#Snow Queen mantle

[jhsharman]

snow queen two

The (most of) color changes were made before the dialogue change. Not sure what the implications are there -- Miss Grundy not apt to win "Snow Queen", or has that title slid into antiquity?

This is more effort than I would give to honor any teacher of mine. Like, by a factor of a thousand.

#Archie Comics #Mr. Weatherbee #Miss Grundy #Betty Cooper #Veronica Lodge #Moose Mason #Jughead #Reggie Mantle #Archie Andrews #Snow sculpture #Snow Queen #Teacher of the Year #Snow #Dan Decarlo #1965

[chvoswxtch]

to the halloween queen, i hope this october is treating you well!! i was wondering if i could request a gut wrenching, angsty fic with billy based on paramore’s sanity?

if i call out your name, you don’t come/

no one home, but the void is loud/

echoes around my empty house/

sentences are slowing down

in all honesty, i don’t have many specifics in mind. i was thinking of an established relationship slowly but surely growing apart. to the point they eat dinner in silence, the distance between them whilst sleeping in the same bed grows more and more…in other words, i am asking you to break my heart!

i go by she/her pronouns and they can be used!

<3 thank you, take care, and ily <3

oh my darling sweet nonnie, you definitely came to the right place. I hope october has been kind to you, bc i'm about to break your heart as requested. i'll be here with tissues afterwards 🖤

warning: swearing, slight mention of alcohol, heavy angst word count: 1.4k

sanity.

no one home, but the void is loud / echoes around my empty house

The white noise of bustling traffic was muffled by the dull roar of an icy midnight breeze slowly fading in the background. Through the grand floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse, you could see brilliant lights twinkling in a kaleidoscope of colors, vehicles zipping by in a flash in various directions, and masses of people navigating the city by heart. Outside, New York City was clamoring proudly with life.

But in the emptiness of the penthouse, it was so silent and still that the sound of fresh snow hitting the glass was as loud as thunder cracking across the sky.

In a place that more than three million people called home, you had never felt more alone. Standing in front of the expansive windows with the chill radiating through the glass nipping at your nose and cheeks, you felt completely numb and simultaneously like an open wound at the same time. It didn’t always feel this cold.

Last year at this exact same time, this place still felt like home. You could still feel the heat from the flames dancing in the fireplace licking at your skin while the golden glow of the fire created a warm and comforting ambiance in the living room. You could still taste the richness of hot cocoa caressing your tongue, and still hear the sound of Billy’s heartbeat playing in your ear while your head rested on his chest as the two of you admired the tree you had put up together from the couch. Billy had insisted on going all out since he had never really celebrated the holidays before due to growing up in the system. 

In a moment of sincere vulnerability while you were teaching him your special recipe for chocolate chip cookies, Billy had revealed to you that you were the first person he’d ever had to make the holidays feel special. It had been such a big deal to him to make sure everything was perfect, and it made your heart swell like a balloon in your rib cage seeing the childlike happiness on his face as the two of you celebrated together.

That special time now felt like a lifetime ago.

Now, there was only the scent of stale ash in the fireplace, and the absence of Billy’s holiday spirit lingering along the mantle and in the corner of the living room.

You weren’t sure exactly when it happened, but somewhere along the line, something changed. Billy no longer stopped by your work because he was “in the neighborhood” and just wanted to see you. Conversations became shorter and shorter at dinner until it reached the point of the two of you eating in deafening silence, and then ultimately you found yourself eating alone. Billy no longer wrapped himself around you in bed like a security blanket, and instead you found an ocean between you that kept growing wider and wider until you were stranded in the middle of it alone struggling to keep your head above water. He began to travel more, spent longer hours at the office, and lately would go days without speaking to you at all.

There was no more playful banter and flirtatious teasing in crowded spaces. It had been five months since you and Billy had gone on an actual date, and he had barely touched you in three.  On the rare occasion that he made it home at a decent hour, he ignored your passionate advances and locked himself away in his home office. You and Billy used to not be able to keep your hands off one another, and now you couldn’t even get him to give you a simple peck on the cheek. You couldn’t even remember the last time that he had told you he loved you.

For the past few months, there was a heavy sense of grief weighing on your heart like liquid cement almost as if Billy had died. He would appear suddenly, and then vanish right before your eyes even quicker like an apparition. He barely acknowledged your presence when you called out to him, as if you were the ghost lingering around. The last time you had reached for his hand, it was cold and stiff like that of a corpse. You fought defiantly against the stage of acceptance and refused to admit to yourself that your relationship was decaying in the grave. Instead you remained stubbornly stuck in a purgatory of mourning for the Billy you had fallen in love with, feeling haunted by your own foolish hope and his lingering presence in your heart.

Denial plagued you for months as you frantically tried everything to resuscitate the pulse in your relationship. You changed your hair a few times and put more effort into your outfits and appearance, which consistently went unnoticed by Billy. You planned romantic dates and elaborate getaway trips that he instantly declined. The past three times you had attempted to surprise him at the office for lunch, you couldn’t even get past his receptionist. 

Most nights you spent alone, drowning in your own agony, screaming and sobbing at the stars for answers because Billy wasn’t there to provide them. In moments of over indulgence from the built in bar, you nearly gave into your desperation and participated in the reckless thoughts intrusively entering your head that you were absolutely sure would capture Billy’s attention. But then the epiphany that you felt like you had to put yourself in a dangerous situation just for him to notice you again would shatter your soul into a thousand jagged pieces.

Had you done something to make Billy become so distant? Was he going through something he felt he couldn’t talk to you about? Did he love you at all anymore? Was there someone else? 

That last question made you violently nauseous. The not knowing what was happening with Billy drove you absolutely fucking mad, and you tried every method you could think of to stop the hemorrhaging to salvage what the two of you had. 

But eventually, the weight of the blood staining your hands was impossible to ignore, and the tone of a flatline rang loudly in your ears. The heaviness you felt was a clear sign that there was no longer life left in what you and Billy had created together, and the warm thrum of a pulse would never be found again.

You didn’t bother to tell Billy that you were leaving. The eulogy had already been engraved on the headstone months ago, you just couldn’t bring yourself to read it. Taking one last glance around the penthouse that had been your shared home, all you could think about was the day you first moved in. Everything had looked so bright, felt so warm and inviting, and Billy had been ecstatic to share a home with you. He had told you that you were what made the place feel like home, and in a moment of candor entrusted you with the sentiment of how happy it made him to finally have someone to come home to.

But now as you stood in the middle of the living room in the dark, it just felt cold and empty. Billy had been gone for two weeks on a business trip and was supposed to return home tomorrow, but this time you wouldn’t be there waiting by the door to welcome him back. After finally finding the strength to face the heartbreaking truth of your reality, you had spent the past twenty-four hours removing every trace of your existence. There was only one last thing to erase.

The devastating loss had left your heart maimed, and the memories of Billy’s touch afflicted phantom bruises onto your skin. It was time to tend to your own wounds and mend the parts of you that had been broken by him. After one final look around, you placed the handcrafted engagement ring on the kitchen island like a rose on a coffin as a silent goodbye and quietly disappeared into the depths of midnight.

tags: @nolita-fairytale @thyme-in-a-bubble @mars-rants-a-lot @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @topperthornton

#billy russo #billy russo x you #billy russo x reader #billy russo fic #billy russo request

[thedemonofcat]

Geralt finds himself embarking on an intriguing contract, unlike any he has encountered before. Mysterious deaths are occurring, and the victims meet their end in a manner reminiscent of fairy tales, but with a twisted twist—the stories don't conclude with the customary "happily ever after." Determined to put an end to the killings, Geralt stumbles upon a revelation: the only way to stop the murders is to ensure that the stories reach their proper resolution. Realizing the complexity of the task at hand, Geralt decides to seek the assistance of an unexpected ally—Jaskier.

Their relationship has been strained since their encounter on the mountain, and their interactions have been scarce. Nevertheless, Geralt recognizes Jaskier's exceptional storytelling abilities and believes he possesses the knowledge to rectify these twisted fairy tales. Despite the potential awkwardness, Geralt approaches Jaskier with his proposition, and to his surprise, Jaskier agrees wholeheartedly to lend his aid.

Eventually, Geralt and Jaskier trace the twisted fairy tales to their source—an eccentric witch with an unusual obsession for these stories. This witch, however, finds the traditional "happily ever after" endings to be dreadfully dull. Driven by her desire to craft a unique tale, she sets out to write her own narrative. As Geralt and Jaskier confront the witch, she fixes her unsettling gaze upon Jaskier and reveals her sinister plan: he is the perfect character for her story.

With a wicked grin on her face, the witch prepares to cast a spell on Jaskier, intending to ensnare him in her twisted tale. Acting swiftly, Geralt steps forward to shield his friend, but his valiant effort only results in both of them being struck by the witch's malevolent magic.

To their bewilderment, Geralt and Jaskier find themselves transported into the very storybook world the witch has created. They are thrust into the first tale, a twisted rendition of Cinderella, with Jaskier cast in the role of the beleaguered Cinderella and Geralt assuming the mantle of Prince Charming. It becomes apparent to Geralt that the only means of escaping this enchanting prison is to follow the path the witch has written and bring the story to its conclusion, including the pivotal kiss at the end.

What should have been a wondrous adventure turns into an excruciating ordeal as Geralt and Jaskier find themselves compelled to share a kiss to bring each story to its conclusion. Their next trial leads them into the tale of Rapunzel, but with a twist—this time, Geralt assumes the role of the main character, while Jaskier finds amusement in witnessing Geralt adorned with long, flowing hair, much to the Witcher's chagrin. However, Jaskier's mirth quickly fades as the story takes a dark turn, leaving him bereft of sight.

As the narrative unfolds, Jaskier experiences the anguish of blindness, relying solely on Geralt's guidance amidst the labyrinthine tower. Geralt, burdened by the weight of his friend's suffering, searches for a solution within the confines of the tale. Yet again, they are faced with the unsettling prospect of sharing a kiss to bring the story to its rightful conclusion.

Reluctantly, Geralt and Jaskier confront the necessity of this intimate act, one born out of a twisted curse that binds them to the story's fate. Though hesitant, they both understand the gravity of the situation and recognize that their sacrifice is the only way to escape this enchanted cycle.

One by one, Geralt and Jaskier find themselves entangled in the roles of various fairy tales. From Beauty and the Beast to Snow White, from The Frog Prince to The Snow Queen, and even to The Little Mermaid and Sleeping Beauty, they are pulled into a tapestry of enchantment. Each story, however, only reaches its conclusion when Geralt and Jaskier share a kiss—a bittersweet requirement that marks their passage to the next tale.

Their final ordeal manifests in the tale of Swan Lake, where Jaskier undergoes a transformation, becoming a swan. As they near the story's end, Jaskier, burdened by the pain of their forced kisses, refuses to engage in yet another heart-wrenching act. He professes his love for Geralt, aware that his feelings are unrequited and that the repeated kisses have taken a toll on his soul.

To Geralt's dismay, as soon as Jaskier voices his emotions, he inexplicably loses his memories, believing himself to be an actual character within the fairy tales. Geralt desperately pleads with Jaskier to remember him, to recall their shared adventures and deep bond, but his efforts prove futile.

In this pivotal moment, the witch materializes, explaining that in order for Jaskier to become part of her new story, he must forget his true identity. The witch reveals that Geralt's presence within these tales is a mistake, and she has come to return him home.

Refusing to abandon Jaskier, Geralt stands his ground, declaring that he cannot leave without the one he loves. He admits his love for Jaskier, a love he had always been too afraid to express, and he is determined to fight for their bond.

Infuriated by Geralt's defiance, the witch and the Witcher engage in a fierce battle. With courage fueled by his love for Jaskier, Geralt triumphs over the witch, reclaiming his agency in the face of overwhelming odds. As the witch's power wanes, Jaskier's memories are restored, and he remembers who he truly is.

This time, Geralt and Jaskier share a kiss that transcends the necessity of the tale. It is a genuine expression of their love, sealing their bond, and together, they are finally transported back to their home realm.

In the wake of their return, Geralt and Jaskier find solace in the knowledge that their love is reciprocated

#the witcher netflix #joey batey #jaskier the witcher #geralt of rivia #the witcher #henry cavill #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fic ideas #jaskier #gerskier #the witcher season 3 #fairy tale retelling #fairy tales

[kaftan]

Yellowjackets x The Land of Silence by May Sarton. ID under the cut.

[ID: 14 screencaps from Yellowjackets, with a line from The Land of Silence edited over each one.

