, but then it shakes itself and charges forward, its displacement energy restored.

Meanwhile, the one downstairs doesn’t aim for Gral or René, trying to run past them. Gral plays a discordant note on his lute, using his Minor Key at the opposite frequency to its vibration and preventing it from displacing, before he strikes. A spectral, scarred orc swings a warhammer down on the creature, Thrice-Burned’s ghost getting some payback as Gral’s blade strikes true.

René takes a shot with his musket and crit-fails, understandably freaked out by the writhing mass of teleporting tentacles, the wild shot careening directly into Gral. Luckily, it only pops a Mirror Image, but everyone upstairs hears a frustrated yell of “NO. FRIEND! ME FRIEND!”

Vigdor dashes past Valeria to the stairs, his previously-motionless arm reaching out of its sling to slap her on the armor with a resounding clash of metal. A silver Jotunn rune glows through the cloth of his sleeve, and she feels Protection from Good and Evil snap into place over her. She takes the cue and stabs the hound, rose vines bursting from her trident and stabbing their long thorns into its oddly flickering flesh.

The pupils on the Eyegis snap to the space behind the beast. Our normal eyes see nothing, but the Key-aligned shield’s eyes see a magical gate, faintly connected to the hound.

As a member of the Order of the Rose, Valeria’s trained to deal with fiendish incursions. This isn’t a portal to the Hells, but she thinks it might get closed similarly. As she charges forward to deal with it, everything seems to move twice as fast as it should: the Key’s spatial distortion has made certain areas the opposite of difficult terrain, where you can move double your speed. Nyoom!

Shoshana zaps it with lightning and heads downstairs to help Gral, who’s being slapped by tentacles. The zapped one flees toward the portal, but Valeria Sentinels and stabs it to death. The downstairs hound gets its tentacles into the real Gral.

Vigdor moves to Gral’s aid, ripping away the last of his sling and clamping a large circular blade to his forearm. With the pull of a ripcord, it loudly whirs into motion. As the Buzzing Butcher slams into the displacer hound with a gory squelch, he asks about sneak attack, like a rogue!

A very, very loud rogue.

Gral breaks away from the hound’s tentacles and looks around. Through the windows, more fleshhounds have appeared outside. The space outside is warped – leaving this inn is going to be very difficult while all this nonsense is going on. The lights of the vineyard seem miles away.

However, Gral realizes, the hound responded to the sound of his lute. And when he used his Minor Key he caught a glimpse of the portal it came through. He begins to play again, using the Minor Key to try to take control of it. The GM allows him to burn a 3rd level spell slot for a colossal roll of 33. He moves the portal inside a wall, to temporarily block anything coming through.

René takes a shot at the remaining hound and misses.

Valeria, upstairs, draws her chained sword and spends a 1st level slot to try to close the portal, the same way paladins close Infernal gateways. The chains of Rack extend from the sword and stitch the portal shut.

(Gral and Valeria each gain inspiration for using Portal Trixx!)

A Thing Occurs at initiative 0, and we hear strange piping coming from the stables. We’re kind of occupied, so we trust Aethis to bite anything that bothers the horses.

Shoshana sprints down the stairs and to the bar. Aw, there’s another flesh hound coming in from the kitchen. Her Chill Touch misses, and the new monster slaps Gral.

Vigdor nyooms through a Zoom, which makes some Really Weird doppler effects happen with his clanky leg and his buzzy arm. He slides across the bar like an action hero and slams his saw down, missing the hound and showering the room in a hail of splinters.

Valeria is still upstairs, and it is LOUD downstairs. She’s gonna dash to get the heck down there and rejoin the festivities.

Gral Phantasmal Forces the new fleshhound, and in its mind, horrible liquid tendrils emerge from the soup pot and constrict around it. The soup rises to the defense of the Fusilier’s Rest!

René gets his wits about him and takes a pistol shot at the nearer fleshhound, tagging it with a bullet and keeping it in place. “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE. OUR POLICY IS NO PETS! I will not make an exception for you, you do NOT seem particularly polite!”

The fleshhound grabs the map case off the bar and starts to run for it. René hits it with the butt of his rifle. The second hound can’t attack Vigdor since it’s too busy convincing itself soup isn’t dangerous, so Vigdor’s free to draw his pistol and unload a Sneak Attack bullet into the fleeing hound’s back.

René reloads his musket. It’s been a long time since he’s done it under fire, but the Royal Fusilier Corps of Demionde does not half-ass their training.

The portal the hound’s heading for bisects a wall now, so it might be hard for the hound to get through.  Before it can worry about that, though, it comes face to face with Valeria, who’s ready to rumble. She kills it, dropping the map to the ground, and skitters through the Zoomy Zone to try to trident the second hound. It displaces out of the way.

Gral seizes control of another portal, and this time decides to use it to see what’s going on. He tries to hop out to the stables, where that weird noise is coming from. He enters a weird nether space full of the flickering bodies of fleshhounds, writhing and blinking, which the DM calls the Threshold. Gral accepts psychic damage to see what’s going on, and the patterns become clearer as the Key takes hold temporarily in his brain. These portals all connect to each other and the Threshold at the same time. Whatever’s out in the stables, making that eerie piping noise, is tied to the portals – it can’t fully exist in our realm. So if you close all the portals, it’ll force that thing to leave; if you drive it away, the portals will close. Either way, the Key’s influence on this place will fade.

Oh, and that thing out in the stables? It’s the Lurke r again.

Gral’s old enemy wrests control of the portal back from Gral, who stumbles back out into the inn, reeling from the sudden whammy of Key taint.

Shosha shoots lightning at the nearest hound, which retaliates by leaping through her, disrupting her matter with its own. It’s a highly unpleasant experience. A new hound jumps out of the portal next to Valeria. As Vigdor, Shoshana, and René all attack, Gral shuts another portal with his lute’s magic. “Guys, there’s something horrible in the stables!” he shouts. “If we bust enough portals it’ll go away!”

The Lurker continues to make mysterious dice rolls, but apparently it’s rolling poorly, so we don’t quite find out what it’s up to. It peers through one of the last few portals, only visible to Gral and the Eyegis. It’s hard to get a good look at, fifth-dimensional as it is, but it’s weirdly humanoid, actually? It’s surrounded by floating lanterns and holding some sort of pipe or flute.

(The DM notes that Jean Clawed is awake and doesn’t see why any of this is his business. He’s capable of using the portals; he’s not Key tainted, that’s just how cats are.)

We exchange blows with the remaining hounds, Chromatic Orbs flying and chainsaws buzzing. René bayonets a hound to death, for the honor of all NPCs.

Gral powerslides on his knees across the Zoomy Zone, playing a complicated riff, woobling himself right through the fireplace into the kitchen. He spends another level 3 spell slot to get the portal to dance itself shut. “And that was Through the Fire and Flames!”

René reloads his gun. Shoshana blasts the hound with fire, so Vigdor’s action goes off and he chainsaws it to death, the body and spine getting caught in the spinning chain. FATALITY.

The searing light of Shoshana’s fire casts sharp shadows on the walls of the inn, which begin to writhe and re-form, swirling together into a lithe, snarling feline shape that springs toward the Lurker. It pounces with an odd, broken yowl that’s incredibly familiar – although Valeria and Gral have only ever heard it once, from underneath an overturned laundry basket.

