#The Warrior of Crimson Thunder

[sculptorofcrimson]

Tyrant’s Lullaby

Once upon a time, there was a glorious, terrible man. He built horrors. He built wonders. He brought monsters up from the deep. He took a child from the arms of a horrified, weeping family, and raised him not as a boy but as a general. He took a child and ruined his future, He took a child and made him a king, a pet, a dog. He marched armies over the face of the ravaged earth, and trampled all that did not kneel before the weight of the storm. He burned tundras to ash and shook the mountains until they crumbled, He boiled the seas to mist and the skies to charcoal. And when the scouring was done, and the earth was entombed in ashes, He turned His dreaming, endless glare upon His own. 

He strangled the thunder that had bore Him a throne, He sent the golden, the children stolen from their cradles, to plunge down long knives into turned backs raised so fervently before His regard. With their blood they had built Him a kingdom, and with their bones He crowned Himself a throne. And when Terra knelt, cowed, battered, in awe and in fear, He turned His gaze skywards.

And the stars felt His benevolent wrath. 

He bore twenty sons, two of them sacrificed, and He unleashed them upon the earth, the skies, the stars. They hunted for Him, they loved Him, they adored Him, yet some had strayed too far from His light, some had gazed upon the man that would be a god with sullen, hungry eyes, doing His bidding, and knowing His wrath. They are those who were there when affection curdled to treachery.

There was no peace among the stars, no mercy, no rest, simply a slow, heartless drowning as the gold claimed them limb by limb, inch by inch, and swallowed them into the endless light. 

And then war. Treachery, when the stars themselves were swallowed. When brother turned against brother, and father against son. When the Phoenix cleaved the Gorgon’s head from his shoulders, and the Immortal bashed in the Haunter with a hammer, when the Angel fell to the Traitor and He stained the Palace’s stones red with His son’s blood. When Horus burned, when the Angel shed his wings and the golden were shattered upon the anvil of betrayal, the Father fell to His son. 

He was buried upon a rotting throne, screaming hollowly into the fading dark, the stars basking in His rage, His pity and His wrath. He was buried alive in a tomb made from gold, ashen bones ruling a decaying kingdom from the grave, dreaming forever of brighter days. Dreaming of His sons, and how He betrayed them first, how they betrayed Him, how they abandoned His bones. And finally could the golden rest, bathed in the heart of their greatest shame, enshrining the decaying dust of a master they had failed, in an empire He had forsaken. 

That man was the Emperor. That corpse is the Emperor, golden, glorious, and decaying just like the slaves.

Do not think your bones different from a slave's. When you rot, your corpse will be indistinguishable from those of your servants.

#the primarchs #primarchs #traitor primarchs #horus lupercal #fulgrim #ferrus manus #sanguinius #warhammer 40k #sculptor of crimson #wh40k #constantin valdor #warhammer #wh40k writing prompts #adeptus custodes #emperor of mankind #drabble #primarch #horus heresy #fanfic #I wrote this a long time ago #here it is #writing #thunder warriors #great crusade #unification wars #vulkan #konrad curze

[anon-e-miss]

The Warrior’s Sheath

“Scrap!” Jazz cursed. “‘M all out.”

“Out?” Prowl asked, back flush against the wall. He had no shoulder mounts or blasters. They had been put in the Altihexian Senator’s safe ahead of the peace talks hosted by the Neutral state. Too bad they had proven to not be at all neutral. Thank fully, Jazz had knife sheaths concealed all over his frame.

“That was the last one,” Jazz replied, gesturing towards the balcony. A moment before, Jazz had driven a knife into his spark. The guard had fallen over the side before Jazz could retrieve his knife. His last knife.

“That is not ideal,” Prowl replied. Muffled shouts sounded at the base of the staircase. They had two flights of stairs before they reached their evac, waiting on the roof. From the thunder of their pedsteps, the guards and their Decepticon allies were gaining ground. By Prowl’s calculations, they would not react the roof before the caught up. “I have a thought.”

“Just one?” Jazz scoffed. Prowl rolled his optics and grabbed the saboteur’s servo. His panel opened with an audible click. “Seriously, Prowl?”

“Just pull,” Prowl snapped, guiding Jazz’s servo to the metal ball that bulged between his folds. He braced himself as he pulled Jazz’s wrist down. His knees went weak as he felt the blade descend.

“A fragging sword?” Jazz asked, almost snapping. “Ya got a sword stashed in yer valve?”

“Just don’t lose it,” Prowl snapped back. “I do not have another one!”

They ran up the stairs, the Decepticons hot on their peds. Prowl watched the staircase as Jazz argued with the lock at the rooftop door. Prowl shouted a warning as a Decepticon turned the corner. Jazz pushed away from the keypad and engaged the enemy. Slashing the blade, two servos on the handle, Jazz sliced through the Decepticon’s chassis. His spark extinguished with a bright flash. Jazz drove the sword through the keypad and Prowl forced the door opened. Bumblebee waved urgently and they raised up the ramp and before it had even closed where in the air.

“Where did you get a sword?” Bumblebee asked. Jazz looked at the sword in his servo and then to Prowl who immediately blushed crimson.

“Just… never mind.”

#anon-e-miss writes #valveplug #maccadams #tf prowl #mechpreg #i dont even know

[needfantasticstories]

3 excerpts from a WIP dedicated to @la-sera and her gorgeous Downfall Duo Art

(The whole thing is long, so I wanted to share the parts you'd probably like best.)

1 - Chain vs Ghirahim and Yiga Clan

2 - Legend goes crazy looking for Rulie

3 - Delayed reunion with Rulie

Blood and Blade (4820 words) by SkipBreaker Chapters: 1/? Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Sky/Sun (Linked Universe), Flora/Wild (Linked Universe), Malon (Legend of Zelda)/Time (Linked Universe) Characters: Sky (Linked Universe), Wild (Linked Universe), Hyrule (Linked Universe), Time (Linked Universe), Link (Legend of Zelda), Wind (Linked Universe), Warriors (Linked Universe), Twilight (Linked Universe), Yiga Clan (Legend of Zelda), Ghirahim (Legend of Zelda) Additional Tags: Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Sky (Linked Universe)-centric, Hyrule (Linked Universe) Needs a Hug, Sky (Linked Universe) Has a Bad Time, BAMF Legend (Linked Universe), Ghirahim Being Ghirahim (Legend of Zelda), Hyrule (Linked Universe) Has a Bad Time, Hyrule (Linked Universe) Has a Blood Curse, Good Older Sibling Warriors (Linked Universe), Mentioned Cia (Legend of Zelda) Series: Part 2 of WildSkyRule Summary: Ghirahim continues his quest to revive his master. Others have the same goal.

In Wild's Hyrule

“Traveler! Legend!” Four shouted in warning. 

“Oh look, I’ve found a little bird,” Ghirahim laughed. 

Legend? Sky turned to see Legend on the ground, knocked on his back by two pillars of earth the Yiga blademasters had shot up from the ground. They lifted their blades to strike him, but Legend was already swinging his leg to sweep their feet. He seemed to be holding his own. So who… 

Another shout from the road nearby, far more desperate, drew his eye. 

"Traveler!" Sky yelled. His heart beat too fast, the sound pounding in his ears. 

 Hyrule struggled desperately, pinned against the demon’s chest. The young traveler’s shield magic barely kept the barrage of black diamond blades at bay, but he was quickly wearing out from the effort. 

“Let him go!” Sky screamed as Ghirahim slowly stepped backwards, “Rulie! Thunder!”

One of Ghirahim’s arms released Hyrule as he reached for something at his side, giving Hyrule just enough room to slip an arm out and raise it high to cast Thunder. 

But the demon yanked his hand back and looped thin, crimson ropes over his wrists with rapid precision, like a spider weaving silk on a fly. 

“No!”  Legend yelled when he toppled both Blademasters and saw his successor, his little brother, trapped.  

Hyrule gasped and writhed as the red rope touched him, and tightened. Sparks of his Thunder spell fizzled and died as it throbbed with dark purple light. 

Hyrule grew pale and his eyelids drooped, half-closed, as magic drained from him. The rope cinched his wrists tighter together as the daggers turned outward, circling defensively around the demon and his prey. 

“Get off him!” Legend roared, but red flashes appeared in a circle around the Vet. When he tried to run past, two Yiga soldiers intercepted his path before he could gain enough speed with even a single step, and they shoved him back into the Blademasters. They wrestled him, grappling over tempered blade

“No!” Hyrule yelled, his eyes flashed open in terror for Legend before drooping again as the red ropes pulsed.