Image 1: "Time beats like a heart; we do not hear it" / Pit girl's blood draining into the snow. Image 2: "But we are nourished as by sleep after pain." / The yellowjackets walking off after having seemingly consumed pit girl's flesh. Image 3: "Death is so close to life that we can bear it." / Jackie dropping her heart necklace into Shauna's hand on the plane. Image 4: "The smallest veins drink time and breathe again." / Shauna smiling down at what she thinks is her breastfeeding baby. Image 5: "Now I am here in the land of silence," / An image of the wilderness: forest to the left, lake to the right. Image 6: "Of the near dove and the distant hills," / Van holding up Tai's hand in the lake as Tai looks down at her dirt-stained fingernails. Image 7: "I know that the surface is the essence," / The bloody-antlered deer, Lottie's first hallucination. Image 8: "No stripping down what is already bare," / The yellowjackets gathered in the attic as a blindfolded Shauna holds a knife on a string for the seance. Image 9: "No probing what is absolutely here." / Van holding the deck of cards as they prepare to draw for the first time. Image 10: "This is the land of bones and violent dreaming" / The yellowjackets laughing at the bacchanal as they begin to eat. Image 11: "Where heaven is woven in and out of hell" / Shauna and Akilah wrapping themselves around Travis during the doomcoming orgy. Image 12: "And each not essence but actual and near." / The queen card appearing in the adult timeline underneath a note that reads 'I am grateful for my friends.' The top of the text is cut off, so only 'for my friends' is visible. Image 13: "Even more than love we search for faith" / A collage of four screencaps: Lottie pricking her finger for the blood tea, Travis setting Javi's wooden figurine on the mantle, Tai pressing the deer bone into Shauna's hands, Lottie holding Laura Lee's cross necklace in a hallucination. Image 14: "Who in this high air must gasp for breath." / The yellowjackets face the cabin as it burns.

End ID]

#my favorite ever poem. hi. this was a bitch and a half to edit #yellowjackets #yellowjackets spoilers #aka D DON'T LOOK #long post

[totkdaily]

Day 83: Gerudo Desert, and Riju

From here, the desert looks foggy. Perhaps a sand storm? I hope it clears before I need to head to Gerudo Town. I spot two other things of note: the tower in the Highlands, and a geoglyph. It looks like a figure of some kind. Could I glide all the way there? It looks far… 

No. But I at least get on the right level of the Highlands. It's even colder up here. I find the geoglyph. 

A vision. I see...

Ganondorf swears loyalty to the King of Hyrule. The conversation is tense.

This vision is different - as they talk, I feel I'm following Ganondorf's eyes specifically. Examining each secret stone on display, ignoring their bearers. Resting again on Sonia's. I have already seen the Queen's fate. 

Zelda is concerned. Even his name… I understand her hesitancy, and I share it. Rauru is foolish to reassure her. Everything could have been prevented if Ganondorf had been stopped here. Rauru was right. He was an arrogant king. So sure none could unseat him. 

It's so cold. I have to keep moving. I consider leaving the tower for another day, but I'm halfway there now. 

I glide over what must be the old Yiga Clan hideout - I wonder if they still use it? That map in Robbie's lab suggested yes. 

I reach the tower. There's a little tent - the journal belongs to Billson. The tower is snowed in… fortunately, it sounds like there's a cave somewhere below. 

Meadella's Mantle Cave. I wonder if this is it? Billson's records suggest the cave does go under the tower - but also that it's massive. There's a river flowing through it - I chuck a wooden board into it and climb on. 

Bubbulfrog! By complete chance, I manage to land its gem on my rudimentary raft as it lands at the bottom of the waterfall. 

The raft takes me perfectly under the tower. And launch!

I try to glide to a southerly sky island to hop over to Gerudo Town - but it turns out to be inhabited by a three-headed dragon, so we won't go there. I redirect to the plateaus around the old Sheikah Tower site, which is now a chasm to the Depths. The desert is engulfed by a sand storm. Can I make it to Gerudo Town from here? I feel like I should try. 

I barely get as far as the ruins before I completely lose visibility. I can hear these huge impacts, like explosions. There's a trio of… guards? No, training dummies. And the impacts flash like lightning. I know who's here - I rush to find her.

Riju. 

She recognises me still - it's good to find a friend. She says this sand shroud appeared when Hyrule Castle rose - that tracks. And there are new monsters - gibdos. We work out a technique which might be useful against them - I aim, and Riju shoots lightning. 

And then golden light fills the air… the Gerudo sage is watching us. 

Another Gerudo, Faundi, arrives. She says gibdos are attacking Kara Kara Bazaar. We have to go there. But… how can I find my way in this?? 

I climb a piece of ruin, intending to guess and glide - but it's high enough that I can see across the sand shroud, thank goodness. Aiming for the bazaar is still a guess, but it's slightly more informed. 

I almost lose my way once I glide back below the horizon, but I make it to Kara Kara Bazaar and help Riju fight off the gibdos. Awful creatures, long-limbed and half-rotten, with insectoid faces and gill-like necks.

I think I saw some through the sand storm on my way here. I'm glad I didn't have to fight them without Riju. There's some kind of weird mushroom that glows, seemingly the source of the gibdos or their power. 

Suddenly, through the sand - Zelda!

No, it can't be. It must be the imposter. Coincidentally, right at that moment, tornadoes head for Gerudo Town.

Riju heads back that way. I want to see if anyone I know is in the Bazaar before I join her. 

Also, I need to stop at the shrine here.

#totkdaily #day 83 #totk #loz #zelda #legend of zelda

[insomniac-jay]

DC OC | Reading List Pt.2

Sophia Evangelista | Angeknight

Angeknight: Between Heaven and Hell - Sophia's debut series that follows her and her team the Sun Angels on their mission to destroy the Fallen Angel Ophiel and her legion of darkness.

Pandora - Major supporting character. Elyon is both Sophia's ward and sidekick before being handed off to the newest Teen Titans.

Sol - Sophia is also a major supporting character in Solana's solo series as her mentor.

Angeknight: Schism - The longest series of Sophia's publication history at over 100 volumes long. Schism follows Sophia having to deal with splitting factions of Angels in Heaven, major changes in her work and personal lives, and learning secrets about her family.

Angeknight: Reformation - As Titans Academy's new guidance counselor, Sophia works hard to push the rowdy children in the right direction. However, she must answer Heaven's call again after receiving a disturbing vision.

Angeknight & Cheshire - A oneshot comic that follows Sophia and Jade tracking down the person who put a hit out on both of them. It takes place shortly after Reformation.

Knights of Titania: Faith, Trust, and Fairy Dust - She appears as a major supporting character. Sophia's one of the group's mentors despite not being a member of the Titans. This is her last appearance under her Angeknight name.

Isis - Sophia's Outsiders (2003) era. Sophia retires Angeknight and moves back to Star City for a fresh start. She forms a new team called the Calvary under a new codename: Isis.

Archangel - An Elseworld story where Sophia joins Team Arrow and becomes the White Arrow then Archangel.

Isis: Champion of Bana-Mighdall - Another alternate universe where Sophia never becomes a Seraphim, instead the champion of the Bana. Various team ups include Artemis, Niobe, Yara, and Donna Troy.

Marietta Brooks | Glamor

Glamor - Marietta's debut. The covers of each volume are references to different album covers of black femme pop singers.

Glamor: All That Glitters - A few years after her debut series, Marietta's reign hasn't stopped as she takes on Hollywood. Before that can happen, a person from her family's past threatens to put out her star.

Glamor: Back in Black - Marietta retires from the world of vigilante crime fighting and into her new position: award winning actress, singer, wife, and mother. That is until a person from her past as Glamor comes back with news so devastating, it forces her to don her costume one last time.

Venus Parks | Star Sapphire

Star Sapphire - Venus's debut. From world famous DJ to intergalactic warrior, Venus's life is full of twists and turns. As a Star Sapphire, it's her duty to restore love to the universe; but sometimes she needs a little love herself.

Star Sapphire: Ring of Light - Venus sought out by the queen of an alien planet to find and return a stolen artifact called the Ring of Light. Venus is up to the task only for the search to be more difficult than she expected. Having no other options, she's forced to team up with the newest Red Lantern, Furiosa.

Star Sapphire: City of Diamond - Who is the Twilight Knight; and why do they want her ring? That's a question Venus wants answered after a mysterious masked figure attacks her while returning to Earth. Teaming up with fellow Star Sapphire, Pepper Jackson, their search takes them to the farthest reaches of the galaxy, to a whole other solar system.

Star Sapphire: Trifecta - During an investigation into illegal weapons trafficking back on Earth, Venus crosses paths with Larissa and a new Green Lantern called Emerald Ranger. They join forces to create Trifecta, a team made up of the three lanterns.

Red Hood and the Outlaws - Venus joins the Outlaws as an ally before becoming a full member.

Boombox - After an incident with her Star Sapphire ring, Venus temporarily retires the mantle and begins to build a new one. Donning a mecha suit made of radio devices, Venus debuts as her new hero persona, Boombox.

Daliah Yukimura | Snow

Snow - Daliah's debut series that features her first forays into being the local superhero in her hometown of Happy Harbor.

Young Justice: Of Ice Queens and Sun Goddesses - Daliah's Young Justice debut. At the request of Superboy, Daliah joins the team alongside another new member, Solana Banks.

Snow & Arrowette - Mini series that follows Daliah and her childhood friend Cissie as a duo; before either of them joined Young Justice. A highlight of this miniseries is the family reunion from hell and the introduction of the Yukimura clan.

Snow & Crysticle - Another miniseries featuring Camryn, Daliah's older sister and member of the Watchers. Camryn has returned home for the summer which means sisterly fun and crime fighting.

Jawbreakers - Now in college and on her way to becoming a professional figure skater, Daliah moves to San Francisco with Solana as roommates. She puts her superhero career to the side to keep up her training. Eventually, she joins the newly formed Jawbreakers.

Justice Girls - An Elseworld story where Cassie breaks off from Young Justice to form her own team, the Justice Girls.

@mayameanderings @punkeropercyjackson @floof-ghostie @calciumcryptid

#jay's dc ocs

[waltwhitmansbeard]

I feel like poop, so may I request Vaxleth for #41: "My throat feels like it’s on fire.” from the caretaker/sick prompts, please? <3

41. “My throat feels like it’s on fire.”  i'm sorry you're feeling bad <3 hope this makes things better!

The winter sucks. The air is dry, everything is cold, and no matter how hard he tries, Vax can never get the feeling to come back to the tips of his ears. And now, this: the stuffed nose, the achy joints, the swollen throat. He's sick, and it is the most miserable thing he has ever experienced, including that time he died.

And to make it worse, the fever is setting in, so even though the tips of his ears remain obstinately frozen, he's sweating. He alternates between kicking the covers off and dragging them back over himself, but nothing ever feels right. He wants to bury himself in the snow outside and be stretched out in front of a roaring fire at the same time. The fever isn't helping him sleep, either, so he's exhausted on top of all of it. Is this what the Raven Queen chose him for? Abject misery and suffering?

The door to the bedroom squeaks open, and a face appears from the hall, the one face in the world that could make him feel even marginally better. "How you doing in here?"

The groan he lets out sounds more like Trinket than himself. With a small laugh, Keyleth slips inside, sliding her mantle off of her shoulders and draping it over a hook on the back of the door. "I'm sorry you're feeling so crummy." She comes to perch on the edge of the bed, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. "Does anything hurt?"

Vax reaches up to take her hand in his head. "'M okay," he mumbles, pressing her fingers to his lips.

"Okay, liar, wanna try that again?"

He pouts. "My throat feels like it's on fire," he begrudgingly admits.

"That's better." She plucks her hand from his and rests it against the column of his throat. She closes her eyes, and after a few moments, a pleasant warmth spreads across his neck, and for the first time in days, Vax can swallow without wanting to die.

"Thanks, Kiki," he rasps. "That feels...wow."

"It's not completely healed, but it's something." She bends down and kisses his cheek. "I'll go make you some tea, and I'll get a soup on, because you haven't been eating enough. You'll be better in no time."

Vax lets his eyes slide shut as she kisses him once more, this time on his forehead, and gets up from the bed. Yeah, winter sucks, but sometimes it means a pretty girl kisses you and brings you warm foods, so he guesses it has some perks.

#ask #ravendruid #critical role #critical role fic #cr fic #vaxleth #vaxleth fic #vox machina #vox machina fic #my fic

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Reek III (Theon III) [Chapter 32]

The dogs were fond of Reek; he slept with them oft as not, and sometimes Ben Bones let him share their supper. 

[...]

Red Jeyne slammed into his chest and knocked him off his feet. She was lean, hard muscle, where Reek was loose, grey skin and brittle bones, a white-haired starveling.

[...]

The dogs enjoyed the run of the hall, however, and provided the night's best entertainment, when Maude and Grey Jeyne tore into one of Lord Stout's hounds over an especially meaty bone that Will Short had tossed them.

I'm starting to think that's an important name!

+.+.+

Ramsay Bolton was attired as befit the lord of the Hornwood and heir to the Dreadfort. His mantle was stitched together from wolfskins and clasped against the autumn chill by the yellowed teeth of the wolf's head on his right shoulder. On one hip he wore a falchion, its blade as thick and heavy as a cleaver; on the other a long dagger and a small curved flaying knife with a hooked point and a razor-sharp edge. 

I think I'm going to pay attention to that dagger.

I am completely unfazed by Ramsay wearing wolfskins. Doesn't trouble me in the slightest.

The queen regarded him coolly. "I had not thought you so niggardly. The king I'd thought to wed would have laid a wolfskin across my bed before the sun went down." - Eddard III, AGOT

x

"Dogs," the big bald man said contemptuously. "Yet I'm told there's nothing like a wolfskin cloak to warm a man by night." He made a sharp gesture. "Take them." - Bran V, AGOT

x

"He'll set his wolf on you, cousin," warned Big Walder.