Vigdor, who’s never met a flesh-hound OR a cursecat before, makes an arcana check to figure out what in the seven hells is going on. It seems some sort of entity is thinning the barriers between realities? Its very essence seems to be intermingled with portal; it cannot fully leave the portal or exist in this realm. Like a malevolent, sentient pair of curtains.

He’s like okay, curtains sound like something I can chainsaw. It’s curtains for you, see? (Fun fact: if he rolls 21 or higher on attack roll with chainsaw, he gets sneak attack regardless of other circumstances. Because it’s a goddamn CHAINSAW.)

The Lurker turns its attention directly on us, or at least to the enormous hissing cat hellbent on ruining its day. Gral, still strumming furiously, realizes the Lurker’s only got a couple of portals left. He’s closed a portal already; he’s gonna try to close all of them for good. The DM imposes disadvantage and a brutal pile of psychic damage, but Gral is unphased, hitting a power chord that shakes the entire inn.

The Lurker screeches and reaches for him, the space around Gral beginning to warp, but it’s too late, the portal slamming shut against it. The Zoomy Zones vanish; the portals close, the strange atmosphere fades. The road looks to be the size it was before instead of an endless stretch of packed earth; the vineyard is once again an easy ten-minute walk away.

His big solo complete, Gral sways and collapses unconscious. Valeria runs over and Lays On Hands so he doesn’t die, while Vigdor starts casting Mending on the destroyed bar furniture. Shoshana, meanwhile, just stares dumbstruck at the place where a huge spectral cat is dissipating into shadowy smoke.

“…Schmendrick?”

René is holding himself together, but he’s an old man and it’s been a while since he fought this much. He took a bit of damage; Valeria pat pats him some HP. “Thank you, Kyr. I…I need to check on my other guests. The old man with the Man-Go game, we must find out if he lives.”

Valeria accompanies him upstairs. Rack’s glowing rose vines are still visible, stitching the portal shut; it’s healing more quickly than Valeria’s used to seeing. The door to the old man’s room swings open under Valeria’s cautious knock. The bed is unmade but empty, and the old man’s luggage is gone. The only things left are a generous tip on the counter and his odd multicolored glasses.

As Vigdor steps outside to clean viscera off his chainsaw, Gral scopes out the stables. There’s evidence of disturbed earth around the grounds, but nothing conclusive. Aethis seems to be unbothered.

We reconvene without much to show for our investigation. But we have one last clue: Why were the hounds so interested in the old man’s map? We spread it out on one of the bar tables and crowd around. It’s a map of Valdia, but the path it shows us to take to Sturmhearst makes No Sense. It’s not even contiguous! It tells us to start here and wander north, and then the line cuts off next to some scribbled equations, the route picking up again elsewhere, where he’s drawn a symbol we don’t recognize – and so on, in strange and nonsensical disconnected paths.

Shoshana, on a hunch, puts on the multicolored glasses the old man left behind. Like 3D glasses, they reveal the hidden image. Through the kaleidoscopic lenses, she can see remnants of the Key’s influence all around the inn; the fading Zoomy Zones and closing portals light up in ultraviolet. The map, meanwhile, has gained an entirely new dimension, like a layer of holographs. NOW the shortcuts make sense – they route through other dimensions along the z-axis, with additional symbols and labels giving helpful hints.

To be honest, it does look like a much faster route. And one of the notes says it leads to the “Drowned City” – hey, isn’t that where Bullbreaker ended up? But we’re all rightfully wary of hopping right back into another flesh-hound portal disaster.

We now have the Extradimensional Map and the Stranger’s Glasses.

Oh! The map has a note for us: “Happy Journeys to a fellow master of the game. Your friend, T.T.”

We immediately rifle through our notes and realize he may have been Professor Trevor Twombly, Headmaster of Sturmhearst. Vigdor, did you know that guy?!

Vigdor didn’t recognize him. Maybe the guy looked like Twombly, if you squint? There were a lot of old men at Sturmhearst, and they wear masks most of the time? Also he had distracting glasses? So, like…maybe?

As we bicker, Vigdor snags the glasses off the table and heads to his room, opening up his case and taking a look. The lenses don’t reveal anything new about the object inside.

Unfortunately, the poor rogue didn’t bother to stealth. “Whatcha doin’ in here?” says Valeria, who followed shortly behind.

“Um, just looking at my leg, seeing if anything is weird-“

Valeria immediately checks Vigdor’s lower limbs for wounds. “I can help! An extra pair of hands can always-”

“No, no! I think I’m okay! Really!” he protests. He glances into the case again, clearly torn, and sighs. “Let me explain.”

He lifts a whole human leg out of the case, kicking and twitching.

“This is my leg, and I’m taking it to Sturmhearst. I’m not sure if it’s wholly mine anymore.”

Through his torn pants, Valeria can see a clunky clockwork leg to match his buzz-saw arm.

One player immediately yells “FULL METAL ALCHEMIST.” Another player says it again, in a slightly different voice.

Dr. Vigdor Gavril has joined the party!

#the cursewood #session recap #the key #valeria argent #gral omokk'duu #shoshana bat chaya #vigdor gavril #schmendrick #trevor twombly

[xlucian-hell-cat90x]

Whiterun

Kisara gasps as Ren and Lucien lead her through the gates into the bustling city of Whiterun. She stops at the little bridge and pulls the hood closer to her face, watching all the people go about their day in the walls of the city. The guards patrol the city as the children run past them playing and laughing.

She smiles softly at the sight before her. "Never been in a city before?" Ren asks softly, breaking her trance. "No. I live in the woods." She sighs, feeling a little overwhelmed and homesick. "Come on let's head toward Jorvaskr. I'm sure we can get some answers from my friends there." Ren says, walking ahead of her and Lucien.

Kisara stops at the giant tree in the middle of the Wind Distract. She stares at the tree. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Lucien asks, quietly, standing beside her. "Yes. She is." Kisara says, walking over to the tree. She lays a gentle hand on the tree.

She feels a rush of wind around her as she hears the whispering of the wind through the branches of the trees. She smiles softly as she hears Kyne's peaceful song. Ren turns around at the bottom of the stairs at Jorvaskr when he realizes there is no one behind him.

He stares in amazement as the wind picks up around Kisara. He hears footsteps and looks at the top of the stairs to see a familiar small female much like Kisara appear from Jorvaskr. "Ah, Ren. Good to see you again." She smiles. "You as well, Luna." He smiles, then frowns when he sees Bear behind her. "See you still got that big ogre following you." He teases.

She joins him at the bottom of the stairs. "Yeah. He's the best companion a woman like me could ask for. When he's not being over protective." Luna smiles. Bear just growls in response. Lucien and Kisara make their to Ren's side.

"I see you still got Lucien with you. Who's this?" Luna asks, intrigued. Kisara hides behind Ren. Lucien places a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. They are friends of ours." He assures her. "This is Kisara. We are on our way to see Euroland about getting her some armor. Then later placing an order with Ysolda to get her some clothes that better fit her." Ren explains rather emotionless.

Luna looks him over. "You look exhausted, Ren. When's the last time you've rested?" She asks, worried. "A couple of days ago. Joys of being a hero. You never get to rest." He smiles. "Well, I have some armor and clothes she can have. So if you wanna go put her an order for weapons, I can take care of the rest. Bear, go get my satchel from my horse and meet me at The Bannered Mare." Luna demands in an authoritative tone. He nods and walks off toward the gate.