“What do you want with them?” Twilight demanded, searching the demon’s barrier for weak points and finding none. Goddesses, I miss Midna! She would strangle this clown and we’d be halfway to the stable by now.

“Oh, they don’t know about your ability, little fairy?” Ghirahim crooned in Hyrule’s ear. 

Hyrule closed his eyes tight, trying to hide his terror. He shook his head, then yelled as fast as he could, “He wants my bl–mmmph!” His words cut off as Ghirahim clapped a spindly hand over his mouth and chin. 

“You really never told them! Ha ha ha! How fortunate! I suppose that will be a mystery for the heroes to puzzle over on their own.”

“His blood revives Gannon!” Legend finished for him, and found two more huge Blademasters between him and the other Links.

There was no time to process.

Wild shot three arrows at the tall demon’s head. With a flippant wave of his fingers, the hovering knives transformed into a shimmering barrier and blocked them. 

Wild switched arrows. If ever there was ever a time to use his last ancient arrow, untouched since his fight with Gannon, it was now.

 “We need to get over there!” Wild yelled, knocking the arrow and swapping for Revali’s bow. Yet each time they tried to push closer, the Yiga rushed for Wild and the others stopped to defend him. 

Wild found an opening at last, and aimed for Ghirahim’s head, exhaled, and released the ancient arrow. 

A Yiga footsoldier appeared in the ancient arrow’s path. The soldier disappeared while the rest charged. Growling, Wild pulled out electric arrows instead. At least he had 200 of those. 

Throughout this, Legend wrestled his attackers, resisting them as much as they pressed him back, his power bracelets a force equal to their size. He kept them so off-balance that each slice and stab missed, and his boots dragged them quickly at whiplash speeds, steadily moving closer to Hyrule, but the assassins clung to him desperately, grappling for his arms. Wild and Twilight tried to pick off attackers, but Legend lurched unpredictably.

As he stopped to breathe, three fresh Yiga Blademasters appeared beside Legend and the four surviving attackers. 

Twilight, Wind and Four reached them at the same moment. 

“Subdue him already, fools,” The demon groused to the Yiga soldiers.

The Links redoubled their efforts to reach the pair.

Sky looked back to Hyrule, who had slumped in the demon's arms.

“Coward!” Sky yelled, breaking from Wild, Warrior, and Time.

“So much magic in this one, Skychild!” Ghirahim sang from another direction. He disappeared from the back of their group to the crossroad far ahead. He hefted the now unconscious teen in his arms.

“No!” Sky roared, just as lightning finally flashed above and struck the sword, but in the same instant Ghirahim and Hyrule had vanished in a cloud of obsidian diamonds. His skyward strike flew through empty air. 

Always too late, Sky thought. He felt sick. Couldn’t breathe. 

“Rulie!” Legend yelled, but the distraction cost him. The Yiga swarmed him like ants. One Blademaster struck the sword from his hand and another two pinned both his arms back. A fourth blocked Wild and Twilight’s shots with a shield.

“Ledge!” Wind warned too late, and Sky watched, frozen, as two Blademasters held the panting veteran still, brown ropes in the hands of a third, before they too disappeared. 

Where is Crimson? Sky thought numbly, standing alone where Hyrule and Legend had been. He had to fly…no, to run…to find them... but where did they go? 2. Legend's Escape

When the Yiga took Legend, they had not accounted for two facts: Legend’s arsenal of weapons, and his willingness to single-handedly burn down the entire hideout wile still inside it.  

“Where did you take him!?” Legend demanded, blasting his fire rod at the Yiga soldiers dancing away from his blasts, narrowly escaping a fiery end. 

“You’re the only one we got, you idiot!” A footsoldier shouted as she fired an arrow at Legend. She missed him entirely in her panic at the creeping flames, “you’re going to die with us if you keep lighting everything on fire!”

Alone within the enemy’s stronghold, he found no reason to hold back. 

 Legend grinned, and sent another blast into their supply of bananas. The soldiers scrambled to dodge and tried in vain to put out the flames before their whole stock burned. Legend sent back a few more blasts as he ran to the next room.

No Hyrule here, only more idiots, he realized as he entered a sparse training room. He chased the few soldiers out and continued his hunt from room to room, Pegasus boots moving him past the guards who shouted at him, the more persistent ones getting a blast of fire to the face before he continued his search. They popped in and out around him, but he hardly gave them a chance to materialize before blasting them

3. Reunion

(several days later, on a second sweep of the Yiga base with backup)

Wild, Twilight, and Legend appeared at the shrine by the Yiga base in the dead of night. 

The place was a wreck. Not a single Yiga appeared to stop them. 

“What the hell did you do, Ledge?” Twilight marveled. 

Wild surveyed the damage, some wall chunks blasted halfway to the bottomless pit where Master Khoga accidentally died while trying to kill him. 

“Hey, I don’t remember doing all this, okay? Could have been someone else,”

They both raised an eyebrow at him.

“Dinraal herself wouldn’t unleash this much destruction,” Wild smiled. 

“The Gerudo don’t like them either, little vai,” he scoffed, and looked around the piles of scorched boulders for an opening. 

“Hey, Twi’,” Wild pointed at the wall to their left. The once smooth canyon wall now showed a hidden hallway passage between blasted walls.

“I’m pretty sure that was me,” Legend confessed, “That’s just what we need, actually. It’s familiar. It leads to the prison cells,” He marched that way. “I hope they didn't reset their traps. I’d hate to have to blast them all over again,”

Wild followed. 

A rumble of thunder made them all slow and look to the sky.

A bright moon shone over a cloudless night.

“You heard that too, right?” Wild asked.

“Like…Thunder?” Twilight answered.

They raced inside.

(shortly after)

“Hyrule!” 

 He froze at Legend’s familiar yell. 

There, through the doorway, ran Legend, Twilight and Wild. 

He could hardly believe his eyes, but his thoughts had already turned to what he’d been running from.

“It’s Gannon!” Hyrule yelled as he raced to meet them, “We have to go!”

Legend grabbed the projectile that was Hyrule in his arms and nearly crashed into Wild as the debris ahead exploded. Twilight threw a blue Sheikah bomb at the broken hall which Wild set off as they ran.

Around the corner, Wild yelled, “Pull in close!”

They huddled together as blue tendrils encircled and took them out of reach of the red lights popping into view all around. The Yiga didn’t even finish materializing before the Links were gone. 

They reappeared in the cold, waving grass of Hyrule field.

“Hyrule, what the hell!” Legend’s voice trembled slightly as he gripped Hyrule’s arms and took in the state of his successor: the red thread around his throat like a line of blood, the strange white clothes, the chains, and the bruises all over him, but nothing lethal. He sighed in relief. 

“Just in case,” Twilight released a fairy. 

She zipped out and rushed around Hyrule with rapid squeaks, healing the few scrapes and bruises he’d earned climbing in the rubble. 

She chittered at the red cord on his neck before flying off. 

Before the fairy danced off into the night, Legend had pulled Hyrule into a ferocious hug. 

“I can’t believe we found you, Rulie,” he began with a growl that ended in a sob. 

Hyrule sat stunned for a moment, his tired mind catching up to the rush of events. He could feel his friend, smell his magic and sweat, the cool night air, the feel of the sturdy red tunic under his hands. He clutched him fiercely back. This wasn’t a dream. Hyrule grabbed fistfulls of the familiar tunic, and his chest swelled. 

“I’m sorry,” Hyrule sobbed into his friend’s neck, “I tried, but they brought him back! I couldn’t stop them. I'm so sorry!”

Legend pulled back and grabbed his face and looked at him fiercely. Hyrule’s heart tightened, ready for his wrath.

“It’s not your fault people are trying to destroy the world, Rulie,” his red, watering eyes made Hyrule’s heart ache, “We should have found you sooner. I’m sorry,”

Twilight and Wild placed a hand on Hyrule’s shoulder as well. He let Legend lean his forehead on his own, and they sat like that until both of them caught their breath as they sat in the cool grass. 

#hyrule linked universe #linked universe #legend of zelda #linked universe wild #link #legend linked universe #updated

[justpoliteconversations]

By Omission [Linked Universe Four]

Everyone has their secrets. Four has more than most.

This is one of the requests from this Post. First time really getting into Four's inner workings, so lets see how this goes.

Masterlist

TW: None.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

It was times like these that Four understood the violet shade of his heart more than he'd like to admit. Past the outraged blue, the anxious red or even the ever soothing green, was the cool, mauve pragmatism glinting in ever-shifting eyes. Purpose beyond one's sense of self, and the intent to see it through no matter the costs.

The weight of the travel bag leaning against his leg sat heavy on Four's consciousness, laden with the burdens of his sins. Sins that seemed to keep growing by the day, right under the very noses of the ones he'd sworn to himself to protect. Festering in his heart and driving the sum of himself to near madness.