"Let him. I always wanted a wolfskin cloak." - Bran II, ACOK

x

"Come first light, I mean to bring them back." He hooked his thumbs through his swordbelt. "I need huntsmen. Who wants a nice warm wolfskin to see them through the winter? Gage?" - Theon IV, ACOK

+.+.+

Little Walder swung down from the saddle. "You can see to my horse too, Reek. And to my little cousin's."

"I can see to my own horse," said Big Walder. Little Walder had become Lord Ramsay's best boy and grew more like him every day, but the smaller Frey was made of different stuff and seldom took part in his cousin's games and cruelties.

I think I figured it out.

Little Walder is like Ramsay.

Big Walder is like Roose.

+.+.+

Big Walder pulled the saddle off his grey. "An old man we met on the road, is all. He was driving an old nanny goat and four kids."

"His lordship slew him for his goats?"

"His lordship slew him for calling him Lord Snow. The goats were good, though. We milked the mother and roasted up the kids."

Lord Snow. Reek nodded, his chains clinking as he wrestled with Blood's saddle straps. By any name, Ramsay's no man to be around when he is in a rage. 

We already know he rages at this, but it's an important reminder for later on.

+.+.+

"Did you find your cousins, my lord?"

"No. I never thought we would. They're dead. Lord Wyman had them killed. That's what I would have done if I was him."

Under what other circumstances would you kill a Frey?

Wyman's three Frey guests have gone missing. My heart breaks.

+.+.+

The dogs enjoyed the run of the hall, however, and provided the night's best entertainment, when Maude and Grey Jeyne tore into one of Lord Stout's hounds over an especially meaty bone that Will Short had tossed them.

The fight did not end until their host's dog was dead. Stout's old hound never stood a mummer's chance. He had been one against two, and Ramsay's bitches were young, strong, and savage. 

Shaggydog can take two hounds.

I'm not worried. I'm not concerned.

+.+.+

Ben Bones, who liked the dogs better than their master, had told Reek they were all named after peasant girls Ramsay had hunted, raped, and killed back when he'd still been a bastard, running with the first Reek. "The ones who give him good sport, anywise. The ones who weep and beg and won't run don't get to come back as bitches." 

Sometimes the dead come back to haunt you, Ramsay.

+.+.+

"He's trained 'em to kill wolves as well," Ben Bones had confided. Reek said nothing. He knew which wolves the girls were meant to kill, but he had no wish to watch the girls fighting over his severed toe.

I am unbothered. I am indifferent.

Most people are aware of the note that George included in The Lion and The Rose script.

[N.B. A note for future reference. A season or two down the line Ramsay’s pack of wolfhounds are going to be sent against the Stark direwolves, so we should build up the dogs as much as possible in this and subsequent episodes.]

I can't see Nymeria or Summer participating in these events, so it has to be Shaggydog and Ghost.

+.+.+

The Lord of the Dreadfort glanced idly at the remnants of the feast, at the dead dog, at the hangings on the walls, at Reek in his chains and fetters. "Out," he told the feasters, in a voice as soft as a murmur. "Now. The lot of you."

Somehow Roose is more terrifying than Ramsay.

+.+.+

Roose Bolton shrugged. "Lord Wyman's litter moves at a snail's pace … and of course his lordship's health and girth do not permit him to travel more than a few hours a day, with frequent stops for meals. The Freys were anxious to reach Barrowton and be reunited with their kin. Can you blame them for riding on ahead?"

"If that's what they did. Do you believe Manderly?"

His father's pale eyes glittered. "Did I give you that impression? Still. His lordship is most distraught."

Mr. Manderly, you are on thin ice.

+.+.+

"What I noticed was that he brought no hostages."

"I noticed that as well."

"What do you mean to do about it?"

"It is a quandary."

Bolton has sent forth ravens, summoning all the lords of the north to Barrowton. He demands homage and hostages … and witnesses to the wedding of Arya Stark and his bastard Ramsay Snow, by which match the Boltons mean to lay claim to Winterfell. - Davos IV, ADWD

Very very thin ice.

+.+.+

"Barrow Hall and its kitchens are not mine to dispose of," his father said mildly. "I am only a guest there. The castle and the town belong to Lady Dustin, and she cannot abide you."

Ramsay's face darkened. "If I cut off her teats and feed them to my girls, will she abide me then? Will she abide me if I strip off her skin to make myself a pair of boots?"

"Unlikely. And those boots would come dear. They would cost us Barrowton, House Dustin, and the Ryswells." Roose Bolton seated himself across the table from his son. "Barbrey Dustin is my second wife's younger sister, Rodrik Ryswell's daughter, sister to Roger, Rickard, and mine own namesake, Roose, cousin to the other Ryswells. She was fond of my late son and suspects you of having some part in his demise. Lady Barbrey is a woman who knows how to nurse a grievance. Be grateful for that. Barrowton is staunch for Bolton largely because she still holds Ned Stark to blame for her husband's death."

This Barbrey woman sounds important.

I couldn't be happier that Ramsay wants to kill her.

+.+.+

"Stark's little wolflings are dead," said Ramsay, sloshing some more ale into his cup, "and they'll stay dead. Let them show their ugly faces, and my girls will rip those wolves of theirs to pieces. The sooner they turn up, the sooner I kill them again."

The elder Bolton sighed. "Again? Surely you misspeak. You never slew Lord Eddard's sons, those two sweet boys we loved so well. That was Theon Turncloak's work, remember?

He keeps making this mistake.

+.+.+

How many of our grudging friends do you imagine we'd retain if the truth were known? Only Lady Barbrey, whom you would turn into a pair of boots … inferior boots. Human skin is not as tough as cowhide and will not wear as well. By the king's decree you are now a Bolton. Try and act like one. Tales are told of you, Ramsay. I hear them everywhere. People fear you."

"Good."

Yeah Roose, that's the problem with boots made of human skin. They're inferior to cowhide.

Weirdo.

+.+.+

"You are mistaken. It is not good. No tales were ever told of me. Do you think I would be sitting here if it were otherwise? Your amusements are your own, I will not chide you on that count, but you must be more discreet. A peaceful land, a quiet people. That has always been my rule. Make it yours."

"Is this why you left Lady Dustin and your fat pig wife? So you could come down here and tell me to be quiet?"

Normal relationship these two have.

Your amusements are your own, I will not chide you on that count

What the fuck dude.

+.+.+

"Now is the time to smash him [Stannis Baratheon]. Let me march on Deepwood."

"After you are wed."

Ramsay slammed down his cup, and the dregs of his ale erupted across the tablecloth. "I'm sick of waiting. We have a girl, we have a tree, and we have lords enough to witness. I'll wed her on the morrow, plant a son between her legs, and march before her maiden's blood has dried."

Ramsay is a lot more reckless and impulsive than his show version. What a disaster it would be if Roose were to die.

+.+.+

"You will plant a son in her," Roose Bolton said, "but not here. I've decided you shall wed the girl at Winterfell."

That prospect did not appear to please Lord Ramsay. "I laid waste to Winterfell, or had you forgotten?"

"No, but it appears you have … the ironmen laid waste to Winterfell, and butchered all its people. Theon Turncloak."

I wonder if Ramsay will make this mistake in front of the wrong person.

+.+.+

"Even ruined and broken, Winterfell remains Lady Arya's home. What better place to wed her, bed her, and stake your claim? That is only half of it, however. We would be fools to march on Stannis. Let Stannis march on us. He is too cautious to come to Barrowton … but he must come to Winterfell. His clansmen will not abandon the daughter of their precious Ned to such as you. Stannis must march or lose them … and being the careful commander that he is, he will summon all his friends and allies when he marches. He will summon Arnolf Karstark."

Arnolf Karstark is no friend of Stannis Baratheon's.

Stannis is too cautious to go to Barrowton, but he'll have to go to Winterfell. . . the more formidable castle. Okay George, sure.

+.+.+

The Lord of the Dreadfort glanced at Reek. "Oh, and unchain your pet. I am taking him."

"Taking him? Where? He's mine. You cannot have him."

Roose seemed amused by that. "All you have I gave you. You would do well to remember that, bastard. As for this … Reek … if you have not ruined him beyond redemption, he may yet be of some use to us. Get the keys and remove those chains from him, before you make me rue the day I raped your mother."

Reek saw the way Ramsay's mouth twisted, the spittle glistening between his lips. He feared he might leap the table with his dagger in his hand. Instead he flushed red, turned his pale eyes from his father's paler ones, and went to find the keys. 

Dagger!

+.+.+

But as he knelt to unlock the fetters around Reek's wrists and ankles, he leaned close and whispered, "Tell him nothing and remember every word he says. I'll have you back, no matter what that Dustin bitch may tell you. Who are you?"

I don't remember Theon sharing anything with Ramsay. Do we assume it happened?

+.+.+

Ramsay slapped his face. "Take him," he told his father. "He's not even a man. The way he smells disgusts me."

. . .

+.+.+

He did not understand. "My lord? I said—"

"—my lord, when you should have said m'lord. Your tongue betrays your birth with every word you say. If you want to sound a proper peasant, say it as if you had mud in your mouth, or were too stupid to realize it was two words, not just one."

Roose is bringing Theon to Barbrey Dustin. He will be introduced to Barbrey Dustin as Theon Greyjoy. Everyone knows he's Theon Greyjoy.

I don't understand why he has to use m'lord.

+.+.+

"I knew the first Reek. He stank, though not for want of washing. I have never known a cleaner creature, truth be told. He bathed thrice a day and wore flowers in his hair as if he were a maiden. Once, when my second wife was still alive, he was caught stealing scent from her bedchamber. I had him whipped for that, a dozen lashes. Even his blood smelled wrong. The next year he tried it again. This time he drank the perfume and almost died of it. It made no matter. The smell was something he was born with. A curse, the smallfolk said. The gods had made him stink so that men would know his soul was rotting. My old maester insisted it was a sign of sickness, yet the boy was otherwise as strong as a young bull. No one could stand to be near him, so he slept with the pigs … until the day that Ramsay's mother appeared at my gates to demand that I provide a servant for my bastard, who was growing up wild and unruly. I gave her Reek. It was meant to be amusing, but he and Ramsay became inseparable. I do wonder, though … was it Ramsay who corrupted Reek, or Reek Ramsay?"

Trimethylaminuria.

That moment you realize Ramsay keeps Theon smelly because he's being sentimental.

+.+.+

His lordship glanced at the new Reek with eyes as pale and strange as two white moons. "What was he whispering whilst he unchained you?"

"He … he said …" He said to tell you nothing. The words caught in his throat, and he began to cough and choke.

"Breathe deep. I know what he said. You're to spy on me and keep his secrets." Bolton chuckled. "As if he had secrets. Sour Alyn, Luton, Skinner, and the rest, where does he think they came from? Can he truly believe they are his men?"

I'm not sure why you would volunteer that information to someone you know is spying on you, but okay.

+.+.+

"Smitten?" Bolton laughed. "Did he use that word? Why, the boy has a singer's soul … though if you believe that song, you may well be dimmer than the first Reek. Even the riding part is wrong. I was hunting a fox along the Weeping Water when I chanced upon a mill and saw a young woman washing clothes in the stream. The old miller had gotten himself a new young wife, a girl not half his age. She was a tall, willowy creature, very healthy-looking. Long legs and small firm breasts, like two ripe plums. Pretty, in a common sort of way. The moment that I set eyes on her I wanted her. Such was my due. The maesters will tell you that King Jaehaerys abolished the lord's right to the first night to appease his shrewish queen, but where the old gods rule, old customs linger. The Umbers keep the first night too, deny it as they may. Certain of the mountain clans as well, and on Skagos … well, only heart trees ever see half of what they do on Skagos.

"This miller's marriage had been performed without my leave or knowledge. The man had cheated me. So I had him hanged, and claimed my rights beneath the tree where he was swaying. If truth be told, the wench was hardly worth the rope. The fox escaped as well, and on our way back to the Dreadfort my favorite courser came up lame, so all in all it was a dismal day.

where the old gods rule, old customs linger.

Like what? Blood sacrifice?

+.+.+

"The woman disobeyed me, though. You see what Ramsay is. She made him, her and Reek, always whispering in his ear about his rights. He should have been content to grind corn. Does he truly think that he can ever rule the north?"

He slipped! Get it together, Roose.

+.+.+

"He's not afraid of anyone, m'lord."

"He should be. Fear is what keeps a man alive in this world of treachery and deceit. Even here in Barrowton the crows are circling, waiting to feast upon our flesh. The Cerwyns and the Tallharts are not to be relied on, my fat friend Lord Wyman plots betrayal, and Whoresbane … the Umbers may seem simple, but they are not without a certain low cunning. Ramsay should fear them all, as I do. The next time you see him, tell him that."

All of these names go to Team Stark.

+.+.+

"He is your only son."

"For the moment. I had another, once. Domeric. A quiet boy, but most accomplished. He served four years as Lady Dustin's page, and three in the Vale as a squire to Lord Redfort. He played the high harp, read histories, and rode like the wind. Horses … the boy was mad for horses, Lady Dustin will tell you. Not even Lord Rickard's daughter could outrace him, and that one was half a horse herself. Redfort said he showed great promise in the lists. A great jouster must be a great horseman first."