She walks around Ren and takes a closer look at the woman. Removing the hood, she gasps. "Your eyes looks like Ren's but your hair is beautiful. I love the fiery red." She gushes. She grabs Kisara's hand pulls her away from Ren and smiles happily. She moves her hair.

"You're a halfling too." She says. Kisara just nods, unsure what to think of the woman in front of her. "Are you two brother and sister?" She spews out. "I don't think so?" Kisara says, sounding confused. "That's part of the reason why I'm back in Whiterun. I need to speak Rayne." Ren explains.

"She's not here. She left earlier to investigate the an abandon prison. Something about a man being held captive by the Thalmor." Luna explains. Ren groans and rubs his face under the hood. "Great. We'll are going to need a place to stay." He grumbles. Luna smiles. "Come on. I have a place outside the city, near Loreius farm. You can rest there." Luna smiles, pulling Kisara down the stairs. "I'll meet you at the stables." Ren says. Luna just waves.

He walks up the stairs. He sees Farkas and Vilkas training outside. "Vilkas, can you give Rayne a message for me?" Ren asks, looking at the twins. "I suppose." He says. Lucien pulls a quill and parchment from his bag, handing it to Ren. Ren writes a quick letter briefly explaining the last two days.

He hands it to Vilkas. "Tell her to meet us at the manor near Loreius farm." He says, handing Vilkas the letter. "I will. Anything else?" He asks, in his usual hateful tone. Ren pulls a sack of gold and hands it to him. "Have someone deliver the some weapons there too." He says, walking toward the stairs leading to Euroland's forge.

After placing an order for a bow, two daggers and three big orders of arrows. He paid Euroland well for all of it. Meeting Luna and Kisara at the stables, he got on his horse as Lucien summoned Clive. Luna gets on a solid white horse as Bear gets on a dark brown on. Kisara smiles softly.

Kisara whistles loudly and a black deer runs through the grass and stops her side. She smiles softly as the deer lays his head on her shoulder. "Oh, Auri. I've missed you too." She smiles as she pets him. He licks the side of her face. "We've got to go." She whispers. Auri kneels down and Kisara gets on his back.

"A fucking deer?" Bear says for the first time. "Ren, what is she? The only people that ride deer and elk are Forsworn. Please tell me she's not a a Forsworn." Luna says, worried. "Can we talk about this when we get to the manor?" Ren asks. "I suppose. Let's go." Luna says, taking off. Everyone follows her.

Arriving at the manor, everyone dismounted their steeds and Luna led them around the side of the home to an area where they could sit and talk. Luna leads Kisara in the house as everyone else takes seats around a fire pit.

Luna returns moments later. She sits down on the cushions below Bear. "So explain, Ren." She demands in a serious tone. He sighs as he removes the hood and lets his hair fall loosely around his shoulders. He begins explaining the last two days, leaving out the part where Kisara might be a Dragonborn too.

Luna just nods taking everything in. She remains silent for a moment, processing every little detail. She knew that Ren was Dragonborn. She knew the moment she helped with the Nordic ruin outside Morthal. "So she is Forsworn? Why isn't she wearing the armor?" Bear asks, curiously.

Ren goes to open his mouth to respond but falls silent when she steps out of the house. "Because I was forced to leave my tribe." Kisara says sadly, looking at the ground as she plays with the fabric of the dress.

Lucien blushes taking in her beauty, as she takes a seat between him and Ren. He places a gentle hand on hers. "Why were you kicked from the tribe?" Luna asks. "Because a dragon attacked. When we killed it, I absorbed its power." She explained. Luna's eyes widened. "Wait. What? I thought there was only one Dragonborn. How can she absorb it's power too?" Bear asked confused.

"What's a Dragonborn?" Kisara asked, confused as Bear. She looks between Lucien and Ren for answers. "I am a Dragonborn. By slaying dragons. I can absorb their soul and use it to learn shouts or words of power." Ren explains. "So that means I'm a Dragonborn too? So I'm not cursed." Kisara sighs.

"No. Just means that you will fight dragons and protect people. Also means that we will have to visit the Greybeards too." Lucien says, thoughtfully. Ren nods in agreement. "But that will have to wait a few days." A familiar voice says from the side of the house. Everyone looks that way as a tall, curvy woman appears.

The silver haired woman stood before them with a man with a tattoo over his right eye. "Good to see you, Ren, Luna and Lucien." She smiles. "You as well, Rayne." Ren stands and goes and hugs the woman. She was a couple inches shorter than him.

The man behind her growled. "Easy there, big guy. This is my nephew. Ren, this is Kaidan. Kaidan, this is Ren, Lucien, Luna, and Bear. I don't know the small elven woman. But she looks like Zevran and Kira, so I'm assuming that's their daughter." She smile, as she walks over and looks closely at the woman.

"What?" Ren says, shocked. "So my mother actually was Kira?" Kisara asked confused. "Yes, your father was the famous thief/assassin, Zevran. Ren, your parents were never killed by the Thalmor. Your father and your mother separated after you were born. Realizing that their children were twin halflings meant for something great. They decided to keep you two apart so the Thalmor wouldn't try to kill you. Zevran meet another woman in the Imperial City, who was related to your best friend there. They fell in love.

"Kisara, your mother returned to her tribe where she raised you. They did this to you all safe. Ren, does she know your real name?" Rayne asks. He shakes his head no. "Well, you should tell her. Also, your father is alive. He is currently in Riften. Kisara, dear, I'm gonna call you Kia for short. Your mother is safe. She left the tribe and joined Cael's tribe. I know you remember him." Rayne explains.

"How do you know all this?" Lucien asks. "As the head of my family and being the Harbinger. I have to know this stuff." She says, in confident tone. "What happened to Kodlak?" Luna asks. That was her uncle after all. "He was killed by the Silverhand." Rayne admits sadly. She hugs Luna. "I'm sorry, dear." She says. "It's alright. I'll have to write mother and inform her." Luna says, softly. "I already wrote her and told her everything." Rayne states.

Luna just looks at the older Nord woman. "Thank you." She smiles weakly. "You are welcome. Kodlak would not want you to be bad. He would want you to celebrate." Rayne smiles softly at the small Imperial woman. "Kaidan, how would you like to celebrate a death and the reunion of lost siblings?" She asks the man, that stood at her side in silence.

"I could go for a drink or two." He says. The group traveled back to Whiterun in the company of Rayne and her new companion, Kaidan, who didn't really talk much. Upon returning to Whiterun that night, Rayne informed the Companions that would have the next couple of days off in celebration of a reunion siblings.

#skyrim #lucien flavius #dragonborn #skyrim oc #skyrim companions #kaidan 2

[stragglewort]

Tales of Our Othron - “Calder and Theryn, in the Garden”

Picture by By Denis Kuvaev - “Watercolor painting landscape with blooming spring tree in rosary”

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        The young prince’s footsteps echoed through the marbled halls, dampened only by the tapestry rugs and his own half-effort not to startle the Keep awake. He was fuming, literally, the flickering light off the top of his head breaking up the shadows of the dim hallway in strange, irregular patterns; sparks of orange and gold fluttering off the ends of his hair. Until that very moment he’d been gladly working away in his shop, tinkering with a passion-project that’d kept him busy for the past week. It was brilliant! Really, if his blueprint was correct (and, being his, obviously it had to be) it was really going to be great –

        That is, if he could figure out what on Othron was wrong with it.