He leaned hard into Vio's unfaltering resolve on the hardest of days. Like now.

'We should just tell them.' Came the nearly sobbed whimper of Red, the swirl of bleeding crimson blotting the backs of Four's eyelids. 'They love us. They wouldn't hurt any of us!'

'Really?' Came blue spite, low but building like thunder in Four's ears. 'Let stab happy pretty boy in on the fact that we're all liars and one of us is a twice damned traitor?'

'Circumstances were-' Purple logic was cut short by an explosion of static navy crackling across their bonds.

Four wanted to tune them all out. Ignore the hissing, snarling depths of his own fears and misgivings. But denial was never a luxury he'd been afforded.

Not since that day so many years ago, when four other voices rose up to ensure he never forgot the sum of all of himself.

'He's an uptight prick with a sword up his ass under that fake as din smile and he's just looking for a reason! So yeah, Red! That would go over real fucking well! Absolutely genius!' Steel blue rolled like a tidal wave over the space between.

'There's no need to get nasty, Blue. We're all feeling the strain of recent events.' Came Green's gentle soothing, smothering down the blue sea that'd leaked over faintly wavering borders.

'Most of us, you mean! Since one of us is used to sneaking around behind other's backs!'

'Blue, please.' Red sniffed, like a fire brand across their heart, pulling guilt and sadness both from the lining of thier gut.

Four grit his teeth subtly, pushing back the onslaught of emotion. The roil of unease and understanding that flashed green and violet in his mind.

'One of us has to be.' Violet washed over the connection between them, quiet and thick like oil across the edge of a blade. Toxic as poison. Kept nice and neat within invisible lines that were consciousness, but for a fleeting, chilling touch.

It was quiet then, frustrated and sorrowful both. A breath and Four was fully back in the physical world with a thin, hard covered book (pointless, but a necessary deception) in hand and Warriors seated at his side with frustrated tension in his shoulders. Sky sat across from them both, looking just about ready to drop dead right there on the table, his own read nearly limp in his hands.

Seemingly unable to hold back his distaste any longer, Wars stood with a soft hiss, eyes narrow as he stared down his stack of historic accounts with disappointment. "This is the largest library in any of our eras, and yet there's not a single useful scrape of information."

'There was plenty.' Four thought with blue-lavender indignation, red guilt at it's core, the weight of his consciousness pressing on his throat. The bag propped against his leg felt like hellfire.

"Maybe you're just too far down the timeline." Sky suggested tiredly, though looking a little more alive now that he had an excuse to not stare at crisp white pages for even a small, merciful moment. Four was almost spiteful at the blatant disregard for freely offered knowledge, but soft, soothing mint subdued gleaming, darkening magenta.

Four was grateful.

Now was not the time. Not with the contents of his pack weighing so prominently at the forefront of his consciousness. Not with Wars so close, sword strapped to his back and gleaming ominously even here in the comfort of his own city.

Not with the assassination attempt that had occurred not even a day ago, putting a sharp, calculated gleam into the Captain's icy stare. A cold light that shone brightly upon all it touched, even his dearly beloved brothers. Looking for fault or guilt, even as he smiled so prettily.

"Could Cia have been here before." Four inquired with his usual calm, but for the way his heart quivered red and blue under the constricting violet haze. "She had an interest in us heros after all."

A moment of tense contemplation. And then Warriors sighed, slumping back into his chair with quiet defeat. It stabbed at Four's heart, to have put that silent, distant suffering into his brother's already wounded eyes. To sacrifice his peace of mind to ensure his own survival.

To ensure His survival.

'Vio's little secret.' Blue snarled sharply, a coiled snake tensed in its corner as Four retreated into his book once more. Not truly absorbing, merely flitting through the motions as he listened in.

Observing. Weighing the value of his many parts.

Lavender calm. 'You helped gather the pieces. Your hands are not clean.' Cold truth.

'You-'

'Please. Can we just not fight about this today? Not when we're guilty already for leaving Wild while we were stealing from Wars!' Red yelled quite suddenly, crimson dripping, splattering, searing all across the bond. Feelings of remorse so great Four nearly broke into sobs, stopped only by electric blue will and violet stoicism.

Vio and Blue stayed silent, letting the gentle wisp of green curl around thier bleeding heart. 'That's not what happened, Red. We would never have gone if we knew he'd be attacked.'

'But we did.' A whisper. 'Wars told us it wasn't safe and we still left him. If it had been someone else without experience. Twilight. Sky. Wind.'

'It won't happen again, Red! I promise you that!' Blue determination, heavy with the promise of thunderous storms.

'Yes. It was a miscalculation that won't happen again.' Cool violet easing silkily against the burning red guilt. 'We will take precautions.'

'We learn from our mistakes, as we always have. This will be no different.' Green confidence, a warm breeze clearing away the heat and cold and static charge.

'Okay.' Red sniffed, comforted. For now.

Still seated at the library table, besides the very man who may very well kill him for his transgressions someday, Four relaxed. Finally at ease within himself.

'We should tell them we can turn into a Minish.'

Four sighed, brows pinched as he felt a headache coming on. He ignored the empathetic doe eyes Sky sent his way, and War's equally sympathetic gaze.

He turned a page.

---

To the shadows to rest.

#linked universe #linked universe four #lu four

[tenebraevesper]

Shatter Me, Entry 5: Shatter Me - Sonic X Shadow Generations

''Somebody make me feel alive and shatter me!''

– Shatter Me by Lindsey Stirling

xXxXxXx

Shadow's crimson eyes widened, their colour reflecting that of the sky, which was covered in dark clouds, thunder rumbling and lightning glowing in an eerie blood red light. Black and red alien-like creatures appeared from the clouds, dropping all over the city that Shadow had been observing earlier, causing carnage and destruction in their wake. Shadow could only stare in shock in disbelief as the realization of not only where he was, but also what was going on, hit him.

''Impossible! The Black Arms were supposed to be extinct!''

Somehow, he found himself back at Westopolis during the siege the Black Arms aliens laid upon it, but he didn't understand how this was possible. He knew that the Black Arms were gone, having not only personally defeated Black Doom as Super Shadow, but also annihilated the Black Comet via the Eclipse Cannon. Despite not acknowledging himself as such, he was the sole survivor of the Black Arms race, being a hybrid who had Black Arms DNA imbued in his person.

Nevertheless, having his memories fully restored and having resolved to protect the world in his own way, Shadow decided to put a stop to this invasion. It didn't matter to him whether this was some kind of illusion or if he had traveled to the past, he was not going to let Black Doom, or anyone for that matter, manipulate him again. Having made his decision, he skated off towards the city, fighting off any of the aliens that got into his way.

If the Black Arms are here, then Black Doom should also be close.

Shadow blasted a Black Warrior with a well-aimed Chaos Spear, continuing his chase through Westopolis, looking around for Black Doom, as he suspected that his supposed ''father'' might appear eventually and demand that he finds the Chaos Emeralds. However, something that he took note of was the fact that the streets seemed to be almost empty. There were no civilians running away nor G.U.N. soldiers fighting back against the invasion, keeping Shadow wondering. He was suddenly blinded by a flash of light, placing his arm over his eyes to shield them, and to his shock, he found himself skating through the Space Colony ARK, devoid of all life aside from one entity that emerged from a red portal.

''You!''

Before Shadow was a black and dark purple starfish-like creature with six black-tipped squamous probes and a brutally large red-orange eye in its center. Emerging from its eye and moving along its limbs, it had six blood-red lines. The dark hedgehog furrowed a brow, gritting his teeth as he glared daggers at what he came to knew as Doom's Eye.

''You are late, Shadow… We have returned to take over this pathetic planet you call home! Its annihilation is near! It is time to embrace the dawn of your demise and despair!''

To Shadow's shock, the space station around him started to break apart, with reality warping in itself, turning into a spiral-like landscape. Shadow turned his attention back to Doom's Eye, who was now escaping through the tunnel and sped up, determined not to let it get away. However, the ground below him gave away, and a kaleidoscope of buildings emerged instead. It was as if the world was falling apart and trying to rebuild itself again. He saw Doom's Eye flying past him, stopping for a moment as if to taunt him, before disappearing once again as Shadow fell back into a reality that was either the past or his own memories; he didn't know.

''Shadow!''

Shadow felt someone grabbing him by the wrist, turning his attention upwards and seeing Sonic holding his arm. The azure hedgehog was just as stunned to see the environment around them becoming more and more twisted, but nevertheless happy to see his rival.