I was not expecting to find more Knight of the Laughing Tree evidence in a Theon ADWD chapter.

+.+.+

"Ramsay killed him. A sickness of the bowels, Maester Uthor says, but I say poison. In the Vale, Domeric had enjoyed the company of Redfort's sons. He wanted a brother by his side, so he rode up the Weeping Water to seek my bastard out. I forbade it, but Domeric was a man grown and thought that he knew better than his father. Now his bones lie beneath the Dreadfort with the bones of his brothers, who died still in the cradle, and I am left with Ramsay. Tell me, my lord … if the kinslayer is accursed, what is a father to do when one son slays another?"

Anything other than whatever it is you're doing.

+.+.+

He could be wrong. Brothers die sometimes, it does not mean that they were killed. My brothers died, and I never killed them. 

Which brothers?

The old gods, he thought. They know me. They know my name. I was Theon of House Greyjoy. I was a ward of Eddard Stark, a friend and brother to his children. - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

+.+.+

"My lord has a new wife to give him sons."

"And won't my bastard love that? Lady Walda is a Frey, and she has a fertile feel to her. I have become oddly fond of my fat little wife. The two before her never made a sound in bed, but this one squeals and shudders. I find that quite endearing. If she pops out sons the way she pops in tarts, the Dreadfort will soon be overrun with Boltons. Ramsay will kill them all, of course. That's for the best. I will not live long enough to see new sons to manhood, and boy lords are the bane of any House. Walda will grieve to see them die, though."

He's lying to the spy. What's the point of marrying a fertile woman if you don't care if your sons survive?

Too bad he already goofed.

Does he truly think that he can ever rule the north?

+.+.+

"M'lord. If I might ask … why did you want me? I'm no use to anyone, I'm not even a man, I'm broken, and … the smell …"

. . .

+.+.+

"A bath and change of clothes will make you smell sweeter."

"A bath?" Reek felt a clenching in his guts. "I … I would sooner not, m'lord. Please. I have … wounds, I … and these clothes, Lord Ramsay gave them to me, he … he said that I was never to take them off, save at his command …"

"You are wearing rags," Lord Bolton said, quite patiently. "Filthy things, torn and stained and stinking of blood and urine. And thin. You must be cold. We'll put you in lambswool, soft and warm. Perhaps a fur-lined cloak. Would you like that?"

"No." He could not let them take the clothes Lord Ramsay gave him. He could not let them see him.

Why don't you want to be naked?

+.+.+

Some part of him was screaming, This is a trap, he is playing with you, the son is just the shadow of the father. Lord Ramsay played with his hopes all the time. "What … what do you owe me, m'lord?"

"The north. The Starks were done and doomed the night that you took Winterfell." He waved a pale hand, dismissive. "All this is only squabbling over spoils."

Thanks for that, Theon.

+.+.+

As he climbed a wide flight of wooden steps to the hall, Reek's legs began to shake. He had to stop to steady them, staring up at the grassy slopes of the Great Barrow. Some claimed it was the grave of the First King, who had led the First Men to Westeros. Others argued that it must be some King of the Giants who was buried there, to account for its size. A few had even been known to say it was no barrow, just a hill, but if so it was a lonely hill, for most of the barrowlands were flat and windswept.

Is this worldbuilding or important?

+.+.+

"He has been with Ramsay. Lady Barbrey, allow me to present the rightful Lord of the Iron Islands, Theon of House Greyjoy."

[...]

"What did your bastard do to him?"

"Removed some skin, I would imagine. A few small parts. Nothing too essential."

I wouldn't be too sure of that.

+.+.+

"Is he mad?"

"He may be. Does it matter?"

Reek could hear no more. "Please, m'lord, m'lady, there's been some mistake." He fell to his knees, trembling like a leaf in a winter storm, tears streaming down his ravaged cheeks. "I'm not him, I'm not the turncloak, he died at Winterfell. My name is Reek." He had to remember his name. "It rhymes with freak."

Seems like it.

Final thoughts:

TEAM HOUSE STARK

House Cerwyn & House Tallhart

The Cerwyns and the Tallharts are not to be relied on - Reek III, ADWD

House Glover

Lord Stannis has taken Deepwood Motte from the ironmen and restored it to House Glover. - Reek III, ADWD

First Flints, Wull, Norrey, Liddle, Burleys, Harclays, Knotts

"How many clans are you speaking of?"

"Two score, small and large. Flint, Wull, Norrey, Liddle … win Old Flint and Big Bucket, the rest will follow." - Jon IV, ADWD

House Locke

"The maid tells it true," declared a stocky man in white and purple, whose cloak was fastened with a pair of crossed bronze keys. "Roose Bolton's cold and cunning, aye, but a man can deal with Roose. We've all known worse. But this bastard son of his … they say he's mad and cruel, a monster." - Davos III, ADWD

x

Farther down the table Wyman Manderly sat wolfing down sausages and boiled eggs, whilst old Lord Locke beside him spooned gruel into his toothless mouth. - Theon I, ADWD

House Manderly

The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer's farce is almost done.  - Davos IV, ADWD

House Mormont

Stannis read from the letter. "Bear Island knows no king but the King in the North, whose name is STARK. A girl of ten, you say, and she presumes to scold her lawful king." - Jon I, ADWD

House Reed

We don't need evidence.

House Umber

"A fine plan if what you want is every hand in the north raised against you. Half is more than none. The Umbers have no love for the Boltons. If Whoresbane has joined the Bastard, it can only be because the Lannisters hold the Greatjon captive." - Jon IV, ADWD

x

The Cerwyns and the Tallharts are not to be relied on, my fat friend Lord Wyman plots betrayal, and Whoresbane … the Umbers may seem simple, but they are not without a certain low cunning. - Reek III, ADWD

Alys Karstark & House Thenn

TEAM HOUSE BOLTON

House Karstark

Because Arnolf Karstark awaits only a sign from Lord Bolton before he turns his cloak, thought Theon, as other lords began to shout out counsel. - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

House Ryswell

"The Ryswells and Dustins are tied to House Bolton by marriage," Jon informed him. - Jon IV, ADWD

House Hornwood

House Lannister

House Frey

X FACTOR

Queen in the North Barbrey Dustin of House Dustin

"Unlikely. And those boots would come dear. They would cost us Barrowton, House Dustin, and the Ryswells." Roose Bolton seated himself across the table from his son. "Barbrey Dustin is my second wife's younger sister, Rodrik Ryswell's daughter, sister to Roger, Rickard, and mine own namesake, Roose, cousin to the other Ryswells. She was fond of my late son and suspects you of having some part in his demise. Lady Barbrey is a woman who knows how to nurse a grievance. Be grateful for that. Barrowton is staunch for Bolton largely because she still holds Ned Stark to blame for her husband's death." - Reek III, ADWD

I will continue to update as we go.

Expect me to change my mind on Queen in the North Barbrey Dustin half a dozen times.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #reek iii #theon iii

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: Where the Crossroads Meet, Part IV

Part 1 | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Fandom: The Great Wall

Ships: Pero Tovar x you/reader (cishet female)

Tags/warnings (chapter specific): PiV sex (unprotected, cotus interruptus but you know, it doesn't work). Nothing kinky.

Words: 2,910

Summary: Defying the bitter cold of winter, Pero visits you again. In the warm safety of your cottage you find each other.

A/N: this is the last part. Thank you for coming on this journey with me. (To be continued...?)

The wind is howling around the house and there is a hint of a draft coming from the window despite the closed shutters. You feel the chill and glance at the window, frowning as you add checking the window from the outside the following day to the never-ending list of chores.

You sit by the table, at the end closest to the stove where a fire burns day and night in the dead of this cold winter. Knitting mittens for yourself, you enjoy the quiet and stillness. It’s warm indoors despite the blizzard outside, and you keep an eye on the lit candles. Not only a fire hazard, candles also do not grow on trees. You follow your grandmother’s rule of one burning one length of candle a night. After that, it’s bedtime. You burn with a low flame in the wintertime, sleep long nights to keep warm and preserve energy. Like the seeds that you know are awaiting their time in the frozen ground underneath the snow, you spend the winter months burrowed in your cottage, making excursions only to the cowshed and the village if you must and are able to. You mend clothes and think long thoughts. You knit socks and shawls and sing the songs your grandmother used to sing for you: about the water spirit who came to the king to ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage, about the queen who in jealousy tried to kill the king’s mistress but failed and was left alone while the king and his mistress travelled the world, about the mountain trolls luring a young man to marry one of their girls so that they can have children of human blood. Every single word is etched permanently into your brain, as is each note.

The sound of three beats to the door makes you jump, before you quickly grab a knitting needle not being used and get up to walk to the barred door.

“Who is it?” you call, trying to listen for an answer that does not come. Carefully, you open the little hatch in the door and peek out.

The cold wind immediately brings snow through the opening, and you shiver from the chill as you gaze on the tall figure, wrapped in furs, standing outside. You recognize the sharp stare of a scarred eye beneath the layers.

“Come in from the cold!”

You close the hatch, unbar the door, and open it wide. Pero Tovar steps in, face covered by a fur hat and the collar of his coat pulled up to his nose. He carries a big backpack that he lets down with a muffled groan as soon as he is across the threshold, and then he pulls off his hat and shrugs off the fur mantle, pulls down his collar, and turns his morose face to you.

You help him shed his many layers of soaked, cold clothes. Slowly, you unbuckle the many fastenings in the front of his coat and when you slide the coat off his shoulders he sighs audibly.

“You look well,” he says in a low murmur.

“I am well. And you?”

He only nods. Nothing in his demeanour suggests he is feeling anything but surly, but you’ve learned to read the subtle little signs: the way his gaze seeks yours, the slight parting of his lips when your hand brushes over his.

His lips, cracked from the cold yet full and surprisingly soft despite hard line of his jaw. You imagine that you can taste him, the voracious danger of him, all the things that you have never seen or lived, steel and blood and adventure.

To take your mind off physical pleasure, you hang his wet clothes to dry and gesture for him to take a seat by the table. You turn to the pantry and take out salt meat, a cooked egg that was left over from supper, bread, butter, and cheese. You serve him a mug of heated redcurrant juice and sit down on the other side of the table with one of the last apples stored since autumn. You peel it evenly before slicing it neatly, handing Pero half of the slices while you yourself eat the rest.

He eats in silence, focused on his plate, glancing up every now and then to look at you. That is new: he never did that before. You busy yourself with your knitting but meet his gaze each time he looks at you. When he has finished his meal, he leans back with a satisfied sigh.

“Thank you. Best meal I had in a long time.”

“I’m glad,” you smile at him, happy to have been able to still his hunger with what little you have. You rise and come around the table. Pero puts his hand briefly over yours as you reach for his plate. A quick stroke of his thumb over the back of your hand lets you know the extent of his gratitude before he lets go.

You put a few more logs on the fire to warm up water, then don your fur cloak.

“I’ll check on the animals for the night.”

The cold slaps you in the face and you wrap the cloak tightly around you as you hurry to the cowshed. The cows greet you in their usual, steadfast way when you step into the warmth of their shelter. You inhale the sharp smell of animal; their big bodies, their dung and urine, their food… Those are the heartening, safe smells of your childhood, of your whole life.

You see to it that the animals are contented. The sheep get a little more oat to eat, the cows get scratches between the horns. You, in turn, get your palms licked by big, affectionate tongues. You speak to them in a low voice, telling them about Pero’s visit, of the desire fluttering in your belly. The cows listen and when your heart has been poured out, you feel better for it and return to your cottage.

You find Pero stripped down to his breeches and bowed over the wash basin, splashing warm water into his face and neck. Unlike last time, however, you do not shy away but instead come up behind him and lean your forehead to his naked back. You inhale the smell of him; leather with a hint of metal from his chainmail, sweat, campfires, snowy roads. A drop of water runs down his spine and you catch it on your finger before tracing the bumps of his spine up to his neck, where your hand forms a warm cup over tired muscles. His breath catches but he does not move. You run your hand down his shoulder and arm, reaching his hand in the basin of warm water. The washcloth is there and you take it and wring it, one-handedly, before sliding it up his arm, retracing the journey of your hand, now dragging the cloth along with you.

You touch a new scar below his right shoulder blade before painting it with warm, herb-scented water. Your fingers trail to another scar, much older, and lean forward to kiss it softly. His shoulders sink a little as he relaxes more and more. Neither one of you speaks as you drag the cloth over the broad expanse of his back, occasionally kissing one mark or another. The scent of the herbal water mixes with the smells of firewood and smoke, reminding you of summer even now, in the dead of winter.

When you are finished, you put the cloth in the basin. Pero turns around. Characteristically silent, he raises his hand to your face. You let him cradle your cheek, and lean into the rough, warm cup of his palm. A deep sigh escapes you when you feel yourself dissolve into his touch.

The next moment, his lips are on yours and he is kissing you like he has spent every day since the last time he saw you longing to kiss you. Both of you cling to each other, gasps travelling from mouth to mouth as each kiss ends with the beginning of a new one. Pero’s hands clasp your waist before sliding down to your bottom. Your body knows what to do; you raise a leg, Pero immediately hooking his arm around your thigh, and then he lifts you up. He squeezes your buttocks in his hands as he carries you into the bedchamber, and not once do your lips part.