        The first time it short-circuited he was willing to let it slide, it was new, it was different, there were bound to be mistakes.

        The second mishap was frustrating.

        The third infuriating,

        Then there was the fourth.

        The seventh.

        The thirteenth.

        Needless to say? He needed a break. Just had to look at something else for a while – maybe take a walk or climb the astronomy towers a few times over to clear his head. Wherever he was going he hadn’t quite decided yet, but he was going. Half-pacing, half-stomping down the empty halls while he mumbled gods-only-knew-what under his breath. He kept on like that until finally muttering his way to the courtyard gates. These towering bronze automations guarded the gardens, one a soldier dressed up in thin plate armor, her pike-pole tilted across the entrance, and the other being what he’d always guessed was a mage of some sort with their staff crossed over the soldier’s weapon. His eyes to the ground, he didn’t quite realize the gate had already been muddled with until he tossed his hand up to open it and found the guardians had already been moved. The mage’s staff tilted to the sky and the soldier’s pike set firmly against her pedestal. Who in the world was up this late? Sure, he didn’t have any good excuses himself – but that wasn’t exactly unexpected. A little more careful than before, he pushed his way into the gardens.

        Something about the moonlight that peered through the stained glass of the astronomy towers made the courtyard feel massive. Boxes of vining vegetables and sprouting buds filled every square inch. Unlike the courtyards of Beneath the Spire or the sprawling stringyards of the Wandering Cities, the Quarleon gardens hadn’t quite perfected utility in balance with beauty – creating a world of mismatched, rambling boxes of flowers and foods. It wasn’t without use, though, everyone from hobbyists to researchers found their home away from home in their garden pots. Calder peered around the corner, scanning through the vines and leaves for any suspicious figures – there were always visitors, sure, but there was no way the guards would let them through so late. It didn’t take too long to notice, off through some winding shrubbery, a faint silhouette leaned over a patch of Ooslod blossoms. Their hair shimmered blankly white in the moonlight, long and threaded over their shoulders. He didn’t quite recognize them at first with their face mostly obscured – but looking closer he realized their ashen grey skin, high cheekbones, and a familiarly short, charming grin.

        It was that moment he realize exactly who the stranger was.

        Without thinking, Calder flattened himself against a woven board of Beerrot berries – his hair flared in a startle and he threw his hands up, trying to pat the sparks down. Theryn, what is the gods’ good names was he doing there? Now that he was thinking about it, Calder had never actually seen what his guard did in his off-time. They spent plenty of time together, considering it was the man’s royal duty to nearly never leave his side. But when they weren’t forced together in legal defensive matrimony, he had no idea what his friend got up to. He’d thought about it maybe once or twice, it wasn’t like he was interested in knowing all the details of the his life… he was simply curious. He peered over the edge of the Beerrot stand and watched as Theryn moved between a few small boxes, mostly of colorful, sweet smelling blooms whose scent enveloped the whole side of the garden.

        It was like he was a completely different person.

        That stern, sometimes sarcastic face he always kept on had melted into something peacefully content as he brushed tenderly through the leaves and stems. He wasn’t wearing armor – gods, Calder hadn’t realized how much the leather and chain-mail filled out his form as there, standing in just a blouse and trousers, he looked so much smaller than usual. He still towered over the young prince, of course, but he was so lithe. Like a poet of some sort, or as muscular as he was, a dancer. The flower set behind his ear really brought the whole picture together.

        Against his better judgement, Calder was staring.

        It wasn’t long before the Theryn turned around, probably to grab something that didn’t really matter, and their eyes caught. He jumped, startled, and his eyes went wide – these dark grey pupils with flecks of silver shards sprinkled like gems in the iris. Usually they were gold, but silver suited him just as nicely. Of course it did! It looked very nice, very extremely… oh, he was still staring. The young prince’s face didn’t show much as they stared at each other, but his hair – damn it all – flared in fluttered sparks. He held his breath, desperately trying to get it to simmer down. Theryn, though, with some dirt across his cheek and a bundle of seeds in one of his hands, raised his eyebrows at the young man, looking between his eyes and his flaming head of hair.

        “Say not a word.” Theryn signed - One of his hands waved over his mouth as his expression harshened, just a speck. “Not. A. word.” 

                                                       #######

        Calder was surprised that night to learn that his guard’s passion, other than fighting, protecting, and putting up with him of course, was gardening. But what really surprised him was how much Theryn managed to draw him into it.

        “And these…” Theryn’s hands moved through the air enthusiastically, his face wistful, as he motioned towards a patch of yellowish buds set off in a short corner. “They’re called M-O-U-R-N-S-L-O-W shrubs. You have probably seen them around the city…” His words cut off as he picked a blossom off a stem and waved it over to the prince to take. It was soft and thin, a dainty sort of thing with a bunched head of pale, fragile blooms. Theryn picked up the barrel-pot and balanced it in one of his arms, using his free hand to go off describing something about the bush. By this point in his life, in their guard-ship, the young prince had a mean vocabulary in Sign (if he were to say so himself) – but the quick excitability of one-handed words were still lost on him. He caught a comment about flowering here or coloring there, something about pots or… maybe it was something about the plant as a whole? The thought passed his mind that maybe he should ask for a quick repeat, maybe with two hands, but something about interrupting felt completely wrong. Instead, Calder found his eyes wandering from the guard’s speaking hand outward. The man was still dressed up in the crested armor of the keep (being the middle of the day he wasn’t technically off duty yet), the whites and lilac of the short breastplate reflecting the sun in odd, warbled rays. But the armor, as trim as its cut or interesting its design hardly kept his attention –

        As Theryn’s eyes flicked between vines and petals, Calder caught dots of gold reflected in the sun. His dark irises patterned with shifting, chromatic shards. It was like metal shavings caught up in two pools of crude oil. (That being a comparison that both looked and sounded much better in his head). His gaze trailed down to the drow’s lip and over to a scar skimmed lightly over the edge. It wasn’t that he had to know what put it there, as always, he was just curious! Theryn was a guard, and an incredibly good one at that. There was no doubt he had plenty of scars in all sorts of places – maybe on his back, across his chest, over his arms or… wherever else fighters tended to get hit. Sometimes when the prince just so happened to be in the courtyard while the guards trained and sparred, he’d catch a glimpse of a slash at the base of Theryn’s neck when his shirt would slip down his shoulders and –

        A familiar hand waved in front of his face, pulling him from his thoughts and back to the sunlit corner of the garden. He jumped, a bit startled – “Is there something on my face? You’re staring.” Theryn asked, his expression somewhere between confused and concerned.

        Calder’s hand shot up and circled a bit faster and he meant to, “Of course!” He paused, “I mean - no. You’re fine!” He signed, laughing a little, one hand hovering halfway through the word and the other raising to sweep back some flared loose strands. He didn’t quite make it to his head before he caught his eye on the Mournslow flower, still in his hand, but suddenly a very different color than before.

        It wasn’t just grey, it was burnt. The thin blossoms fried to a crisp between his fingers. He was hot headed at the best of times but… that? Oh gods.

        Theryn crept a hand over and with two gentle fingers lifted the flower from the prince’s hand by what was left of its stem, holding it in the air for a better look. He didn’t sign anything at first, more just peered between it and Calder, he kept that way for a few seconds before letting it fall from his fingers. “…Of course.” He mimicked, that odd, confused face quirking into a wry grin.