''Brace yourself!'' Sonic exclaimed, suddenly throwing Shadow towards a nearby skyscraper, with the dark hedgehog landing on top of it. Sonic then used his homing attack to zero in on the skyscraper, skidding to a halt once he landed safely. Both hedgehogs exchanged glances, before looking back at their surroundings, which were a twisted reflection of the reality they knew.

''Sonic, what is going on? The Black Arms…'' Shadow trailed off when he suddenly spotted another newcomer to their little reunion – a light blue hedgehog wearing red shoes and carrying himself with a swagger Shadow had already seen in one other person. His eyes darted from Sonic's younger self towards the older one, who just gave him a confident smirk.

''It's a bit of a long story involving saving the world again… But, do you think you can handle yourself here?'' Sonic asked. Shadow gazed back at the warped image of Westopolis that was once again invaded by the Black Arms, before turning his attention back to Sonic, responding in an equally confident manner.

''Of course I can. I'll take care of this.''

Links:

#Previous Chapter

#Current Chapter

#Sonic Cyber Revolution (Masterlist)

#Shatter Me #Sonic Cyber Revolution Analyzer #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #sonadow prime #sonadow generations #sonic prime #sonic x shadow generations #sonic generations #shadow the hedgehog (2005) #classic sonic #black arms #black doom #doom's eye #Teaser For a Future Project

[yuniex07]

The Magnificent Century

Ok i've been rewatching this tv drama, and as a sucker for historical stories along with middle east aesthetics and culture...I had an urge to make a sort of adaptation/mix with my current obsession: BG3.

So this is an AU, where the ottoman empire will be represented by the vampire coven belonged to Cazador, ruling and conquering all the regions around Baldur's Gate.

Warning: I'm nowhere near to be a decent writer plus, english is not my mother language soo, I'm sorry in advance. Other from that, this is the draft or prelude chapter so nothing to warn unless you count the inplications of a boylove interaction triggers you somehow ?

In future chapters, if i dont get dissapointed in my ugly writting abilities theres going to be harem/noncon/pansexual/domsub/a little bit of Stockholm syndrome? who knows...

Words: 2151 ( honestly how people can write more than this? i was suffering!)

Pairing: for now Pansexual Astarion/Sebastian later Astarion x F!Tav(Lyanna/Love)

Read under the cut

Chapter 1: A new dynasty

In the year 1492 DR, amidst the intricate streets of Baldur's Gate's upper city, the Szarr Palace loomed ominously. Its gothic spires cast long shadows in the fading light of the sunset, forming an imposing silhouette against the darkening horizon. The palace pulsed with unsettling energy; guards and servants weaved through its corridors, torches and candles flickered along the grand halls, casting dancing shadows on opulent walls adorned with tapestries and gilded frames. The air held a palpable tension, thick with anticipation.

Outside the formidable structure, a figure clad in black leather carried a scroll sealed with crimson wax, imprinted with the family crest—a set of two groups of five rats and five mice intertwined by their tails in an inner and outer circle. The contents of this scroll would set into motion a series of events with far-reaching consequences. Approaching a similarly outfitted man mounted upon a steed that seemed to emerge from the depths of the netherworld, the messenger wasted no time. With unearthly speed, the horse thundered through the palace gates, its hooves echoing against cobblestones as it raced into the night. As the horse and rider vanished into the shadows, the wheels of fate began to turn.

Meanwhile, on a distant battlefield illuminated by the moon's pale glow, a bloody clash unfolded. An elven warrior, his red eyes ablaze with the thrill of battle, charged toward his next target with unparalleled speed. His pale skin was adorned with the blood of foes, much like the white locks that peeked out from beneath his war helm. With a swift swing of his short blade, he unbalanced an opponent, creating an opening to plunge a dagger into the enemy's eye, extinguishing its life in an instant. The elven warrior reveled in his prowess; his pale skin glowed in contrast to his black and red armor. The Szarr sigil on his chest delivered a silver gleam under the dim light. Behind him, figures clad in similar armor finished off the remnants of the enemy's army, their triumphant cheers echoing through the battlefield—a declaration of the Szarrs' indomitable might.

The Dragon Coast now lay under their control, a strategic stronghold for dominating trading routes and, inevitably, the region of Cormyr.

The elven warrior walked toward his tent, three figures following close behind. “Master Astarion,” a young human man said. He had fair skin, ash-blonde hair ending at his shoulders, brown eyes, and a middle-muscle frame. “We are so close to reclaiming the whole region under the crimson’s dynasty. Lord Cazador will be delighted,” the pale elf stood still at the mention of his master and progenitor.

Hearing his name ignited discomfort and fury in him. “To be honest, I could care less about what the old wretch thinks, Sebastian. Remember, we are just mere pawns to dispose of for his great conquests,” the elf said, concealing his annoyance.

“Be careful with your words, Astarion,” another man responded. His right eye was of white stone, scars adorned his face, and he had a rich, deep skin tone. But his more prominent feature was a couple of horns adorning his head. “Or what, Wyll? Are you going to tell the old bastard? Warlocks like you are a pain in the ass, always loyal to their masters,” Astarion said with venom in his voice.

“Just trying to save your sorry ass from another year locked in a tomb,” Wyll replied mockingly. Astarion’s eyes opened, and rage invaded his features. “You come and say that again!” he said dangerously approaching Wyll.

The third figure finally intervened, placing herself in the middle of them. “Enough, you two!” she commanded. The woman had a strong build, clearly a warrior with expertise, crimson skin, one horn on her head, and a fiery gold gaze.

“We've had enough blood and fights for a day. Can’t we just rest and clean up all the gore? You two do look like shit.”

“Say that to him, Karlach!” Astarion replied. “If you weren’t one of the master’s spawns I would’ve kicked your ass long time ago” – Wyll answered.

“That is also inappropriate commander Ravengard; our Lord’s spawns are like an extension of himself. You need to show him some respect” -Sebastian said

“Tsk”- Wyll, let out. “Unfortunately, Leon was the most suited for this crusade, and now I have to be stuck with the sharp-tongued one.”

“Too bad my little brother disobeyed Cazador and had to run away with that kid. Now he is been chased to face something worst to dead if he gets caught” - Astarion says in fake mockery, hiding emotions he dared to not show. Deep down he felt sorry for his “bother”.

“There’s time before the sunrise, everyone go get cleaned while the brigade returns with our war loot, then we will able to discuss our next moves.”- Astarion commanded, as the other three figures nod and turn around to leave him in his tend. Astarion takes off his helmet, unleashing rebellious white curls falling down his forehead, placing the helmet on the war table he begins to unlock the strands holding his black armor.

“I thought I said to go clean up, Sebastian”-Astarion says as he feels the presence behind him. The top side of his armor falls heavily on the floor.

“I know…I just wondered if the master needed help with his bath” -Sebastian replied. Astarion turned around to face him, revealing his chiseled torso uncovered and shimmering by the sweat mixed with a bit of blood, “Is that so?”- He said while raising an eyebrow and a smirk on his face, “Then by all means, help me out with my boots”. Sebastian nodded and kneeled in front of him to begin untying Astarion’s boots.

Once he finished, while still kneeling Astarion took Sebastian’s hair and pulled in a way to make him face him. “Good boy, now…work on my pants, then, you can help me with my bath”. Sebastian just grinned and nodded, “As my master commands”.

Far away from the war camp, the vampiric forces continued to loot the nearby villages, burning houses and reuniting the survivors that could serve as military or slaves. A small group of six people were running from the riot, within them two silhouettes leading them trying to get away by blending with the shadows of the buildings.

The smaller figure among them was sobbing and shaking, “Shh…Hayleen, you need to be quiet or they will find us”, -The bigger figure whispered, trying to soothe the little child. – “I’m scared, sister” – the child sobbed. – “They…they killed adar and naneth”.

The oldest on the pair frowned with a pained expression, she couldn’t help their parents, they gave their life to allow them to run, protecting her little sister was all she can do to honor their sacrifice. “I know! but you have to be strong for them.” - The child nodded and dried her tears with the inside of her sleeve.

The bigger sister peeked around a corner, no one in sight, “Alright, lets go and don’t look back”, they were so close to reach the woods, there was a hidden cabin by the lake deep in the woods, with a bit of luck, a boat might still be there. They could row until they reach Cormyr. “Just a little more, Hayleen” -Lathander have mercy on them, she thought. Suddenly three arrows landed in front of them, stopping their advance, no, was all she could think, “Everyone run!”- she said, while several dark horses and their riders approached them. There was no time, they were going to capture them both if she doesn’t do anything, “Take Hayleen, everyone get closer!”.