He puts you down next to the bed and pulls at the lacing of your bodice, swearing under his breath when it takes him too long. He takes a string and pulls, and the neckline of your shirt widens and bares your shoulders. You give him a hand, your own fingers clumsy with impatience and soon, the bodice is discarded on the floor and he’s pawing your plump breasts through the linen shirt. Your nipples knot to rock hard pebbles and your skin feels like it is on fire; all of you is on fire, especially the deepest pit of your stomach. The ache is red hot and only one thing can soothe it. You pull eagerly at his belt. Pero’s breeches open and you hitch up your skirts and lie down on the bed behind you, pulling him in between your legs. A grunted curse slips him when he fights to get off your undergarments but as soon as he has the apex of your thighs naked before him, he pulls himself out of his breeches.

The sight of him makes your eyes widen. You are not completely inexperienced in the ways of physical love, but you also have not had many lovers. Out of all of them, Pero is by far the most well-endowed.

You have no time to process the size before it splits you open. You feel it along the base of your spine, an icy burn that makes you gasp

oh! oh! yes!

and he is inside you, filling you up and stretching you out, moving with a painful urgency he can scarcely hold back. Your nails sink into his shoulders, into muscle and flesh, conjuring groans from him. Your moans grow louder for every thrust, for every scrape of his moustache and teeth along your jaw and neck, for every small bite to your breasts. He straightens his back, holding onto the back of your knees, and you wail when he thrusts into you. It hurts, but in a terrifyingly good way, a way you have dreamed of during the increasingly long nights of autumn and winter when you have gone to your lonely bed and pleasured yourself. You even invited another traveller into your bed to still your longing. He served his purpose but did not light your fire like Pero does.

Pero, whose brows now draw together in concentration as he brushes aside your skirts to get a better view of the spot where you are joined.

“How well you take me, hermosa,” he grunts, and it makes you claw at the sheets. You whimper at the delicious charge of his cock in your quivering cunt, your soaked softness still stretching almost to the verge of pain with his girth.

Pero sinks down over you while bucking erratically into you, and you feel the pulses of his cock as he quickly retreats, his seed spurting onto your slick folds as he groans. He rests his face against the crook of your neck and regains his breath before kissing your heated skin.

“This is what I mean about not being gentle,” he murmurs. “Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head no. No, he did not hurt you but only made you burn more brightly. You have not had release and need him to bring you to the brink of divine destruction.

Pero is removing his clothes and when you find your footing on the cold floor, he pushes you back against the bed.

“I want you again.”

“I have to check the fire,” you whisper, and he lets you straighten out your clothing – for warmth, not for modesty – and tiptoe to the kitchen. You feed the fire with more wood, barely feeling the heat against your own fevered skin. You blow out the precious candles made from sheep’s fat in the autumn before returning to the bedchamber, bringing only one lit candle with you for the chair next to the bed.

“Woman,” Pero tells you darkly as you strip, one short word to let you know he thinks you’re being too slow. As soon as you are naked, he pulls you to him, throwing the covers over both of you in the process, and the bed creaks when you make him turn onto his back so that you can straddle his hips. The chilly air hits your already hard nipples when you sit upright, the covers sliding down your back. Your skin is riddled with goose flesh and in the faint light of the single candle, you see Pero’s black eyes fixed on your breasts.

“Touch me,” you ask, each syllable so loud in the dead silence of winter. Pero’s callused hands cover your breasts immediately, thumbs brushing over nipples, fingers sinking into the soft flesh. You have wanted this since his visit in the most colourful days of autumn and now that it is happening, you are happy it is the dead of winter when the night is long.

He grows hard again, his cock rising against the inside of your thigh in search of your entrance. A low hiss escapes him when you touch the shaft, slick with your arousal. Your cunt starts to weep at the prospect of being ravaged again and the pent-up lust puts you in a hurry. You tease him until he is rock hard, then lead him into you. Slowly, you sink down on him, whimpering with how completely he fills you. His thigh muscles are flexed tightly underneath you and his breaths come out in shallow huffs. You place your hands on his chest, embossments in the skin telling your fingertips where there are scars, and exhale as your cunt swallows the last of him.

“Ride it,” Pero asks you, still fondling your breasts. “Ride it empty.”

You rock your hips, finding your rhythm, your pleasure, lean into his big hands, your gasps and the whimpers of the old bedframe the only sounds in the dark, Pero’s grunts occasionally punctuating them. You find that one spot inside you, the one that makes you dig your short fingernails into Pero’s chest as you hit it over and over and over, faster and faster and –

Your body is sending out contradicting impulses, flight or fight, let go and fall or hold tight and climb. It’s agonizing and you want to feel all of it, you force yourself to feel it all, and you know that this is where you need just a little more to fall. Pero has been holding your breasts all the time but now you pull one of his hands free and shove it down to where you are joined. He touches your throbbing nub and that’s all it takes for your cunt to pulsate, your body to shudder, and your back to arch as your head is thrown back with a cry. You clasp at him, desperately holding on as wave after wave drown you, pulling you under and onto Pero’s chest. His breath is hot against your skin when he thrusts up into you, drawing another wail from you as he selfishly chases his own release with jab after jab into your core. His seed splatters onto your skin when he pulls out with a bitten back curse, and you rest your head against his shoulder, your heart beating fast against his.

His is a warmth that keeps you up in the misery of midwinter. You fall asleep, you wake up and couple again. You sleep tightly in Pero’s embrace and until his cock finds its way into your slick cunt once more. You sleep some more but must straddle him again when you wake up. The dark gives way for grey light when you fall apart as he ruts into you from behind, like an animal. He spills his seed on you, not in you, and you wonder if he is wise from some earlier mishap. Very few words are exchanged between you except for his praise and your encouragement, but his sweet little nicknames for you speak more than long recitals of whatever feelings he may have.

Pero leaves after breakfast the next morning. You provide him with what you can spare and send him off. But this time you see in his eyes that he will think of you until he sees you again. It is a subtle shift in his glare: the smoothening of a line towards his temples, his brows relaxing slightly. The scar over his eyes seems less of a warning of his lethal capabilities and more like the result of a daring move attempted by a careless, much younger man.

His fingers touch yours when he accepts the provisions from you, and you know that you want him to return.

“You know where to find me,” you tell him. He nods almost imperceptibly.

“Left where the crossroads meet.”

“To the north,” you smile.

He does not kiss you, you do not say farewell.

#my fic #the great wall fanfic #pero tovar #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x reader

[snowbellewells]

Birthday Fic Completed: “We Were Always Meant to Find You”

{One Shot; Post s6 Happy Beginning; CS Future Family Fluff}

Also available on AO3, if that is your preference

by: @snowbellewells​

She was already waiting at the counter, arms crossed expectantly, a knowing look on her face, when the little bell hanging over the door of her diner jangled insistently to announce the first arrivals. After that, it stayed open for some minutes as more and more people poured in like a flood. Possibly the whole town, Granny thought wryly, shaking her head in affectionate wonder as the deluge continued and the murmur of joined, overlapping conversations rose to a dull roar.

She turned and shot a warning look through the front line window at her fry cook, who was taking in the crowd with wide-eyed trepidation. The widow Lucas mimed gathering a deep breath and getting ready for action, trying to calm him. Thank goodness she’d thought far enough ahead to call in some extra wait staff and cooks in anticipation of this gathering. She mentally patted herself on the back for that bit of foresight, ruefully acknowledging that she had no one who could waitress as quickly and efficiently as Ruby once did, even as her granddaughter had teased, flirted, and made it look like a lark all at the same time.

The older woman shook herself from that rather melancholy train of thought before it could travel much further. It was hardly the time for lollygagging and dwelling on missed family members who were realms away and happy there. Granny picked up her order pad and gave a last glance around behind the counter to be certain they were as ready as possible for the onslaught.

As the bell over the entry rang out once more, she smiled fondly to see Snow, Charming, and their little boy arriving with smiles on their faces. They wore the mantle of de facto leadership easily, even in this modern world where their standing as Princess and her Prince went mostly unacknowledged. Despite their casual manner and unpretentious bearing, many of the townsfolk gathered in Storybrooke’s favored eatery turned and looked to them expectantly. Snow White, rightful heir to the throne of Misthaven and beloved only child of King Leopold and Queen Ava, had never demanded honor or praise from those who would have been her subjects in another life. She simply inspired their loyalty with her sweetness, her goodness, and all that she was.

Said monarch was beaming from ear-to-ear as her small family paused just inside the diner, quite possibly as brightly as the widow Lucas had ever observed. A pink, happy flush colored Snow’s usually fair cheeks prettily, and her eyes sparkled impishly, even glinting with what Granny astutely observed were unshed tears of joy. She was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she nudged Charming to speak to their gathered friends and neighbors.

The shepherd prince turned deputy sheriff raised his voice to be heard above the low murmurs and shufflings of such a crowd. “Thank you all for coming!” he greeted with a genuine, winning grin. “It means the world to Snow and I that you’ve

come here to support our family on such a special occasion. That you’ve extended your kindness and acceptance to our daughter and her family as well, is something we will never forget. Emma may not always know how to express it, but I do know that she is grateful. Now, they were right behind us when we left the courthouse, so if we mean to surprise them, we’d better get ready! They should be here any minute!”

That announcement sent the crowd into a flurry of activity, rearranging themselves to seem casual and unconcerned; not at all as if they were breathlessly awaiting the Savior and her small family - now officially one member larger - to sing and welcome and celebrate them to the point of embarrassment. Food and drink orders, seating preferences, and side conversations were forgotten for the moment as all the gathered townsfolk waited with held breath while trying to seem as if they weren’t. 

From her vantage point by the old and battered but sturdy cash register, the Widow Lucas could already envision the very way Emma Swan’s eyes would drop to her boots. She would be friendly and gracious, but a bit awkwardly brusque too. After all this time in Storybrooke, she still wasn’t fond of too much attention. The Captain, of course, as Granny fondly referred to him, would try to follow his lovely wife’s lead, but the tips of his rather notably pointed ears would be red, secretly pleased with the notice and care shown to his newest little love. Henry’s eyes would widen in joy and excitement, Granny knew, though he would have expected no less of them all, his believer’s heart optimistically anticipating the best of others and then often inspiring it. Young Hope would be holding court from the moment she realized everyone was there for her family. If ever there were a wee lass born to be royalty, Granny mused, it was that one. With every bit of her mother - and grandmother’s - beauty and bravery, and her father’s audacity and puckish charm, Hope Jones was irresistible to everyone she encountered.

Sure enough, soon through the diner’s large front windows,  Emma and Killian could be seen leading Henry, Hope, and their newly adopted sister down the sidewalk along Main Street. The last few whispers and scuffles dropped off as family and friends watched, hoping to make the Savior’s family joyously welcome with their little surprise, in a manner they would never forget.

Once again, the bell over the diner’s entrance sounded its tinny chime, and Killian Jones held it open gallantly as his brood tromped through. Emma led the way, holding onto Hope’s chubby toddler hand, as the little sprite wouldn’t hesitate to dart off at a run towards anyone she knew even slightly or anything that caught her interest. Henry brought up the rear, with the sister who had joined their number before him. Dutiful eldest child that he was, Henry was clearly trying to make sure she didn’t feel lost or overwhelmed, but Granny noticed that the young man still cut his eyes toward his stepdad for direction as the little girl stopped on the threshold as though frozen - silent and uncertain. 

To his credit, whatever he might be feeling, Captain Jones didn’t allow himself to appear fazed by the child’s hesitance, merely nodding in assurance to Henry and turning to see to his daughter himself. 

However, before he could say or do anything, the door barely closed behind him, there was a loud shout of “Congratulations! Surprise!” accompanied by hoots and hollers enough to rattle the roof of the old building. The gathered townsfolk - who had seemed preoccupied and settled in their own affairs until that moment - were all now staring at the Swan-Jones family and closing in as they jostled forward to meet the new addition and make her welcome.

Apparently much too close for comfort, Granny saw with anxious concern. The pretty little wisp of a blonde with striking hazel eyes let out a cry of distress and turned on instinct to flee back out the door, only to run smack into Killian’s side. Upon finding her escape route blocked, she attempted to hide herself by burying her face against his denim clad hip. 

Killian’s brow furrowed then with concern as his hands rested on the child’s back, rubbing soothing circles as he murmured, “There now, Sweetheart. No need to fear. These folks merely want to say hello to you.” Looking up, he offered David, Snow, and others of the gathered assembly an awkward shrug of the shoulders and half-smile that begged their understanding and patience. To their credit, many had already begun to move back and disperse to their own tables upon seeing the little girl’s overwhelmed reaction. Archie- bless his sensitive soul- and Belle began to head off the rest, ushering them elsewhere for the time being.

Seeing that Emma, Henry, and Hope had grabbed a booth against the wall near the back hallway and were waiting for them, Killian carefully guided his daughter along with him, even as she remained glued to his leg and barely shuffled along with him as he half-led and half-carried her. Gently, once they reached their table, Killian peeled her from his side to urge her onto the bench seat next to Henry, assuring her that he would be right behind her.