        Calder suddenly felt like his lungs were full of smoke and, if he didn’t know any better, would’ve thought his cheeks had caught fire. The gods knew his hair had. 

________________________________________________

        Welcome to the other side of my D&D one-offs. I posted some Curse of Strahd stuff, that being the campaign I’m a player in, but I have no storage of DM fanfiction I’ve written about my own players. For a little context, Calder, a fire genasi artificer, is the prince of a city called Fairwall Royal. He’s joined up with the party (lovingly called the Fools of Othron™) because Theryn, the love of his life personal guard he cares very deeply for was kidnapped (along with... quite a lot of other people) and he wants to get them him back.

#dnd #D&D #homebrew #player fanfic #fiction #story #romance #?????? #I'm usually writing horror so honestly I'm very out of my depth here #stories #othron #fantasy #high fantasy #genasi #drow #sign language writing practice #short story #short fiction #short #dungeons and dragons #fluff? #fluff #for the first time ever #writing #oc #dnd fanfic #dnd fanfiction

[darkwritingsnshit]

Things Change 2

Warnings: This will turn into a dark fic, not sure when but it’s coming. Please do not read if you’re under 18, or are uncomfortable with dark characters, kidnapping, noncon, asshole characters.              

           It was hard to pass up an invitation to Asgard, especially such a personal one. The idea of going back to the palace filled you with such bittersweetness. Asgard was as much your home as Vanaheimr, and it had been years since you’d seen its gleaming halls. Even so, you had not been back since the death of the Allmother, the woman who raised you there, you knew there would be an emptiness that would never be filled. Still, you were glad for the invitation. Painful as it may be, Frigga deserved to be honored and it was time you paid your respects, as well as reuniting with old loved ones.

           Two moons were more than enough time to get everything together, making sure your home would be waiting safely when you came back. You became excited, the years had slipped by so quickly, it finally struck you that you had not been back to your childhood home for nearly 50 years. You were excited to see what had changed, and to reunite with Thor and Loki. The only drawback was that your attire for Vanaheimr was practical, pants and skirts for working outside, your hands were rough, your clothing was dirty. You were able to find one dress for court, though you hoped that your old chambers still held more court appropriate clothing.

           The moons came and passed quickly, before you knew it you were preparing to depart for Asgard. Taking a last wistful look at your home, the trees in the orchard, the gardens and stream, you walked to the end of the lane and turned your eyes skyward.

           “Hiemdall, I’m ready to come back.” That was all it took for your world to flash with bright lights, feel a twist in your stomach, and land right next to Hiemdall whose golden eyes were focused on yours intently.

           “My dear, you’ve changed so much.” Hiemdall extended his hand which you took to stand back up, the Bifrost always seemed to knock you down when you got where you needed to be.

           “Really?” You asked him. True you had changed much in the last few years, but you didn’t think it was that obvious.

           “Yes child, you’ve grown. Both inside and out, I can see it in your eyes.” Nothing got past Hiemdall, even when you weren’t trying to hide anything. It was true, he saw everything.

           Turning to cross the bridge, you shook your head in a double take of what laid before you. No longer was it a rainbow bridge to the Bifrost, instead it crackled with black and white static, an electrical charge hanging in the air. The kingdom seemed overcast, and dim.

          “A soldier here will escort you to the palace my dear.” Hiemdall gestured to an armored soldier who had stepped forward to guide you.

          “I’m quite alright Hiemdall, I know my way to the palace,” you replied, shaking your head.

          “I’m afraid it’s not a request my lady,” Hiemdall sighed, “the Allfather has ordered an escort to anyone entering or leaving Asgard.”

          Confused at the allocation of soldiers in the palace, you looked to Hiemdall but he offered no more information save the slightest shake of the head.

         “Very well then,” you replied, and let the Asgardian soldier lead the way.

           The very air felt different, the energy was wrong you decided, the landmarks once familiar now changed with time, gold giving way to shadowy silvers, even the tiled walls and murals had been changed. Asgardian soldiers outnumbered the citizens you passed. Silence filled the once bright marketplace, save a fountain gurgling quietly to fill the void. No laughing children or bustling chatter, in fact you hadn’t heard music since you had left Vanaheimr.

           When at last the sullen soldiers had walked you to the throne room, you were unprepared for what you saw behind the thick double doors.

          Odin had replaced what was a double throne for himself and Frigga with three large thrones, the middle rising above the others. What had been beautiful paintings of the royal family, the prosperity in the realms, victories among friends and celebrations of love had been removed. Instead, bearing down on the room were visions of death; the Allfather leading his sons into a bloody battle, severed heads of Jotun and beasts being slayed. The seating along the walls had been removed, forcing anyone who entered to stand, and to make room for giant skeletal heads of monsters that Odin or his sons had no doubt slain. The sight took your breath away.

       “My dear!” Odin’s voice boomed and echoed through the halls. “Come closer child, it’s been too many years.” He opened his arms for an embrace as you hurried down the hall to pay your respects.

      “Allfather,” you embraced him warmly as he looked you over.

        “My child, are you eating in Vanaheimr? You’ve grown so tall and thin, yet you’re more beautiful than your mother was.” Odin’s words were meant to made you happy, though it was hard to feel joy when someone compared you to a mother you didn’t know and couldn’t picture.

     “Not to worry dear, we have arranged an incredible feast for tonight, and we are sure to get you full of food and ale, are we not?” Odin looked over his shoulder to his sons who nodded in enthusiasm. “After quite a journey, surely you would like to rest and retire before tonight’s feast?”

      You nodded readily, the entire facelift of Asgard was hard to take in at once. Both the brothers stood after Odin had released you, both seemed to stand taller than before, yet there was no spark of amusement or love in their eyes.

           Thor had indeed changed more than Loki; you may not have recognized him if not for his seat at Odin’s right hand. One of Thor’s eyes was now a golden orange, drawing your eyes to his. His hair drawn back and braided, he looked like a warrior taking council, ready to charge back onto the killing fields. Even his armor had changed; no longer plated and studded with iron, he wore what you recognized as Elvish mail, their magic making all of their armor impervious to weapons, over Odin’s old breastplate that the Allfather had worn into battle for at least a thousand years.  You saw no Mjolnir in his hand but something new, a dark battle axe that looked too heavy for even the Mighty Thor to wield.

           “Sweet sister,” Thor approached you, hand on your shoulder before giving you a tight hug. “It’s been too long without you home with us. We are overjoyed to have you back.”

          You had to crane your neck to get a better look at his bearded face, his Asgardian height surpassing your smaller frame. Loki stepped forward and bowed with a smirk, taking your hand in his with a kiss.

           “You look very tired; will you allow me to escort you to your room?” Smirk still present, you nodded.

         “Should the Allfather permit it, I would like to rest before our feast tonight.” Your eyes meeting Odin’s as he smiled and nodded.

        “I shall send for you when it is time to feast my dear,” Odin let you know as you departed his hall with Loki.

         “I’m glad you came,” Loki kept a hold on your hand after leaving the throne room.

          “Did you think I wouldn’t?” You asked, the steps to your chambers were second nature now, you could make the way with both eyes closed.

         “I wasn’t entirely sure,” He admitted, “though I did suspect you would pay us a visit.”

           “With such a personal invitation, how could I refuse?” You looked at him with a smile before becoming more somber. “We never really had a chance to honor Frigga, did we?” Loki’s face drew into a frown, the events surrounding her death had not led to the most inclusive or honorable funeral. You knew everyone involved still felt bad about how the events had unfolded.