“NOO! Lyanna! Don’t leave me!” – Hayleen screamed to her sister as she was hold by another woman. Lyanna enveloped her sister and the other escapees with a sacret light, she never tried this conjure before, but it was her only choice. Her eyes glowed with divine light “Morning lord! lend me your strength! Word of recall!” a light orb surrounded all the survivors but herself, the conjure could only carry five people to safety.

The crying face of her sister was the last thing she remembered, what happened next was too fast, the riders reached to her a whip hold onto her ankle before she could have time to react and give in a fight, the movement of the horse rider made her fall and she was violently pulled a few meters before they stopped, her head hit the ground hard enough to leave her stunned. Her eyesight blurred as she as falling unconscious, the rest she remembers from that night was only darkness.

Astarion was comfortable lying in the tub, eyes closed as the warm water soothed him. “You seem more relaxed now” – Sebastian said as he delicately scrubbed Astarion’s torso with a sponge as he settles in, leaning his head on the pale elf shoulder. Astarion chuckles – “I might be…thanks to the good company”

“And some pampering, as much as the bloody semblance suits you, that helmet did outrageous things to your hair. Now you look back to normal” – Sebastian remarked as he tucked a lock of silver hair behind the elf's pointed ears. “Darling, you wound me! You know I would look fabulous even covered in mud and dirt” – the elf replied moving his hand with disdain.

Both men were enjoying a little peace until they hear a commotion outside the tent, looking at each other they hurried to put on some clothes to investigate the noises.

The night hung heavy over the war camp, shrouded in darkness and punctuated by the distant sounds of looting and chaos. Astarion and Sebastian hastily dressed up with comfortable clothes, knives and swords in hand, the commotion outside growing louder. They exited the tent, senses heightened, ready to face whatever disturbance awaited them.

As they stepped out into the night air, a rider emerged from the shadows, mounted on a horse that seemed to meld with the darkness itself. The steed's eyes glowed an eerie crimson, mirroring the seal on the scroll the rider held in his hand. Astarion recognized the rider as one of Cazador's palace messengers.

The rider dismounted gracefully, approaching Astarion with a deep bow. "My master Astarion, I bring grave tidings from the palace," the messenger said, his voice low and respectful. Astarion's eyes narrowed, a flicker of anticipation in his gaze.

"What news?" Astarion demanded, his tone betraying a mix of curiosity and suspicion. Sebastian stood by his side, observing the unfolding scene with a vigilant gaze.

The messenger handed the sealed scroll to Astarion. The crimson wax bore the imprint of Cazador's family crest—the two groups of five rats and five mice intertwined in an intricate pattern. Astarion broke the seal, unfurling the parchment.

The words inscribed on the scroll revealed the fate that had befallen Cazador Szarr. Astarion's eyes scanned the lines, absorbing the news of his master's demise. The air around him seemed to grow heavier, a moment of silence hanging in the balance.

Astarion's expression remained stoic, but a storm brewed beneath the surface. The messenger spoke cautiously, "Lord Cazador met his end in the pursuit of greater power. The Ritual of Profane Ascension has claimed him. He sought to transcend the limitations of vampirism but succumbed to it. All his spawns are to come back to the palace with ease as a new successor must be selected”

Astarion's grip on the scroll tightened, his jaw clenched. Sebastian placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, silently acknowledging the weight of the news. The rest of the camp, unaware of the unfolding drama, continued with its nocturnal activities.

"My master, by the decree of the coven, you or any of the other male spawns, are eligible to ascend and become the new ruler of the coven" the messenger continued, sensing the shift in power dynamics.

Astarion's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions—grief? No, far from it, it was a thirst for the newfound opportunity, and the power that could be in the palm of its hands.

"Thank you for delivering this news. Return to the palace; tell them I will make my way there immediately," Astarion commanded, dismissing the messenger. The rider bowed once more, mounted his shadowy steed, and disappeared into the night, leaving the camp in the wake of Cazador's demise and Astarion's road for ascension.

Sebastian turned to Astarion, his expression a mix of concern and loyalty. "What will you do now, my Lord?"

Astarion gazed into the distance, the campfires flickering like distant stars. "Prepare for a new era, Sebastian. The throne is mine for the taking, and the coven will bow to its new master."

As the words hung in the air, the vampire spawn contemplated the path ahead—the challenges, the opportunities, and the uncharted territories of leadership that awaited him under the moonlit sky.

#ascended astarion #bg3 #astarion x mc #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 tav #astarion ancunin #lord astarion #astarion x sebastian #cazador szarr #bg3 cazador

[kit-williams]

The Yandere Space Marine Masterlist

Dark Angels Azazel Erros x Mortal/Pet Secret Sin Azazel rework: Sick Thoughts

Emperor's Children Palion Hiss x Muse Beauty in the Eye

Iron Warriors Harram the Wallbreaker x Orichalcum/Ori Heartless Madness

White Scars Nogai Sengik x Хонгор I wanna be your slave

Space Wolves Captain Arkyn Joriki x Elskling War Wife

Volak x husband Algir x gn partner Baldun x wife Olgus x husband Svat x wife Rune Priest Odus x wife Hvold x wife Seven Brides for Seven Brothers

Imperial Fists Astel Redlane x Mouse The Spider Suite

Night Lords Ghosk Sevyrarek x Rabbit Run Rabbit Run

Anrir Nor x Caretaker Pastel Bats Sleeping Fields

Blood Angels Sirus Amah x Moonlight Your Blood is like Heaven to me The right shade of red

Iron Hands Vauth Marlos Marlos Vauth x Byte Automat Ozone Logic Bomb (Bispecsual)

World Eaters Zul Gospod x Spaseniye Peace of Mind

Ultramarines Tulio Sydo x Psychi/Psychoula Courage and Honor A Nymph by the river Just under the skin Gift from thevoidscreams Thundering call Clothes stealing pregnancy edition Jealous Tulio Loyalty Swap: Superbeast

Death Guard Solos Phorgur the Reaper x Lovie Toxic Love

Thousand Sons Nakht Rhan x Birdie Bye Bye Birdie

Black Legion/Luna Wolves Zhur Painbane x Dolli Quest Glaubenskraft (DD:DNE Rape) Early morning sex

Garviel Loken x ??? ???

Word Bearers Jihias Kinreaver x Lamb Sacrament of Sin

Salamanders Nubin Orenn x Bev To'ken Aishite Aishite Aishite (DD:DNE Incestous Language) Aishite Aishite Aishite (alternative)

??? Tears of a Dragonheart

Raven Guard Sor Delyn/Kazi Delax/Moremo Klaek x Dove Just Let us Adore You Love You Like a Love Song What if Dove was nervous

Alpha Legion Keeper Alpharius? x Vixen Skyfall You know my Name

Black Templars Brother Roland Lichtner x Bäckerin Venom of Venus Rein Raus Bun in the Oven Du riechst so gut Roland Penance

Carcaradons Tyberos the Red Wake x Ophelia The Red Tithe

Crimson Fist Pedro Kantor x ???

Astral Claws/Red Corsairs Huron Blackheart x ???

Mechanicus 91-Yrac x H3X/sweetspark The Savant

Adeptus Custodes Initial thoughts Golden Palace of the Dead

Constantin Valdor x Shard of the Emperor (Female) Sickeningly Sweet

Adonis x Smoothie To Fry an Egg

#Yandere #Yandere Space Marines #masterlist #Yandere Space Marine masterlist #Space Marines #warhammer 40k

[ranger-ribbons]

An idea: Power Ranger brainwashing recovery support group. From Tommy Oliver to Ollie Akana, there are a lot of people in this show who need it.

Tommy Oliver: Mighty Morphin Green, Mighty Morphin White, Dino Thunder Black

Karone: Lost Galaxy Pink

Merrick Baliton: Lunar Wolf

Ryan Mitchell: Lightspeed Titanium

Shane Clarke: Ninja Storm Red

Tori Hanson: Ninja Storm Blue

Dustin Brooks: Ninja Storm Yellow

Hunter Bradley: Thunder Storm Red/Crimson

Trent Fernandez Mercer: Dino Thunder White

Vida Rocca: Mystic Force Pink

Korrag: The Wolf Warrior

Kevin Yamamoto: Samurai Blue

Ollie Akana: Dino Fury Blue, Cosmic Fury Blue

~

They trickle in one by one.

The brainwashed, those under spells, the ones who were raised bad, lied to, cast aside. The ones who lost their memories or were fallen in battle and risen as evil. The ones who were tricked.

Tommy, as always, leads these meetings. He's there before any of them. Karone slips in after him, sitting prim and proper in her seat as she texts her magni, "treasure," literally translated. Merrick follows her, sitting cross-legged on the couch and fiddling with the collar of the silver jacket he wears. Then comes Ryan Mitchell, his ring flashing in the meager light and eyes angry, looking around pissed off as if asking for a fight. Tommy makes sure to pay close attention to the demon-raised man.