Granny herself moved from behind the counter and came over to take their orders. At this point, she was admittedly curious, too - wanting to meet the newest little princess and personally let her know she was very much welcomed to their odd but special little town. Standing at the end of the table, she attempted to lighten her normally rather intimidating expression, offering what she hoped was a warm and genuine ‘grandmotherly’ smile, speaking in a softer voice than usual as she waited with order pad and pencil in hand. “Hello there, Jones family,” she greeted with a twinkle in her eyes behind her half-spectacles, as she looked into each of their faces in turn. “What would you folks like to eat?”

To no one’s surprise, Emma Swan ordered a grilled cheese and onion rings.

“Ring rings!” Hope echoed in a decisive chirp, though they all knew she didn't like onions, and was instead ordering her own special mozzarella sticks Granny had found, which were circular and allowed the toddler to feel like she was having just what her mom did.

Granny nodded, jotting the order down, though she could have repeated back Emma and Hope’s orders by heart even before they were placed. 

Henry considered for a moment before ordering chicken strips and French fries with apple pie a la mode for dessert. He smiled encouragingly at the sister beside him and emphasized how delicious the meal was before handing the menu back to Granny Lucas politely.

When no further orders were given to her for several long moments, Granny shifted on her feet, not wanting to rush them, but not wanting to linger awkwardly either.

“I’ll have the lemon tilapia with baked potato, Lady Lucas,” Killian broke the lengthy pause with a wink in her direction, when it became clear he was going to have to move things along. “And this lovely lass here is our daughter, Helen. I don’t believe you’ve yet had the pleasure of making her acquaintance.”

The youngster dutifully looked up and met Granny’s eye, but she still didn’t utter a word.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dear,” Granny tried as gently as possible, giving Helen - who appeared to be about seven or eight, of slight build and with a fair, heart-shaped face - a comforting smile. “You’re very much welcome here at the Diner. You can call me Granny - everyone else does. I hope you’ll come to love it here in Storybrooke.”

Emma offered her a grateful expression before glancing across the table at her second daughter and asking, “So, Helen, what do you want to try? Does anything look good to you?”

Wide hazel eyes stared back at the Savior with a frightened, deer-in-the-headlights expression. She shook her head vigorously, curls flying, while still not making a sound.

Tilting her head, Emma studied the child for a moment as Granny waited quietly, trying as much as possible to remain unobtrusive and not add to the little girl’s discomfort. After a moment, some sort of understanding dawned on their fearless Sheriff’s face. If pressed, Granny would venture to call it empathetic, knowing, and more than a bit lost and sad. A subtle glance passed over the table between husband and wife before Emma nodded decisively and turned back to Granny with fierce resolve and a film of moisture shimmering in her eyes that neither of them acknowledged. 

“How about a breaded chicken patty sandwich, a cheeseburger, an order of macaroni and cheese, some tater tots, a brownie, and one of your monster peanut butter cookies?” 

The Widow Lucas didn’t comment, completely understanding what the younger woman was doing - ordering a variety of kid-friendly options so she could learn what Helen liked. Hope chortled merrily, exclaiming loudly in her childlike innocence, “That’s a lot of food, Mama! Is Helen extra-hungry?”

Across the table, poor Helen Jones’ worried eyes popped even wider, as if panicked that she might somehow be blamed for the excess. Almost as though she had forgotten the silence she was keeping until that moment, she blurted out quickly, “No! I’m not! I didn’t ask for that - I promise I didn’t!”

Granny’s own heart broke for the child’s needless fear and the deprivation it was suddenly clear she had suffered. She wasn’t sure how the Joneses would calm Helen and appease Hope in the middle of a crowded restaurant full of nosey and overly involved acquaintances. All the same, it wasn’t her business beyond bringing that sweet little girl the best food she had ever tasted, and she hustled off to do just that.

Once their little family was alone again, tears welled even more certainly in Emma’s eyes. They had known, of course, a fair bit of what Helen had been through, and had already witnessed some of her issues and insecurities in the visits they’d had with her throughout the adoption process. But just now, she ached to make all of that disappear. She could only hope that in time they would manage to show her she didn’t need to be afraid of them. That she was home now.

Hope was still clamoring for her attention, and Helen was now once again pressed into Killian’s side, as if hoping to somehow disappear behind his larger frame where no one else could see her. Catching Killian’s eye, silent decisions were again made between pirate and princess. Killian nodded his understanding, and Emma stood with their youngest to take her to the ladies room for a moment where they could talk, and left her two boys with Helen, trusting they’d find the right way to soothe her.

When it was just the three of them at the table, Killian slowly pulled back from his daughter enough to look her in the eye. He held her attention steadily and promised her that she was not in any trouble, she did nothing wrong, and no one was upset with her. “Take a deep breath, Helen, love,” he coaxed. “That’s it, just like that. Try another one, Lass. There you are.”

The entire time, his metal appendage lightly ran over her shoulders, rubbing a soothing pattern he hoped would further ease her anxiety. Like Emma, he had known - her overly slight appearance and the way she would barely ask for even the smallest items - that Helen had faced not only deprivations, but harsh punishments as well. But he’d still been taken aback at the panic that overtook his daughter right before their eyes. Even as he shot Henry a concerned look across the space between them over Helen’s head, he could feel the rage he had not known in some time - in truth, not since his stint as a Dark One - rise inside him at any who would have mistreated and wounded such a precious, innocent child. Though for years now the vengeful captain had been put away, and he had tried with all his might to curb the violent tendencies he’d once allowed free rein, for a flicker of a moment, Killian yearned to turn the sharp point of his hook on the perpetrators of Helen’s current trauma.

Fighting down the intensity of such a reaction, he swallowed back more words he feared might come out harshly in his anger and scare the child further. He would not speak until he could wrangle his emotions back under control.

In the meantime, Henry leaned over tentatively, putting himself in his new sibling’s eyeline and speaking up, hoping maybe he could help. Surely, a story could cheer her up? He didn’t like to dwell on it too often, but when he had been just a bit older than Helen was now, he’d felt so alone. Like no one believed him, no one was on his side, and half afraid he was as crazy as his own adoptive mother had wanted him to think. When the storybook had come to him, the comfort those tales had given him was impossible to measure. In those stories, he had found family, inspiration, courage, and comfort, and it led him down the path to the life he lived now, one happier than he could have pictured back then, when he had caught a bus to Boston in search of his birth mother - the Savior who could rescue them all.

“Hey, hey, listen,” he urged, encouraged to see that Helen turned those bright, curious eyes of hers on him willingly, obviously wanting to hear what he would say in spite of herself. “You don’t have to worry, alright? Mom and Dad aren’t looking to punish you or blame you for something. They want you to have what you need to be happy… all of us do. You fit right into this family. All of us at one time or another have been lonely and hurt and left out - well, maybe not Hope, but that’s because she was with us from the start. The rest of us had to find each other, just like you’ve found us.”

Helen didn’t speak, but she blinked up at her new big brother. Her frantic breathing slowed to normal and her flurried heartbeat calmed down as he spoke. It wasn’t hard to see that she was hanging on Henry’s every word, whether or not she offered an audible response.

Henry’s tentative smile grew easily, gaining confidence that she was interested, and his whole face seemed to glow with eager excitement as he carried on. “You know what helped me a lot when I was your age, and I felt all by myself and scared?” he asked her.

Right on cue, Helen shook her head ‘no’, but gazed up at him raptly, clearly waiting to hear Henry’s suggestion. Though she hardly knew yet that it was entirely possible in this new hometown of hers, the way she looked at him with such guileless faith made it seem as if she were expecting his magical solution for her problem.

Killian remained quiet, watching the sweet scene unfold without interruption. The maelstrom of emotion which had been churning inside him at the sight of his daughter’s fear subsided, as his chest swelled with pride instead. Watching Emma’s son, the young man he loved as his very own, showing such care and ingenuity in this moment, weaving a tale that would rival any sailor’s yarn to beguile his shy, unsure sibling, nearly melted him in a way he would be hard-pressed to disguise. He left his arm wrapped lightly over Helen’s shoulder and allowed her to lean back against him, cuddled into his side, but otherwise he held his breath, attempting to remain unobtrusive as he saw her beginning to settle comfortably.

“Did you know there’s a story about a famous Helen, who was a queen?” Henry continued, widening his eyes for extra emphasis.

So much had her upset eased, that Helen’s eyes lit up with intrigue at her brother’s words, and she shook her in head amazement, breathing out a soft, “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Henry affirmed, a pleased grin on his face at the way her reserve was lessening and her interest caught.

“Aye, little lass, there surely was,” Killian added in, his voice still hoarse with the rasp of leftover emotion, but calm once more. “Even when me crew and I sailed the many seas of various realms, we heard of her. It was said she was so beautiful that her face launched a thousand ships when she was stolen from her kingdom by the man who loved her. A war was waged for her return.”

Henry quirked an eyebrow at his stepdad, purposefully baiting the pirate with a teasing look he could have learned from no one else. “So now you want to tell it?” he goaded playfully, to which Killian could only huff and shake his head, good natured smile on his own face as Henry retook control of the myth of foolish Prince Paris of Sparta, blinded to the calamity he brought down upon his country, so besotted was he with the beautiful Helen of Troy.

Glancing up from the little tableau beside him, Killian’s eyes landed upon his wife, standing in the open passageway into the hall and facilities of the diner. She had Hope in her arms, their youngest laying her head on Emma’s shoulder mildly, as she watched her son and other daughter bonding happily, despite the rocky start. Though the jade of Emma’s eyes was rather glassy with unshed tears, a radiant smile bloomed on her face, one which Killian returned easily. Thank goodness he had her, and she, him. Neither of them must figure out how to parent the three young lives they had been blessed with on their own. Each of them had an anchor in the other when faced with turbulent waters.

It was just as Henry finished his tale, to Helen’s enthralled approval, that Granny bustled back over to their table, tray laden with their dinner order. “Here we are, dinner for the Jones family, as ordered!” she announced with a bit of a flourish.

Hope began to squirm once more in Emma’s hold the moment she saw Granny’s approach, restful pause at an end. Emma snapped from her reverie watching the rest of their little family to place Hope on her own two feet, and the toddler was off, already clambering into her papa’s lap by the time Granny and Emma both reached the booth.

“Thank you,” Emma told the diner’s proprietress sincerely, a grateful smile on her face as she met the older woman’s eye. Granny smiled and nodded her understanding. Between the two of them, it took just seconds to unload the plates of food onto the table, Killian having enough to occupy hand and hook with his arms full of a wriggling four-year-old and trying to make sure that Helen, finally seeming comfortable and at ease beside him, wasn’t struck by an exuberantly flailing hand or flying elbow.

“It’s my pleasure,” Granny assured, watching the youngsters reach for their various dishes almost wistfully for a moment. “I hope you all enjoy, and let me know if you need anything else.”

No one spoke for a few minutes, as each person around the table began to add condiments to their food where they saw fit and prepared to dig in. Helen, as was becoming usual, didn’t ask for anything or make any comment, but she too seemed to accept that the multiple options Emma had ordered were for her, and she had pulled the chicken patty sandwich and macaroni closer with an eager look in spite of her earlier hesitance.

The quiet munching and hums of enjoyment were broken by Hope a few minutes later. She leaned over from where she was devouring her “rings” to pat Helen on the shoulder and get her attention. The tyke’s eyes were as open and enchanting as her papa’s, and she gazed at her newly gained big sister with a sweet, ingratiating smile. When Helen met her waiting expression, Hope babbled simply, “Sorry I made you feel bad, Sissy. You can have whatever you want. I wuv you.”

Then, without hesitation, she swung forward, nearly dumping herself from Killian’s lap until he quickly righted his hold, and hugged Helen tightly, catching them all by surprise with her exuberant affection.

Yet, to the rest of the family’s happy surprise, Helen didn’t startle or pull away. Instead she gently accepted Hope’s hug as she did the apology and even tentatively returned her sister’s embrace. When Helen brought her hand up to pat Hope’s arm, as if to let her know everything was fine, Hope dipped her head to plant a smacking kiss - playful and slightly crumb-y - to the back of Helen’s hand, just as Emma sometimes did for her when waking Hope up in the morning, or patching a skinned knee, or some similarly light hearted moment. That did make Helen laugh outright. And most of the lingering anxiousness in their booth slipped away when the rest of them joined in.

After that, they returned to their meal with ease, sensing that though it would surely take time and patience, Helen would fit in, and even more importantly, she wanted to. She would just have to learn how to relax enough to be herself and trust that who she was, was exactly who they wanted to know. Even when it was hard or stressful or took time - she was worth it, worth knowing.

Clearly taking a liking to her chicken sandwich and mac-n-cheese, Helen had eaten all of both and was savoring every delicate bite of the peanut butter cookie nearly the size of her face. She looked delighted by the taste of the sugary treat, but also as if she was still thinking about something as she chewed thoughtfully. Eventually, glancing between Killian and Henry, she asked her question as they all were finishing up their dessert. “So, all those people… all those ships… came after Helen of Troy? Just her? They all wanted her with them that much?”

Henry nodded, acknowledging that she was correct.

For a moment, Helen paused again, considering, “No one’s ever wanted me that much,” she finally admitted, in a tone so low they had to strain to hear her. “I was in those homes a long time, and no one came after me.”