        “I’m happy you’re holding a feast for her. She deserved more than what we managed when she died.”

        “She did. She does.” Loki replied, no longer a jest in tone.

         Approaching your chamber, Loki pushed at the door and the locks clicked open. It was exactly as you remembered, a wave of nostalgia nearly knocking you over. How had your room remained untouched after all those years? Even the book you had left on your mattress was still in its place, though nothing was dusty or looked neglected. It was as if someone had kept your room spotless, without moving a single piece of furniture or fabric.

         “Loki,” you began.

          “Odin insisted no one move anything, but to keep it as it exactly as it was when you left it. He lost his wife, and his daughter not soon after. Mother’s room looks the same.” Loki told you.

          “Oh,” you exhaled with pain in your chest. “Loki, I never meant for that to happen. I didn’t want him to think he was losing me, I just… I couldn’t be here anymore. It hurt.” Now you felt terrible. You hadn’t stopped to think how leaving Asgard may have affected Odin, though you saw just how blind you had been.

         “I know.” Loki’s tone was clipped. “We all hurt. He kept waiting for you to come back though. He wanted to let you heal, but he missed you, he needed you.”

         “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You weren’t sure what could be said, what could make anything better.

         “It’s alright, you’re back now.” Loki shook his head and gave you a smile. “I’ll send a maid to attend to you before the feast.”

        “Loki, I haven’t used a maid in years, I don’t need one now!” You insisted.

        “You haven’t been back to Asgard in years either my dear, some things don’t change.” He leaned close and gave you a kiss on the cheek before closing the door to leave you in peace.

#My writing #my works #dark!loki #dark!loki x reader #loki x reader #dark writings #Dark fics

[sophi-s]

In demon's skin

By: sophi-s

Franchise: Darksiders video game

Words: 4,164

Characters: Abaddon (Destroyer), Uriel, Hellguard

Warnings: Blood and gore, violence, injury, significant cannon divergence

Summary:

Uriel's resolve had been tested time and time again after the Seals were broken. Part of her squad falls to deceit and into a battle that cannot be won. That shouldn't be won. But sometimes rescue comes from the most unexpected places...

Special thanks to @another-darksiders-blog for an inspiration! Gonna place it on AO3 later too

--------------------------------------------------

"Hold fast!"

A desperate, yet encouraging shout left Uriel's lips as she sliced a Goreclaw in half, caring very little for the blood splattered over her face and armor, staining her sword in deep crimson. In response to her rally, the group of angels from the Hellguard gathered themselves for one final push against the Horde of Hell. Each of her soldiers could cut down at least twenty relentless demons before they would fall. Unfortunately for the angelic warriors, all that remained now was five, maybe six of them counting Uriel in while the demons seemed to be endless.

A Phantom Guard lunged at Uriel with a vicious roar. She effortlessly parried the attack and sank her own blade into the demon's gut, killing it in fractions of a second. Despite the amount of bodies piled up around them they weren't doing as well as it would seem, considering that six of them stood up to half of the Hell's Legion. Among those bodies there were their brethren. At least twelve of them. One of the still standing angels, Enamel, wielding a Redemption Cannon, blasted a Duskwing out of the sky before casting his commander a frightful glance.

"There's too many of them!"

That much they all knew. Uriel knew this from the moment their small scouting party was ambushed and three angels fell almost immediately. And even though the Hellguard fought ferociously, for each slain fiend three more joined the battle. Where do they even keep coming from?! Their forces seemed endless. No matter how well trained the angels were, no matter how skilled and strong, the lonely squad stood no chance against the magnitude of the entire Horde. Leading her brethren as well as her meager experience allowed her to, Uriel ordered them to go into defensive and try to fall back. It was harder than it seemed. If they turned their backs on the demons and simply attempted to flee, they would surely die, taken down by those who also had ranged weapons on hand. To get out of this alive and with her soldiers, would have to take everything Abaddon had ever taught her. If only he were here… She thought, feeling her rapidly beating heart sadly skip a beat. Abaddon would probably find a way to turn this around and get away nearly unscathed.. No. Uriel shook her head and released two slashes of radiance towards approaching adversaries, promptly relieving them of their heads. There's no time for mourning right now. If she loses focus only for a second, she will be the one mourned after. She refused to end up like him.

Demons kept falling and kept coming as the angels were being pushed back by the swarm of razor-sharp claws, crude blades and snarling muzzles excitedly screeching for their blood. Uriel spun around and slashed a pouncing Goreclaw across its parted jaws, impaling its back as soon as it fell onto the ground, shrieking in pain. One of the Phantom Guards seized the opportunity and struck while she was distracted. A cry of pain escaped Uriel before she could stop it once a nasty, barbed blade cut through her left shoulder, leaving a long, deep gash all the way down to her elbow. The offense did not remain unanswered however, as an angel, even younger than Uriel, Isiel, jammed his sword into the demon's back, making it exit through its chest. But the moment a wave of relief washed over Uriel as the demon fell, a cold feeling of dread settled back into her stomach once a blast of dark energy struck Isiel right in the chest, tearing through his armor and sending him flying through the air.

"No! "

Isiel hit the ground like a rag doll and remained on his back, wheezing and helplessly trying to pull himself up. He was still alive but Uriel could only imagine how much pain he was in. Ribs were surely broken and his insides very likely damaged. Whipping around to face the fiend responsible for this, a Shadowcaster no less, twisted, animalistic and grinning maliciously, Uriel once again sent a slash of Heavenly light which cut through the air with a whizz, soon taking the grin away as it separated demon's serpentine lower body from the rest. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lailah, a bit older woman kneeling by Isiel's side and trying to help him up. Uriel could hardly blame her. Lately, for every member of the Hellguard each death, be it clean or gruesome, matters not, felt painful and unnecessary. They'd lost so many good people already so every demise was reaching the deepest parts of their souls, filling their hearts with sorrow. Whenever it could be avoided, even at great costs, they felt inclined to do everything they can to prevent it. Especially after they'd lost their general. If there's anything good about the apocalypse, it's that it brings people closer together. The White City would not open its gates before them and so all they had left was themselves.

It was the final moment if they wanted to survive this. They either fall back now or not at all. Uriel shouted to her companions to get back as she flew up into the air only to slam back down on the ground, sending out impulses of electricity, shocking the demons in the first and second line, giving her and her soldiers the much needed opening. That was their chance.

But…

In the chaos filled with resounding crashing of metal, roars of either charging or dying demons and hundreds of heavy footsteps, no angel had heard a sinister sound of enormous wings swiftly growing closer with each beat. Not until it was too late. The moment Uriel called for retreat and was about to join her comrades in escape, the ground trembled under her feet as a grand shadow fell over her and a wall of blistering heat cut off the only escape route. She could hear horrified gasps of the remaining angels even before her hair fluttered on a hot exhale from above and she saw demons halt in their ceaseless assault to look up.

Painfully slowly, Uriel turned around, catching glimpses of her soldiers's aghast looks as they stood by a set of gigantic paws armed with sharp claws, each as long as she was tall. There were very few things Uriel was afraid of. Her courage was something to truly admire. But now, already knowing what sight would greet her even before she looked up, she couldn't help but choke on her own breath as her eyes landed on the monster. A humongous dragon with scales as black as sin, marked by a web of burning cracks, like volcanic rocks, its head adorned with two pairs of twisted horns, the lower left one broken off, was looming over them and glaring down at them. Uriel could've sworn she'd felt her heart cease its drumming only to start anew with tripled ferocity under this smouldering gaze. If this wasn't the best example of being stuck between a hammer and a hard place, then nothing was.