Following Ryan, the Ninja Storm Rangers - Red, Blue, and Yellow. The pair bring with them an electric feeling, like a storm was on the rise, just waiting to happen. Next comes Trent, breathing deeply to calm himself down, the White kisses his girlfriend goodbye at the door and sends her off, looking like he'd rather go with her. Tommy keeps a special eye on him as well.

After Trent, Vida Rocca charges in. She wears a new pink choker, her only allowance to her color, the rest of her outfit is varying shades of black, white, and grey. On Vida's heels comes Leanbow, the Wolf Warrior, among the oldest of the Power Rangers. Right at the start time, Kevin Yamamoto comes in, calm and poised as any samurai Tommy has ever met. And five minutes later, in trails their newest member, Ollie Akana.

"Are we missing anyone?" Tommy asks after another five minutes.

Karone shakes her head. As Tommy’s assistant in Jason and Billy's absence, it's her job to keep track of the topics and make sure everyone who wants to speak gets a chance.

Tommy nods. "Alright," he says. "Let this session start, then. Where did we stop last time?"

Karone checks her notes. "Hunter Bradley was talking about his time on the island trying to kill his brother."

Tommy glances at the Ninja Rangers. Shakes shakes his head. "Hunter and Blake went to visit their grandmother. She got really sick."

"Well, alright. Before we get into it, let's welcome our newest member, Ollie Akana."

Ollie looks up, startled. When all eyes turn to him, he waves awkwardly. Ollie is intelligent, like Billy and Justin, so Tommy’s not shocked to see his less than stellar social skills. "Hi," Ollie says, faux casual.

"Introduce yourself?" Tommy offers.

Ollie swallows before nodding. "I'm Ollie," he says unnecessarily. "I'm Dino Fury and Cosmic Fury Blue. I guess I'm here for support? I don't really know."

Tommy nods. "It's okay, man, we've all been there. If you want to talk about it today, we'll listen."

Ollie thinks about it for a second, but ultimately shakes his head. "Not today," he says. His voice is devastated. Tommy knows how he feels.

"Alright," Tommy replies. He moves on, so the spotlight is off Ollie. "Ryan, you wanna kick us off?"

Ryan looks up, eyes like molton steel, and nodded. "Yeah," he replies. "We found a straggler a few days ago. I knew this one personally. He tried to beg for mercy, talking about all the 'great times' we'd had together." Ryan scoffs, one arm around his waist. "I don't think he understood just how much those great times actually hurt. Sucks."

Tommy nods. "I understand," he replies. "It's rough meeting the people we once considered friends before."

Vida raises a hand. "Some of the Briarwood folk still look at me like I'm gonna sprout fangs and eat them. Others wish I'd go back," she explains. Turning to Ryan, she adds, "It's never easy, is it?"

Ryan shakes his head. "Sometime, when they aren't paying attention, the Lightspeed Rangers will flinch like they expect me to hit them," he replies. "Hurts being only seen as the guy who got raised by demons."

Karone hums sympathetically. "Or the daughter of evil," she adds in.

"Your Red is you brother, right?" Ryan asks. "He the only one that doesn't look at you like you're gonna snap at any second?"

Karone nods, shifting closer. Tommy allows the group to keep talking, only speaking up when the conversation allows. This is what this group is for: to allow the various brainwashed Rangers to commiserate and share their pain. Tommy turns his attention to the newest Blue. He walks over and sits next to the twenty year old, the youngest of his team. "Hey," he says.

Ollie startles again, looking up. "Hi, Doctor Oliver," he replies.

Tommy smiles. "Just Tommy," he asks. "Only my students call me doctor."

Ollie nods in acceptance.

Tommy sobers and continues, "I know you're not ready to talk about it, but one day, it's gonna hit you hard that you almost killed the people you love. It's gonna hit fast and it's gonna hit soon." He reaches into his pocket and produces his business card. "When it happens," he says, "call me. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Ollie takes the care hesitantly with shaking hands. He looks up at Tommy with wide eyes, then nods. "Thanks," he replies.

Tommy smile again. "'S what I'm here for."

~

@softlytowardthesun Thank you!

#power rangers #mighty morphin power rangers #power rangers lost galaxy #power rangers wild force #power rangers lightspeed rescue #power rangers ninja storm #power rangers dino thunder #power rangers mystic force #power rangers samurai #power rangers cosmic fury #ask #mutuals #softlytowardthesun #thanks sun! #tommy oliver #power rangers karone #merrick baliton #ryan mitchell #shane clarke #tori hanson #dustin brooks #trent fernandez mercer #vida rocca #power rangers leanbow #power rangers kevin #ollie akana #mad writes

[4seasonsofart]

A True Warrior

(Thors x Healer Reader)

Gender neutral but the word wife is used in accordance to the reader. Typical misogynistic themes of olden times.... Thors before he became a true warrior so settle down—that's why he seems out of character.

Steel meets steel, flesh on flesh, and blood of blood scattered on the ancient grounds of god's. The battleground wages on despite any protests from the heavens. The gods are too far away to warn their creations. The Earth is too far away from the paradise they crave.

The sunlight is blocked by the violent crowd of clouds that thunder in support of the fighting below. One after another, soldiers fall to the ground like rag dolls. They crumple under the weight of the indomitable Jomsvikings. They move as not individual people but as a force of nature.

Two young and promising fighters that emit a dark and vicious bloodlust tear through the field like lions on lamb. One is a blonde that stands at a staggering seven feet seven high with two twin battle axes and hazel eyes that scream for a need for battle. The other is like a silent predator that cuts through flesh with his steel borne of others blood. His eyes are empty and lifeless, the brown dulled and mixed with the crimson red of his enemies. His black hair strands are pulled back to keep them out of his face as he searches. He is stalking. He is ready. He wants to find them. No... needs.

He was promised a wife, and that wife he shall have. To have his own future bride killed in a battle such as this would be a great shame. He would never allow such shame to fall on the shoulders of the great Jomsviking chieftain. Sigvaldi, the man who has given him someone to be able to pass on his legacy to. That is something that can never be repaid, but through the service of his battles.

His sword cuts through another lamb of sacrifice as he searches for what he was promised. He looks through the thicket of soldiers and spots the one he was looking for. He moves quickly, almost like a shadow. The enemy soldiers scream in terror and pray that being cut down by him means a chance at Vahalla. His blonde comrade joins him, Thorkell the Tall; he seems giddy to just be in a war.

He comes upon a figure a lot smaller than he, one that has fresh bruises on their body and bandages in their hands, as they patch up a foreign soldier. Thors waves off Thorkell, and he begrudgingly listens. He stalks off back into the heart of the battlefield like a child, just deprived of a toy. Thorkell occasionally glances back at Thors and the child of Sigvaldi, a strange light in his eyes as he does. Although it disappears as soon as it comes, he goes back to his slaughter.

Thors sticks his sword through the heart of the foreign soldier while his future bride stares in horror. His brows furrow as his passive gaze turns into a demonic glare. He takes his sword out of the soldier's corpse with ease. He points his sword at your throat.

"You are the child of Sigvaldi? What is the meaning of this madness? I should cut you down right now for acting like such a disgrace on the battlefield." He states in an enraged manner as his pale complexion slightly tints with exasperation.

He watches as your expression of shock turns into irritation as you so disrepectably stand against him. In less time than it takes to blink, Thors is holding your wrist within his grasp. His grasp is so tight that your bones must be getting ground into dust. You do your best not to wince as you immediately regret your rash action.

"I am your future husband, and you choose to try to slap me? First, the disrespect to battle, and now the disrespect to me." He holds back any violence against his future partner as he releases the grasp on your wrist and slices another soldier's neck.

"I am a healer! You just killed my patient! A man, woman, child, or gender non-conforming person deserves to be healed and treated with respect!" You shriek out angrily as tears spring from your glistening eyes and heavy heart.

"The enemy deserves death." Thor states in a passive tone as his calloused fingers dig into the handle of his sword. "You do as well if you are helping those we war against." No trace of emotion is heard in his voice. It is as if Odin created him from an ancient rock—unmoveable and uncaring.

You shake your head heavily as you realize who he is: Thors, the Troll of Jom. Your father is making you wed against your will. If he tells your father that you have been sneaking off the battlefield, you will be greatly punished. Still, this man, the one with no emotion in his eyes—how is he to care for you?