Killian clearly wanted to answer, to dissolve the pain behind those whispered words, but he swallowed wordlessly, the sentiment lodged behind the empathetic lump in his throat, while Emma jumped in, voice wavering, but fervent and strong. “Not until now. But we will always come after you. You’re one of us… and you were always meant to be.”

Reaching across the table, Emma took Helen’s smaller hand in one of hers and her husband’s in the other, squeezing tightly and holding Helen’s eyes with a watery smile, refusing to blink until her newest daughter couldn’t help but believe.

With a wide grin, Henry spoke up next, offering Helen what was practically their motto, his absolute faith impossible to miss. “One thing you should definitely know, this family always finds each other.”

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @laschatzi​ @stahlop​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @jennjenn615​ @searchingwardrobes​ @kmomof4​ @jrob64​ @apiratewhopines​ @cosette141​ @elizabeethan​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @donteattheappleshook​ @sotangledupinit​ @tiganasummertree​ @optomisticgirl​ @spartanguard​ @therooksshiningknight​ @thislassishooked​ @scientificapricot​ @gingerchangeling​ @winterbaby89​ @xsajx​ @xarandomdreamx​ @anmylica​ @justanother-unluckysoul​

#cs one shot ff #cs family fluff #cs future family #cs adoption #birthday fic #we were always meant to find you #happy birthday @whimsicallyenchantedrose #even if it is a week late

[free-for-all-fics]

Writing Prompts and Random Thoughts Masterlist

Hi! Welcome to my multifandom prompts and ideas! While these may have originally been written with specific characters or fandoms in mind, feel free to swap out characters or change the fandom if you like plot ideas but want to use a different character than who I originally wrote it for. Anyone may use my ask box either to chat or to ask questions. Or if anyone wants to submit fic ideas that they want writers to potentially see but are too shy, I’ll post them here as well. If you’re inspired by a prompt, you may use it and change it up however you want. There are NO rules. I just humbly ask that you please tag me if you use any of these prompts because I’d love to read it!Happy writing/reading! ✍️💜

Black Panther 2

How old are Attuma and Namora?

Namor Prompts (Mostly familial ideas, with reader as Namor’s daughter)

Namor Prompts #2

Attuma Prompts

Namor & Attuma Prompts

Namor & Attuma Prompts #2 (Silly, stupid ideas just for laughs)

Namor and Pirate! Reader Prompt

Reader showing Namor snow for the first time Prompt

Namor idea submitted by Anon

Eros and Psyche AU Dream with Namor

Namor & Attuma Prompts #3 (Beach/Swimming Pool centric)

What if Namor, Namora, and Attuma all got snapped?

Cowboy!/Outlaw! AU Namor and Tenoch Prompts

Cowboy! AU Namor Prompt (Inspired by Amnesia Rebirth)

Vampire! AU Namor and Tenoch Prompts

Vampire! AU Namor and Tenoch Prompts #2

Sweet and Stupid Namor and Tenoch Prompts

Bridgerton

What if future Bridgertons took the mantle of Lady Whistledown? 

Dark Deception

Gold Watchers Prompts

Downton Abbey

Tom Branson Prompts

Interview with the Vampire

Interview with the Vampire Prompts

Queen of the Damned/The Vampire Lestat and The Lost Boys Crossover Prompt

Queen of the Damned/The Vampire Lestat and Near Dark Crossover Prompt

Kdramas

Squid Game Prompts

Labyrinth

Jareth Prompts

Marvel

What if Zemo had a daughter who survived the Battle of Sokovia?

Selkie!Zemo AU 

Marvel Prompts feat. Bucky, Zemo, and Loki

Suitkovia AU Zemo Prompts feat. Bucky

Marvel Prompts #2 feat. Bucky and Zemo

Miscellaneous

Anthony Stewart Head Character Prompts (Nathan Wallace and Rupert Giles)

Charlie Hunnam Character Prompts (Alan McMichael, King Arthur, Raymond Smith, and Will “Ironhead” Miller)

Ken Prompts (Barbie 2023)

Roberto “Beto” Prompts (Madres 2021)

Mozart in the Jungle

Manuel “Manu”/Tenoch AU Prompts 

Manuel “Manu”/Tenoch AU Prompts #2

Night at the Museum 

Al Capone/Lancelot Prompts (Mostly Lancelot)

Pedro Pascal and Characters

Pedro Pascal Character Prompts (Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels, Javi Gutierrez, Max Lord, Din Djarin, and Max Phillips)

Pedro Pascal Character Prompts #2 (Din Djarin, Marcus Moreno, and Dieter Bravo)

Din Djarin Eros and Psyche AU Prompt

Max Phillips and Dimitrescu Daughter Prompt

Detective Tim Rockford and The Thief Crossover AU Prompt

Clue/Murder Mystery AU Prompt feat. Detective Tim Rockford, Max Phillips, and The Thief

Pedro Pascal Character Prompts #3 (Detective Tim Rockford, The Thief, and Max Phillips. Mostly Crossover AUs)

Ezra (Prospect) Prompts (feat. Max Phillips)

Predator

How does a Yautja deal with their human mate’s mortality?

What if reader found a Yautja pup in a space pod?

Pushing Daisies

Pushing Daisies Prompts

Real Person Fanfiction

Tenoch Huerta as Gomez Addams Prompt

Historical/Fairytale AU Prompts for Tenoch Huerta 

Historical/Fairytale AU Prompts for Tenoch Huerta #2 

Bridgerton AU Prompt feat. Tenoch Huerta as a doctor/surgeon

Tenoch Huerta and Pedro Pascal as Vampires AU Prompt

Tenoch Huerta and Pedro Pascal as Vampires AU Prompt #2

Santa Clause

All I want for Christmas is Older Bernard content

Bernard & Chubby! Reader ask

Slashers and Horror

Thirst for older! Billy Loomis after seeing Scream 2022

What do you think Chromeskull’s phone password is?

Imagining Art the Clown as a dad after seeing Terrifier 2

Art the Clown, Sam, and The Jester as a Halloween slasher family 

Various Slashers Prompts (Brahms Heelshire, Ghostface, Thomas Hewitt, Jason Voorhees, Asa Emory, Jesse Chromeans, Severen Van Sickle and Bo Sinclair)

Bo Sinclair Fucks Around and Finds Out Rusty Nail is your dad Prompt (Joy Ride 2-3 and House of Wax crossover)

The Craft and The Lost Boys Crossover Prompt (Michael Emerson x reader, Platonic Lost Boys and reader. Sort of Rockstar AU)

Dominic Craven and John Crossover Prompts (He’s Out There/The Dare)

Van Helsing 2004 

Vladislaus Dracula and his Brides Prompts 

#masterlist #will be added to over time

[moonsdancer]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you've written, then pass it to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

Oooh, cool!

This exercise was funny because I made myself revisit old, old fic lol. It's crazy how one's writing develops. I forced myself to only pick one per fandom. Anyway, here we go:

5. we survive; we always survive (a dark comedy) | Bonnie Bennett/Caroline Forbes/Elena Gilbert | a zombie apocalypse poly romance bc why not

Extract:

They slept curled around each other.

As the least violent sleeper and the warmest of the three, Bonnie often found herself stuck in the middle. Her arms wrapped around her two friends as if they were all three drowning, and by sheer force of will, she might be able to keep them afloat with the strength of her arms. Caroline was a snuggler. She burrowed into any crevice she could find. Her favourite spot was Bonnie’s shoulder, right near where her pulse thrummed with the sweet scent of blood; it reminded her vaguely of pop tarts. Elena was a clinger. She clutched Bonnie’s hand in a claw-like grip that didn’t let up even in the deepest parts of the night, almost as though she was afraid they’d all disappear. Sometimes it hurt, made Bonnie grunt, “Ow, vampire strength, ‘Lena,” and she loosened her tight-wound fingers—but not by much.

4. if i’m lost then how can i find myself? | Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood | Shadowhunters | pre-relationship, Alec & touch starvation (before the show pissed me off as these shows do)

Extract:

It’s funny. But Alec doesn’t feel like a soldier when Magnus touches him, stuck in a centuries-old supernatural war they're not winning. He doesn’t feel like a blunt instrument to be thrown at the Clave for some unseemly purpose or like something to be patched up after a bloody battle.  

He’s just Alec, and Magnus Bane’s fingers are stroking the side of his jaw. Everything in his life feels like it could blow up in his face at any moment. But this, a hand on his cheek is nice. It makes him feel grounded and like he could float at once.

3. you're so (not) my type | Josie Mccoy/Reggie Mantle | Riverdale | 180 seconds of screen time and these two had me obsessed, ofc the show became so unwatchable but it peaked here for me.

Extract: “What’s going on with you and the walking jockstrap?”

2. drink the fatal drop, then fall apart in parts | Daenerys Targaryen & Jon Snow | Game of Thrones | in which the lord of light brings Dany back as a vampire and she goes on a revenge spree, starting with her killer - written in the throes of s8 rage lol. Basically a Kill Bill, Volume Dragon Queen, lol. I like how batshit it is, lol.

Extract:

“Yes—yes you did, Jon Snow.” She’s watching him the way a maester might watch a dull experiment. “I suppose it’s what you do, isn’t it? Kill people you love.” She says it with a calculated cruelty that makes him wince with every word

1.the wolf has golden teeth | Mel Medarda (& some Mel x Jayce) | Arcane | a Mel study spanning from childhood to the finale, I'll always be proud of this one. It's my truest love letter to Mel, and I've written several lbrh.

Extract:

He touches his forehead to hers just like they did as children and says, sure and warm as he always is even though his eyes are sorrowful, “We will meet again, sister, I promise you.” And she believes him because out of everyone, Kino has never lied to her. Not once. He steps back, his dark locs falling across his brow as he reaches into his pockets to procure a sealed letter. “Take this and head south to Rokrund, then east to Piltover by sea. Rhodri Ferros will take you in – at least until you decide what to do.”

“Why would they?” She’s never heard of the Ferros beyond reading some of the histories of Piltover, a city well-known even throughout Noxus for its industrial and trading prowess.

Kino smirks, a sharp thing full of teeth that reminds her a little too much of Mother. “Let’s just say, they owe me one.”

Tagging:

@laufire

@melmedarda

@synergetic-prose

@dontbotherwiththepronunciation

Anyone keen!

#my fic #mel medarda #arcane #tvd #elena gilbert #bonnie bennett #caroline forbes #sh #magnus bane #alec lightwood #riverdale #josie mccoy #reggie mantle #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #jonerys #fic meme #anon #Ask

[dvarapala]

okay no i lied i’m not shutting up about this so good afternoon and welcome to my tessa talk, in which i (tessa) talk about the indian characters in marvel and dc that could have and should have been used in their live action properties, if only the (mostly white, and mostly men, lbh) people in charge cared enough.

let’s jump into marvel first!

do you know who shri is? in the comics, she went to the pan-asian school for the unusually gifted and has powers that point towards her being either durga’s reincarnation or her avatar.

pom pom was shri’s classmate and has, you guessed it, pom poms made out of organic matter that she generates herself. and she can bind and ensnare people with it.

do you know michaela ladak? fashion queen. mutant who can solidify her own spit. which is a bit of a strange mutation but you know what? aim right and you can take someone’s eye out. knows ice man.

jackie chopra? canonically the daughter of the character played by the dude who also played jon snow in the eternals. helps him wield the ebony blade. if eternals has a sequel, i’d like to see jackie be a part of it.

raz malhotra? giant man. took over the mantle from hank pym, i think? gay. iconic. is dating this guy named isaac in the comics, iirc. he could easily take over from scott lang if/when he retires.

radha dastoor, aka haven. rich. genuinely kind. deserved better writers. deserves her own movie. and the same goes for her brother, aloba. google her and her backstory. you’ll know what i mean.

dinesh deol is an inhuman who lost both of his hands after he gained his powers. now he has two metal hands which he made for himself - very impressive - and tries to get a handle on his magnetokinesis and his other abilities.

shakti haddad can trash your nervous system. she can also track you down if you have powers. which is why her code name is cerebra. she can also kick your ass the regular way because she’s trained in martial arts. in another universe, she can reveal everything about you through mere touch.

paras gavaskar doesn’t just rock the purple, but also a retractable exo-skeleton suit. also, he had the right idea when he coined ‘indra’ as his super hero name. i, too, would name myself after the armorer of heaven after my mutant powers - granting me armor - manifested. he’s a vegetarian and, according to the yearbook, reliable and all around a good boy.

pavitr prabhakar is an alternate version of peter parker. but, you know, indian. worries a lot about his place in the universe. worries that he’s but a reflection of peter parker. has a cool outfit. especially the earrings. someone should hug this guy.

karima shapandar is more machine than person. has been through a lot of retcons. deserves her own d+ miniseries detailing her life and job. had a relationship with neal shaara for a while.

neal shaara can convert heat and generate solar energy. i don’t know why he picked thunderbird as an alias, but okay.

rina patel has bonded with venom in one universe, is called ms slip in the marvel noir universe, has time powers in another universe and has recently made an appearance in the comic book world in which she works against the champions if i remember correctly. in any case, i would want to see her in her prime hero days in which she interacts with the new warriors.