Despite how grave the situation was, Uriel had to try really hard not to laugh sarcastically. The almighty Destroyer himself came after her and the small part of the Hellguard. She honestly wasn't sure if she should feel honored that the Hell's General gave them his precious time, or if she should be angry at the Universe for being so bent on murdering her lately. Isn't that enough that Abaddon had fallen? Does she need to die as well? Sighing with defeat, Uriel stared up at the Destroyer still sneering at them spitefully. Or maybe he wasn't sneering at all? Hard to tell. The bastard seems like he's always looking to pick up a fight. Maybe it's the eyes… or maybe the nasty, jagged teeth not concealed by any lips, constantly bared in something resembling a blood-hungry snarl? She couldn't decide and at this point she hardly cared. It didn't matter what she would do anymore. Anything would end the same way. This was it. And so, the Champion of the White City meets her end at the hands- claws, of the Destroyer on this shattered world, leaving this life behind far too soon before she could have her vengeance for Abaddon's death. If there's anything good in it, she wouldn't have to struggle to survive anymore and maybe, just maybe a lucky twist of fate will let her find her beloved in the City of the Dead… Though honestly, considering how lucky she'd been thus far, to say Uriel was reluctant to rely on good fortune would be a severe understatement. The only thing that saddened her was that without a leader the remaining Hellguard will fall as well.. None of them deserved this fate. Did she?

What did I do to suffer so?

All of the survivors - Enamel, Ariel, Azar and Lailah supporting Isiel on her shoulder - backed away from the Destroyer and towards Uriel to seek at least some semblance of comfort and kinship in their last moments on this planet.

Uriel held her gold and silver sword tightly, unwilling to go out without a weapon in hand, when she heard one of the demons behind her growl something in demon-speech she couldn't quite catch but there was no doubt in her mind that this one was speaking to the Destroyer, possibly asking for orders. After all, it's rare for him to interfere in such trivial matters. He had to have had a good reason. Not even taking his gaze off their small group, Destroyer narrowed his eyes and murmured, more to himself than to his subordinates, however, not in the same language, but in common tongue. And that Uriel could definitely understand.

"No mercy for the wretches."

Casting a hateful glare up at the Destroyer, Uriel pressed her mouth into a thin line, speaking a silent promise of vengeance, if not by her hand then someone else's. He will not get away with his crimes even if he retreated into the deepest corners of the Abyss itself. You will regret this. She wordlessly told him. But then, something unexpected happened. The Destroyer answered her determined look with a squint and a huff of smoke through the blazing hole where his nose should be.

I know.

His look clearly said, stunning Uriel for just a short moment before a gunshot rang out and a blazing stake came screaming at an alarming velocity towards all angels huddled together. The Champion shut her eyes on a reflex just as her companions screamed with alarm, silently calling out to the Creator and to Abaddon to forgive her for her failure, bracing for the inevitable pain. Pain that, to her utter bewilderment, never came. A rapid movement, heat wrapping around the six of them like a blanket, a deafening explosion close by, surprised and outraged roars of the Horde breaking through the ringing in her ears caused by the aforementioned explosion… and then silence. No pain.

Uriel pried her eyes open and scrutinized her surroundings, with a pang of horror, shock and confusion realising that she and the rest are directly under the Destroyer who had moved to shield them from the blow with the vast expanse of his blood-red, leathery wings. What. Both the demons and her soldiers had the same look of dumb flabbergastion on their faces when she glanced at them, maybe except for poor Isiel who had passed out by that point. Uriel shifted her gaze from her shocked brethren to the underside of Destroyer's spiked chin, noting how his voice box was starting to vibrate to produce a low, menacing growl from the depths of his massive, armored chest, rumbling around them like a thunder. And what a horrid sound it was…

"Heaven's grace…"

She heard Azar whisper with dread, pale as a sheet of paper as though he was about to faint as well and she couldn't really blame him for it. They brushed with death in battle, had the Destroyer himself come after them and suddenly the same Destroyer for a reason she couldn't fathom decided to save them the painful demise by moving his own wing into the way of a flaming projectile. The same monster who led his minions against the Hellguard to slaughter them more times than Uriel was able to count. But this time something was different. Anyone would've been terrified and shocked. Uriel would really give anything to know what in the Nine Circles was happening up inside his head at this very moment. But as though it wasn't enough to cause her distress, the Destroyer parted his jaws and released a bloodcurdling roar that sent tremors through the very earth the Hellguard stood on before pouncing over their heads and crashing into the army of demons with the force of a wrecking ball.

Neither side was prepared for what was about to transpire. Uriel and her warriors watched with wide eyes the chaos that ensued. The mass of flailing limbs, not always necessarily attached to their bodies, blood spurting here and there from time to time, bursts of fire from demonic guns and from Destroyer's throat. Flaming claws were swiping with frightening aggression, blackened teeth clacking every time they found a defenseless target, tail swishing, knocking demons around like they were just toys, as the General of Hell was laying waste to his own Legion. For a moment Uriel was sure she's hallucinating or something when she heard Ariel blurt out

"By Abaddon's eye, what is happening ?!"

"You're seeing this too, right? I am not losing my mind?"

Enamel followed and with utmost certainty Uriel could say that none of them is going insane and they're truly witnessing the Destroyer ripping demons apart left and right with vicious bellows and growls leaving his maw every time a new body hit the ground or when a blade or claw landed on his armored hide doing next to nothing aside from riling him up even further. Even as stunned as she was, Uriel still managed to duck just in time when the Destroyer flung a bloody Trauma over their heads like the thing weighed no more than a skipping rock. The large demon landed right behind them with its throat torn open and never moved again. It started to make sense. No mercy for the wretches. He-... he didn't mean us? But the demons?

Uriel knew that whatever directed Destroyer's actions, this was their chance for escape but no matter how much she wanted to order the Hellguard to flee and then leave with them, she could neither speak nor move, paralyzed by bewilderment and the horrifying scene playing out before her eyes. It wasn't even a fight. It was a slaughter. As long as she lives, Uriel had never witnessed a carnage of this magnitude. Even the Endwar seemed to pale in comparison to this. All she could do was gawk with her jaw slack and truth be told, others looked exactly the same.

The demons quickly caught the hint that they weren't winning this and soon they were running for their lives with pathetic squeals of terror leaving their mouths. Even as they fled, most of them weren't lucky enough to get out of range of Destroyer's talons or fangs in time. The unfortunate Duskwing that met its end when he jumped up and snapped it out of the air to crush it with his jaws certainly was the unlucky one. Another Phantom Guard sailed through the air and landed at Uriel's feet after the hellish dragon spun and swatted it off its feet with his tail and a blow of his wings in… a vaguely familiar move Uriel had seen many angels, never demons, perform, using a blade instead of a tail. Hell, even she tended to employ this attack in her fights. It was Abaddon who taught her this... To say it was disconcerting would fail to describe half of it. The mere thought chilled her to the bone. Uriel didn't even blink when Azar finished the demon off before it could stand back up. She was still staring at the Destroyer who stood there amidst the sea of corpses and watching what was left of the Horde flee in panic before releasing another furious roar, spitting fire in their direction, as though he hadn't made his point across yet.