"What enemy?" You asked through cracked vocal inflections as you watched the battle around you. Savages seek each other's blood. Families and lives are being torn apart by the mere strings of fate that hold them together. The mothers and children will no longer have husbands or fathers. The shield maidens may never see their lovers again. "All I see is innocent blood being spilt."

"You are foolish—not fit to be the child of such a highly esteemed chieftain. If you are to be married to me, I expect the submission that is seen between a master and a slave."

"How dare you—" Before another word is able to leave your mouth, a sharp blow comes to your head. An angry shout is heard as the heat of the battle is so close to you that it is practically breathing on you. You feel a certain fuzziness rise in your veins.

The impossibly gentle touch that only a mother would be able to provide is wrapped around your body. You cuddle into the new sensation as the throbbing of your head slowly dulls. Your body relaxes, and all sounds but the faint crackling of a fire can be heard. A soft thump next to you is felt as your shoulder is brutally shaken.

"Up." Thors grating voice commands.

A mellow whine escapes your throat as your peace is broken and your consciousness slowly returns. You bring your hand up to your head swiftly as a yelp leaves your chapped lips. Your fingers ghost the bandages wrapping around your head as your entire right arm is littered with violet-blue splotches of bruised artistry. You blink the rest of the weariness from your eyes as your gaze settles on your room. The gentle lull of the fireplace, the mountain of furs you always wrap yourself in while sleeping, and the enigmatic way the wood wraps around the walls of the cabin to create this space.

Your eyes land on the slightly discontented but mostly hardened expression on your future husband's features. You avert your eyes out of instinct. It felt as if he was trying to see not just the inside of your soul but also the insides of your mind.

You scan the new cloth laid upon you while in your slumber: your regular shift dress was placed on you with new embroidery and a soft white color. Wrapping around your head is a crown of flowers with soft golden hues. A wedding arm band sits on your left arm with intricate runes only the most talented of craftsmen could make.

"We were married in your slumber. Now, as I said, up." Thors commands again. As if you were some tamed wolf that he expected to obey his every whimsy.

"I could divorce you and kill you if I wanted. It's in the Viking code." You blurt out hastily as the panic rises from your stomach into your aching throat.

Thors stands up without a sound as that same piercing glare enters your heart again. "Then do it." He states in a haughty tone as he releases his sword from its constraints. "Disgrace both of our families and end my bloodline if you so wish."

He drops his most prized possession in your lap as he makes no move against you. A single moment passes as his eyes keep their dull demeanor. His courage and hardened expression do not lighten in the slightest as your exhausted arms wield the sword. You tenderly lean the tip of the sword against his veiny neck as he slightly tenses.

Your anger wavers as your febleness takes root within you. You release the sword as it carelessly clatters onto the ground around you. You refuse to meet his callous gaze as your eyes drift towards the fallen piece of metal. The thing that has helped him slay so many. The thing that has caused an unknown amount of pain and strife.

"I can't."

"I know." A single moment passes, and then another. He seems to have lost interest in you as he turns around and begins walking off. "That's why you will never truly be my wife. You're weak."

Somewhere far away, the Norns mourn over your fate. The heavens cast their pity upon the husband for whom you have been fated. His steps are like stabs into your already fragile heart. That's the day it stopped beating.

For: @bjornslove and @atruewarrior

#vinland saga #there will be a part 2 #angst #thors #thors vinland saga #thors x reader #thors x you #reader insert #gender neutral insert #term wife used gender neutrally #vikings #multi part fic

[blazingstaro]

DotS Character Facts— Galaxia

The legendary blade, Galaxia— Sword of Thunder!

This mythical sword was forged by ancient sun-celestials in a bygone age, a world now forgotten. A weapon with sentience, enough to judge its wielder's worth of character and morals.

Throughout the ages, she has passed by a small number of hands, the most famous currently being Sir Meta Knight of the Stars. Not only is she a sword of great power, she also has gained great wisdom and life experience by being the companion of many a warrior. Especially her previous owner, the famous Knight King Orpheus, whom she grew alongside and gained a tight friendship with.

Galaxia has two sides to her personality: a formal, regal, mystical being who speaks with articulate vocabulary and grace. And then there is British aunt without a filter. The latter is reserved for those whom she is most familiar with, such as Meta Knight— to whom she acts as a mentor, companion, and nagging mom-friend. The former is for whomever manages to survive touching her for long enough to hold a conversation, should they have the strength to wield her might.

She has a mildly rambunctious personality, and is capable of being devilishly flirtatious if need be. (Thanks Orpheus) She has many clever means to test a holder of her blade.

Galaxia has the unique ability to channel the energies and abilities of her wielder. Though, of course, she's strongly associated with Plasma, so she is most attune to Fire and Spark type elements, but can channel anything else too if necessary. She compliments Meta Knight's elemental Tricks with this skill.

She's capable of hearing and seeing through the crimson gem on her hand guard, but also has the ability to tap into her master's eyes for a better view.

Scarily enough, she can use her electricity to puppet her master's body in times of dire need. She's not fond of doing it, but if it means her master may survive, then she'll do it. It's only ever initiated with permission.

Having existed alongside incredible figures of history, both ancient and modern, she has a deep index of information on most everything in the Galaxy, and hundreds of people. The one downside is that she only knows about as much as her wielders do, since she's bound to their hip most of the time.

The only other issue is that nobody can hear her voice unless they're in contact with her, either by handle, gem, and so forth. So she doesn't have the opportunity to chat with others often, and so Meta Knight is often subjected to listening to her gabble or complain about a person he's interacting with. Mainly because she's comfortable talking to him so casually.

Galaxia and Meta Knight share an asshole best friend relationship, and it's great. He's grateful to have a wise partner, and someone he can keep his snarking skills sharp with. That and Galaxia does tend to mother him sometimes too, which bugs him a lot, but he can't complain since she knows the he's an orphan.

We'll get to learn more about Galaxia in both DotS:MMM and DotS' main story...

#galaxia #galaxia kirby #hoshi no kirby #kirby series #kirby #lore time #lore dump #long post #dreams of the stars #kirby fanart #meta knight #dots comic #dots:mmm

[jadegretz]

Aayla Secura: Jedi Warrior by Jade Gretz

In the dimly lit corridors of a forgotten temple, Aayla Secura, the graceful Jedi Knight, found herself surrounded by an eerie silence that seemed to swallow every sound she made. Her senses, honed by years of training and battles, tingled with anticipation, warning her of the imminent danger lurking in the shadows.

A flicker of movement caught her attention, and Aayla spun around, her azure lightsaber igniting with a hiss, casting an ethereal glow in the darkness. Three figures emerged from the obscurity, their crimson lightsabers humming ominously as they advanced towards her. Sith Lords, their malevolent presence sending shivers down her spine.

Aayla braced herself, her heart pounding in her chest as she prepared to face the dark trio. They circled her like predators, their eyes gleaming with malice, relishing the prospect of the imminent confrontation. But Aayla remained undaunted, her determination unwavering as she met their gaze with steely resolve.

With a sudden burst of speed, the Sith attacked, their blades slashing through the air with lethal precision. Aayla leaped and twirled, her movements fluid and graceful as she deflected their strikes, each clash of lightsabers echoing through the silent temple like thunder.

The battle raged on, the combatants locked in a deadly dance of blades and shadows. Aayla fought with all her skill and strength, drawing upon the Force to guide her every move. She could feel its energy coursing through her veins, empowering her with an otherworldly strength that fueled her determination to emerge victorious.

But the Sith were relentless, their attacks coming fast and furious, testing Aayla's endurance to its limits. She parried and dodged, her senses heightened to the slightest shift in their movements, anticipating their strikes with uncanny precision.

As the battle reached its climax, Aayla found herself pushed to the brink of exhaustion, her muscles aching and her breath coming in ragged gasps. But she refused to yield, drawing upon the last reserves of her strength as she launched a final, desperate assault against her foes.

With a series of lightning-fa …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

#ai #aiart #digitalart #jadegretz #fantasyart #fanart #beautifulgirl #aiartwork #aiartcommunity #aayla #aaylasecura #jedi #starwarsart

[sculptorofcrimson]

Without Him

The Custodes, the perfect and the golden, aren’t they just beautiful? 

Aren’t they just a horrifying, broken concept to hyperfixate on?

Brought to life by the breathe of a half-god, created for nothing but the weight of your duty and knowing nothing but adoration for the Emperor, feeling nothing but overwhelming obedience when you gaze upon Him, and nothing but lasting emptiness when you gaze inside. He walks among you, He orders and commands and you obey, all is well, all is as it should you, with the servants plodding along the Master’s orders. Obeying His every whims, all is well, all is right. 