shilpa khatri is a recent addition to superhero canon. called out the pay gap in india. actually did something about it by using her technopath abilities to drain said rich people’s bank accounts and give back the money to the people said rich people screwed over. one of my favorites. is in either a flirtationship or an actual relationship with gentle aka nehzno abidemi and yes, they’re my otp.

raani jatwinder is also another favorite of mine. mutant. lives/works in london. technopath. has cool hair.

qureshi gupta should be played by sunny parwar if/when that character gets introduced. nicknamed pinpoint he can, you guessed it, teleport. has cool teal colored hair.

parul kurinji’s alias is zero/one which is badass. she can shapeshift her limbs into whichever weapon she needs whether this is energy projection or force fields or something else entirely. she can fly just a little bit and has minor time based abilities, too. 

sapna is my absolute favorite. a little cutie pie who can speak every language ever and controls demons. get her in a doctor strange movie asap!

sati is a superhero in india, named after brahma’s granddaughter. she can fly, has super strength, is basically invulnerable and has declared herself it’s protector.

skanda is either a god or a hero. or maybe both. also a protector of india. his code name is a cool mythological nod, too.

krista marwan kind of got the same treatment that radha / haven did. seriously, what is it with marvel? why do they have such a hard on for this?

garabed bashur is a deadpool villain, has electric telepathy or something. his code name is black box which is cool.

rana mousabi is a secret agent, an excellent shot, a fashion icon because she looks cute in her hijab and has matched it to her outfit whilst in the field. according to the wikia, she’s dead, but hey, let her live her second and best life in live action, am i right?

all of them are indian characters that marvel easily could have used in their live action properties. a couple of years ago, i read the comic that shri and pom-pom were in (a prelude to thanos arriving on earth) and i was so excited that i tweeted at the writer whose name i forgot (to this day i still don’t know why a white man was writing asian and black characters but okay) but whose reaction i can still recall because i got the most lukewarm response ever back.

so let’s shift it over to dc because i cannot believe we only got brainy in supergirl who got his happy ending and made it to the end without dying (yes i will judge them forever and a day for killing off jack spheer and william dey). 

what about jinx? who is most decidedly not gray skinned and pink haired (looking @ you animated series!)

or roshana chatterjee? ace queen who is super powerful but also kind. is part of a cool looking superhero team.

or kiran singh, who canonically has powers on raven’s level to the point where her powers of light make raven uncomfortable. she’s been a part of the teen titans. and to this day i still think that turning her into a slab of rock is bullshit. so reverse that and give her a show of her own.

arani desai, aka celsius. part of doom patrol. which, i must admit, i haven’t seen but a quick google search reveals she was in the show. but she was only in one episode. and i think she’s one of the first - if not the first - dc superheroes to be of south asian descent so i think they should do better.

aruna shende, shapeshifter, actress, stuntwoman. born in the slums. took the name of a male mythological figure. her powers manifested when she was young. helped batwoman out once (!!) and then vowed to use her powers for good. according to the wikia, her parents were never quite sure of her gender and so i am just gonna throw it out there: genderfluid aruna shende who’s out there living life and saving people.

chandi gupta, aka maya; a member of the european justice league. (as a european, i didn’t know that was a thing, either ;P) does archery like a badass. (@ green arrow: hello??? why’d you never take her on as your protege, huh?! why didn’t she ever meet speedy and/or red arrow, huh?!) has energy construct powers. can grant herself and other people abilities. has super strength and speed.

ava, aka freak, was born in india, became a host to an alien at some point which granted her prehensile hair, part of doom patrol at some point, is cute. 

jaina hudson aka white rabbit is a gotham city sociallite and villainess who deserves a better defined power set and a better look because come on? a brown woman becoming lighter skinned when she uses her powers? can you say whitewashing?!

queen cobra is part of black adam’s entourage and i hope she’s in his movie, at least. her get up is really cool.

kali gari is on the list because she may be a villain but she has cool powers.

levi kamei aka the new swamp thing. the swamp thing show got cancelled. perfect time to reboot it but this time, with levi (and his brother jacob) at the center.

#long post / #//it's times like these that i'm glad i turned anon off indefinitely #//bc i think i def would have gotten an anon going like: stfu no one cares xP #//but i care #//and i'm never gonna shut up about this sorry not sorry lmao #outofdoors

[masqueradenoir]

Whitley schnee is probably one of my favorite characters from RWBY but what is his fairy tale origin my head Cannon is that he is Kai from the Snow Queen if you're not familiar with the story Kai is a very intelligent young boy who is kidnapped by the titular character for no real reason other than he impressed her due to his intellect in the story Kai's best friend goes to save him however do to him being cursed to only see the worst in people it isn't until her tears dislodge the glass shards in his eyes and heart that the curse is broken this fits what we really well because most people see only the worst in him until he proves them otherwise like coming up with the plan to save mantle while the rest of the characters were like we should do something should we do something and also being the one to call Klein back to get medical help for Nora and later penny which mirrors guys intelligence in the story similarly I think that winter could be the titular Snow Queen and Willow could be Gerda the young girl that goes to rescue Kai this wouldn't be the first time got the Snow Queen has been drastically changed to no longer be the villain and Willow as Gerda I acknowledge is a huge stretch I'm only saying this because she's the one that actually rescues him while he's busy doing the evacuation winter on the other hand fits the Snow Queen roll because well she becomes the winter maiden by the end of volume eight

#RWBY #whitley schnee

[rubalotl]

MHS2 Attack Patterns

I wrote down a bunch of attack patterns in a draft post. I might as well post it instead of deleting it, in case it can be useful for anyone else. This is not 100% accurate though!

_____________________________________________

Soulseer Mizutsune

(Break legs to down it)

Bewitching Bubbles

Speed Attack

Speed Attack

Speed Attack

Bubble Mantle (Counter attack stance)

Wait-n-See

Bewitching Bubbles + Enraged

Groom + Spiral Claw

Power Attack (Spiral Claw) + Spiral Claw

Power Attack (Spiral Claw) + Foxflame Bubbles

Power Attack (Foxflame Bubbles) + Blue Moon + Back to Speed

_____________________________________________

Oroshi Kirin

-

Speed Attack

Speed Attack + Enraged

Power Attack 2x

Power attack + Icicle

Speed Attack

Speed Attack + Enraged

Power Attack + Icicle Horn

Power Attack + Icicle Horn

Power Attack + Icicle

Speed Attack

Icicle Terror + Enraged

Power Attack + Icicle Horn

Power Attack + Icicle Horn

Icicle Horn (Random aim) + Icicle

Speed Attack (Random aim)

Speed Attack (Random aim)

Icicle Terror + Enraged

Icicle Horn (Random aim)

Power Attack + Icicle

Speed Attack

Icicle Terror + Enraged

Icicle horn (random aim)

_____________________________________________

Molten Tigrex

-

Power Attack

Firepowder + Enraged

Savage Roar + Fang Combo

Speed Attack + Fang Combo

Savage Roar + Savage Roar

Power Attack

Power Attack

Power Attack

Firepowder + Enraged

Savage Roar + Fang Combo

Speed Attack + Fang Combo + HtH minigame

Savage Roar + Fang Combo + Defening Roar

Technical Attack on all

Blast Chaser + Blast Chaser + Wild Spear

Wild Spear + Wild Spear + Wild Spear (Downs itself)

DO DAMAGE!!

Firepowder + Enraged

Savage Roar + Fang Combo

Speed Attack + Fang Combo

Savage Roar + Savage Roar + Defening Roar

_____________________________________________

Elderfrost Gammoth

-

Power Attack (Random aim)

Ice Launcher Power

Snow Slurp

Power Attack

Power Attack (Random aim)

Power Attack

Power Attack

Silver Stomp

Ice Launcher Power

Power Attack

Ice Launcher Power

Snow Slurp

Power Attack

Power Attack

Silver Blast

Silver Stomp

Ice Launcher Power + Enraged

Power Attack (Random aim)

Snow Smasher

Snow Slurp

Power Attack

Silver Blast

Silver Stomp

Ice Launcher Power + Enraged

Power Attack

Snow Smasher

Snow Slurp

_____________________________________________

Boltreaver Astralos

-

Tech Attack (Random aim)

Blue Bolt

Plasma Blaster

Tech Attack

Lightning Blade + Takes Flight

Aerial Sting 2x

Aerial Sting + Plasma Strike + Lands & Changes to Power

Power Attack

Power Attack

Power Attack

Power Attack

Blue Bolt

Lightning Blade + Takes Flight

Aerial Sting 2x

Lightning Pulse + Plasma Strike + Lands & Changes to Speed

Speed Attack

_____________________________________________

Hellblade Glavenus

(Break tail to down it, I think)

-

Power Attack

Mega Fireball Charge

Speed Attack

Speed Attack

Speed Attack

Flame Chakram

Explosive tail

Explosive tail

Rupture blade

Power Attack

Power Attack

Flame Chakram

Explosive tail

_____________________________________________

Dreadking Rathalos

-

Power Attack

Power Attack

Soaring Inferno

Speed Attack

Speed Attack

Venom Strike

Power Attack

Power Attack + Enraged

Power Attack

Power Attack

Power Attack

King's Judgement

Technical Attack

Technical Attack

Venom Strike

Power Attack

Power Attack

Soaring Inferno

Speed Attack

_____________________________________________

Gold Rathian

(Break tail to down it)

-

Speed Attack

Flame Blaster + Enraged

Lunar Cry

Venom Sweep

Power Attack

Venom Sweep

Queen's Judgement

Speed Attack

Speed Attack

Flame Blaster + Enraged

Lunar Cry

Venom Sweep

Power Attack

Venom Sweep

Queen's Judgement

Valiant Flare

Blame Blaster + Enraged

Lunar Cry

Venom Sweep

Power Attack

Venom Sweep

Queen's Judgement

Valiant Flare

Flame Blaster

_____________________________________________

Silver Rathalos

-

Power Attack

Power Attack

Soaring Flame

Speed Attack

Speed Attack

Venom Strike

Power Attack

Power Attack + Enraged

Power Attack

Power Attack

Focus Power

King's Judgement

Technical Attack

Technical Attack

Venom Strike + HtH minigame

Power Attack

Power Attack

Power Attack

Soaring Flame

Speed Attack

Speed Attack

Venom Strike

Power Attack

Power Attack + Enraged

Power Attack

Power Attack

King's Judgement

_____________________________________________

Grimclaw Tigrex

-

Power Attack

Power Attack

Rock Slugger + Enraged

Speed Attack + Attack

Speed Attack

Crushing Fist

Power Attack + Enraged

Speed Attack + Attack

Speed Attack

?

Power Attack + Enraged

#mhs2 #monsterhunters2 #wings of ruin #attack patterns

[ao3feed-supercorp]

(Don't Fear) The Reaper

by BottomByKatieMcgrath, KuchikiKaoru

Kara went on a mission with the Legion of Superheroes after a fight with her best friend Lena Luthor. What she doesn't know is all the journey she had to go through before returning to planet Earth, but the thing is, she now calls herself Kara Mormont and lives as a farmer in Scotland during the day while at night she helps other aliens adjust to life on Earth along with her new family.

Lena never thought she would see her best friend again after so long, but why doesn't she remember her, and more importantly why doesn't she want to take up the mantle of Supergirl again?

Or where Kara becomes a knight of House Targaryen and returns to Earth because she remembers Lena Luthor's look, but not her name.

Words: 11604, Chapters: 6/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Supergirl (TV 2015), Supergirl (Comics), Game of Thrones (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/F, F/M

Characters: Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor, Samantha "Sam" Arias, Daenerys Targaryen, Arya Stark, Sansa Stark, Alex Danvers, Querl Dox, Lyanna Stark, Supergirl - Character

Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, Samantha "Sam" Arias/Daenerys Targaryen, Alex Danvers & Lena Luthor, Kara Danvers & Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Kara Danvers & Arya Stark, Querl Dox & Lena Luthor, Kara Danvers & Sansa Stark, Lena Luthor & Samantha Arias

Additional Tags: Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, Lena Luthor Needs a Hug, Lesbian Lena Luthor, Endgame Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, Slow Burn Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, Protective Lena Luthor, Alex Danvers & Lena Luthor Friendship, Sad Lena Luthor, Top Lena Luthor, Kara Danvers and Lena Luthor in Love, Kara Danvers Needs a Hug, Bisexual Kara Danvers, Protective Kara Danvers, Kara Zor-El Needs a Hug, Knight Kara Danvers, Warrior Kara Danvers, Dragon Kara Danvers, Amnesia, Farmer Kara Danvers, Song fic, Character Death, Reign Worldkiller its a hero, Reignerys, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Switch Kara Danvers, Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, Daenerys Targaryen Deserves Better, Daenerys Targaryen Lives, Past Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Pregnant Daenerys Targaryen, Married Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Bisexual Daenerys Targaryen, Kara Danves & Daenerys Targaryen Friendship, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Kara Danvers & Sansa Stark Friendship, Game of thrones and Supergirl, Lost Memories Kara Danvers, Mon-El (Supergirl TV 2015) Being an Asshole, No Kara Danvers/Mon-El, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

from AO3 works tagged 'Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor' https://ift.tt/hlF4pRL via IFTTT https://ift.tt/hlF4pRL

#supercorp #Kara x Lena #Kara Danvers x Lena Luthor #karlena