Once the demons were either dead or gone, a thick silence fell. So thick that one would hear a pin drop were it not for the raspy panting of the Destroyer still standing before the surviving angels from the scouting party, his massive head low, red wings raised above his head in a threatening manner. Flames were still dancing within his jaws as he rabidly growled after the disappearing army. Then, he slowly turned to face them, covered head to toe in rancid blood and viscera of demons which was quickly drying in the heat his body was producing, and… suddenly, the growling stopped. Still, this mad look half-clouded with bloodlust sent a shiver down Uriel's spine. Destroyer lowered his wings and moved to fully turn to the dumbfounded and very disturbed angels as the ravenous spark faded out of his gaze.

Instinctively, Uriel stepped out from the group protectively, clutching her sword, burning with divine fire, in case he had a change of heart and she still needed to defend herself and her people. It could've been a trick or something but… Uriel didn't know about demons but she wouldn't senselessly murder her own soldiers just to gain trust of such a small group only to turn on them afterwards. It just didn't seem worth it.. nor did it make sense. Though honestly, what did make sense ever since the Destroyer made an appearance? Even still, she didn't wish to take any chances. For a few awfully long minutes she glared at the great wyrm and he glared at her. The tension between the two of them could make the air separating them sharp enough to cut on it. Every second Uriel was prepared for a blast of fire or a simple straightforward physical attack but neither of those things happened. Instead, she noticed the Destroyer's eyes flick down to her left arm where she'd been wounded before. Blood was still oozing down her limb. Somehow, spotting her injury seemed to have broken the stalemate as the Destroyer squinted before lowering his head to break the eye contact.

Filled with new courage, Uriel carefully started to approach him when she was stopped by Azar, quietly hissing

"Don't! He might-"

"He won't.."

She assured him, hoping beyond hope the Destroyer will not make her a liar. A mass of questions swirled in her mind and she was determined to get answers. Uriel slowly closed the gap between herself and the demonic general, fearless yet still cautious, and once she was merely a few feet away and he still made no move to harm her, she said a single word which carried all the power she had within her, even though a tremble of weariness and slowly fading vestiges of fear still remained.

"Why ? "

Absolutely no idea as to his odd behavior came to Uriel's mind. The Destroyer didn't seem to be injured in any way, and after seeing him take on the whole Horde to come out without so much of a scratch, she honestly doubted a regular weapon can damage him at all. Perhaps he was ill? Sickness often can make one delusional or volatile. Uriel had seen many times an ortho lash out at its caretakers in feverish delirium but the Destroyer, despite what some might say, was not an animal relying on instincts but an intelligent and thinking creature. And it still doesn't explain why he spared them while killing his own kin. Besides, can he even get ill? Unlikely.

This certainly was not a madness induced clouding of judgement either. In that case they would've died as well. Whatever the answer was, only the Destroyer himself carried it. And apparently he wasn't keen on sharing it anytime soon. Destroyer's chest moved out and a moment later she felt the unbearably hot breath wash over her as he heaved out a long suffering sigh. But Uriel would sooner die than to let her pride be wounded by covering herself from the heat. Still, he didn't look up, nor did he say a word. If she hadn't known better, she would've said he was.. cowering. As though he was… afraid of her? Strange..

"Tell me."

She insisted, and this time the Destroyer looked up and for just a second locked eyes with her. Well..  eye. Only up this close Uriel noticed an old gash over the right one which was no more than a pool of trembling fire. This short but close eye contact was a catalyst. Suddenly, something clicked between them, making Uriel gasp softly. This cold, hollow spot in her mind that was left after a severed bond, when she quite literally felt Abaddon's heart abruptly stop as he was crushed by a demon so gargantuan it made him, an archangel at almost twice as tall as she is, seem small in comparison, before her very eyes, just for a moment flickered with barely perceptible warmth. A stark contrast to the suffocating heat of Destroyer's presence. It lasted no longer than a second but it was undoubtedly there. And the flash of unexpected panic in Destroyer's only eye told her that he had felt it too.

This surely had to be a coincidence, though. What else could it be?

General of Hell took a step back with a quiet, warning rumble leaving his throat before he turned his gaze down, his expression morphing into something akin to anguish as though he was in immense pain. And in this action Uriel saw it all. Sorrow. Anger. Shame. Confusion. Repentance? Of all the creatures in the Universe, she never expected the Destroyer to be this easy to read. All of the sudden it felt as though she'd known him for ages.

"That I cannot do."

He stated simply, moments later spreading his enormous wings and with one mighty beat propelling himself into the air, the gust of wind knocking Uriel down onto her rear. He fled, just like that, leaving the absolutely dumbfounded angels behind. Still stunned by the encounter, Uriel watched the Destroyer quickly turn smaller and smaller until his silhouette completely disappeared between the thick clouds gathered in the sky, oddly enough, feeling the coldness creep back into her head as he departed.

As soon as he was gone, Azar, still deathly pale, ran up to her to help her up.

"Is everything alright?"

"I… I suppose it is…"

She answered hesitantly as her companion pulled her up to her feet. But in truth nothing was alright. How could it after what she'd just witnessed? But despite everything, she couldn't help but feel… grateful. Were it not for the timely intervention of who was supposed to be Heaven's mortal foe neither she nor her soldiers would be standing here. Ariel, a little green in the face came up too and shot a wary glance towards the direction where the Destroyer disappeared.

"What… what just happened?"

"I am uncertain.. The Destroyer just saved our lives. But. Why? Uriel, what do you make of this?"

Looking up at the sky as a distant thunder rolled over the crumbling city, heralding the coming of a rainstorm, Uriel furrowed her eyebrows, humming thoughtfully, still having the memory of this strange feeling lingering in her mind. It had to be a coincidence. That the Destroyer is missing the same eye Abaddon did. That they share a similar fighting style… that something happened when they locked eyes.. Uriel knew all to well that Abaddon has died. She'd seen this happen after all. By all means, it shouldn't be possible. Still, those implications alone made her feel sick. What if... it felt as though she'd known him for ages... because she has ?

Perhaps she really was going mad? Seeing a connection where there was none? Uriel dared not to voice her dire suspicions. There was no need to strike any more blows to the Hellguard's morale. Besides, she couldn't say for sure just yet. This does not mean she won't turn the world upside down to find out the truth hidden beneath those dark scales however. Hoping, begging it wasn't what she feared...

"I think there's much we do not know yet.."

But one thing she knew for certain. The sight of the Destroyer violently tearing demons to shreds with pure hatred burning in his eyes was still fresh in her mind. This moment when the Destroyer turned to them amidst the corpses of his former allies. The paralyzing glare of his blazing eye…

It will surely haunt her nightmares until the very last breath finally escapes her…

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*dabs in exhaustion* Brb, gonna look for some energy. That leach of a Destroyer sucked it all out of me. Only sketches of him from now on once I have my motivation back 🙇

Idk, what this fic is but, eh, I guess? Anyways, cheers! *fades away into the cringe abyss*

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #darksiders 3 #darksiders fic #my fic #my art #fan art #darksiders uriel #uriel #darksiders abaddon #abaddon #I'm hyperfixated on him #sry not sry #darksiders destroyer #alternate scenario #he's a total bitch to draw #I'm utterly spent after this one #does that technically count as abaddon/uriel ??? #idk XD #I'm ded 💀 #literally destroyed #pun intended