You are perfect. You are golden. You are glorious and you are hollow and you are filled with nothing but the shadow of His glory. The truth lies as barren as snowbeaten rock. He hollowed you out, and now He shall breathe life into your senseless corpse. What are you? What are you but the dregs of His dream? What are you without His last dying gasp rattling through your bones? 

Do you even have a will? Are you even human anymore - less- are you even living, when life itself has been drained of all honor? What are you, when you can’t even dream for yourself? What have you for ambition, when you cannot even fathom a dream? 

And the bite of betrayal. The cracklings of heresy. You are broken. You are hollow. You are imperfect. You have failed. The truth lies as barren as flesh flayed bone. The first, unhidden, beautiful, horrifying breath of freedom, the first tears to fall as you screamed for a dead master. As He fell, as you failed, as He died. The first breaking of the cycle. A servant without a master, a perfect creation out of tune, with its core snapped out, its tubes cracked, its broken machinery on display. The Throne is hollow now. The Palace is empty. The Master’s house has been broken by the Master’s tools. 

You have failed. You have failed Him. You have forsaken your duty. 

You have broken your oaths.

What does it feel like, to dream? To dream in the shadow of obedience? To dream as the Thunder Legionnes Primarch dreamed so long ago, to dream as the High Lord dreamt so long ago, to dream as the Astartes once dreamt before you snuffed them out? What does it even feel like, to hurt, to pain, to suffer for anyone else? What does it even feel like to mourn, captain-general? Can you even remember?

The truth lies as hollow as your king’s decaying bones. How fragile. How despicable. Decaying. Covered in dust. Ruined. Broken and abused. Would you wish to dream? Do you wish to embrace what it feels like to be flawed again, to know how to live, if even it was for a moment, in a flare of agony from death to death, siphoning and leeching scant moments of humanity from the haft of the Apollonian Spear as you taste the lie seeping out of broken limbs? Feeling the last sediments of agony, of sensation, slipping through a sinking mind mired in ash, seeing the moments of another worthless man’s life flash through your hollow mind, filling you with memories that were never yours and could never be, watching what have been robbed, stolen, forever lost to you now? And just what perversion of a dream is that, Constantin Valdor? 

Would you have taken the bargain, if you had know the price?

Do you even care anymore? 

Damned together now. Damned together in failure. You failed Him, and He died. He died, and you failed. You left Him behind when He fell and you didn’t, when you failed to trade your life for His as any loyal servant should have. In that, you were broken, and He abandoned you when He died ten thousand years ago. The grieving remnants of your Order was left behind, their silence as fragile as a wailing beast’s grovellings, and you left them. Those servants, who were made to love Him, who never knew if He loved them back yet ached for it. The oldest bond between Master and Slave, now broken. 

(Is there forgiveness? Can there ever be atonement for the crime of your failure?)

Do you ever wonder anymore, in the absence of His light? Do you ever, tentatively at first, retracing memories He wiped out, a mind too ravaged to even pain exploring a past He burned to oblivion, wondering what you were, wondering what you could’ve been. Reliving memories with perfect recall yet broken understanding, those conversations with the Cataegis, the screams in the frost, the simple horror of the betrayal. Do you resent them, for being what you could not? For having what you, and your brethren, in all their perfection, could never achieve? Did you even have the privilege of knowing resentment?

Do you hate them for being better at living, at being human, instead of eking out an existence without substance, an immortality without life? Do you hate the way they looked up in reverence, do you loathe their conviction, their justice, the way they trusted so blindly in their own foolish, naive, ignorant, human way, when they loved Him, and felt His wrath? 

The Primarchs you sentenced to death on Ararat. They looked at you with such hollowness burned into their gaze, knowing they’re here to be slain, knowing you’re here to kill them, knowing they - the Judas lamb - had led their troops here to die and be slaughtered. Do you resent them too? Can you know resentment? Some had fought against you. Some had raged, screamed against the dying of the light. One, even, had escaped. But the worst just looked on, with those sickeningly human eyes, in simple, broken and numb horror as their world dissolved, as they cried out for unity and heard the blade fall. Do you resent them too? Do you resent them, for you could never resent what you’ve done, for He would not let you? 

(A tool that loathes its own sacrifice is no tool at all. You may not love the slaughter, but you no longer have the right to hate it. Kill for Him. Kill for Him, it is what good hunting hounds do.)

Do you even regret the bones upon the snow? 

You failed. And the brokenness will never leave.

Do you even know hate anymore? Can you even hate anymore? Has that too been eroded? Do you hate for Him, do you hate what you have accomplished, do you hate the man you could have been but never was? For he could have been a better servant, a better man, a better captain-general, if only He had given him the right to dream? 

You failed. You failed, and now the leash you’ve lived under for so long is broken, the chains are shattered, the Order has crumbled into ruins. They live on, but how could the body do any more than endure when its heart - its mind - has been ruptured, its primal arteries torn away, left with nothing else than to preserve its bones for eternity? 

What of your lost brothers? Do you ever wonder what they could have been, if you had not fetched them from weeping mothers and brought them before your lord to be turned into His tools? Do you regret? Have you ever cared at all?

You are perfect. You are broken. You are the Custodes, and ten thousand years ago you failed. Your brethren failed the Emperor. You were built to serve a god, not until even you die, but until even eternity burns out, until the foundations of civilization crumble, and kings and emperors decay. You were perfect, once, but there was a flaw in His design. He could not have tolerated true perfection, if not for His own. He does not err, He desecrates, as He has desecrated the holy texts when He built His angels. 

You are not perfect. He built you to be flawed. He built you without a dream, without even a mind of your own, without even the will to question or care, without even the hate to ponder and rage against such a cruel existence. He built you without pain, without even loss, with nothing but an eternity of trudging onwards for scraps of His love. 

But what happens now? What happens now when you have failed so utterly in your duty? What happens now when His love is no more, but your obsession no less painful, your existence no less empty? What happens now when the part He ripped away and replaced with Himself is hollowed out again, when nothing is left behind but a gaping wound where a heart once was? What happens now, when the servants no longer have a king?

#wh40k #warhammer 40k #sculptor of crimson #constantin valdor #warhammer #adeptus custodes #wh40k writing prompts #emperor of mankind #thunder warriors

[colibrie]

Day 7 (Follows Day 6 and Day 4): Made to Watch, "Can you hear me?"

"You heroes are so moronically predictable," the blade master drawled, biceps bulging beneath the crimson mesh of his uniform he crossed his arms, head shaking patronizingly as his underlings fought to pin the Hero down. "It's a little sad if I am being honest. The tiniest hint of peril, and you throw yourself into the chasm without a second thought. How your lot ever managed to defeat our magnificent Lord Ganon eludes me."

"It eluded him too, right up until I split his monstrous face open," Wild snarled, grunting in pain when one of the foot soldiers served swift retribution to his words with a swift backhand.

"Our divine lord is the monster? When your goddess is the one sending children to fight her battles?!"

Rage hotter than the lava's of Death Mountain surged in his view, flooding his mouth with savage copper as the blade master delivered a casual kick to the tiny, twitching body at his feet. Wind made no sound at the rough treatment, no protest or cry of pain, just a soft gasp as the kicks momentum flipped him onto his back. Their sailor skin was pallid and sickly looking, his sun bleached locks darkened and matted to his head with with sweat and sand. Hazy blue orbs flickered in and out of view beneath nearly closed lids, limbs shaking with residual tremors as roots of lightning disappeared under his tattered tunic. Wilds felt his heart shatter at the ragged little breaths that struggled to lift their youngest's chest, split lips crusted with blood and bile open in an unconscious attempt to pull in more oxygen.

"You have me, let him go!"

"No," the Yiga replied, voice laced with poisonous satisfaction as he casually planted one boot on Winds chest, arms unfolding to reach back and draw his windcarver. "No, I am going to make you watch him die. We'll take you back to HQ, and you will watch as we track down and kill every last hero in your little party. You'll watch us master the time portals, and then, I will personally kill you and present all of your heads to the dark lord as a gift to his resurrection."

The bleeding eye on the behemoths mask nearly glowed with glee as he slowly raise his sword, savoring the struggles of one prey, and the deathly stillness of the other.

"For Ganon..."

Thunder roared from the clear blue sky, and the blademaster slowly fell back, his dead body barely making a sound as it hit the sand. The foot soldiers scattered as a wave of Gerudo warriors surged across the sand behind their seals, ululating war cries as they ran their foe's down. A smaller group split off, shields and limbs flying as they sprinted towards their fallen friends.

"Wild! Wind!"

"He need's help!" Wild croaked, wincing as his injuries made themselves known.

"You both do. Lets start with your head! What the hell were you thinking going off on your own?" Sky snapped, rare anger flaring bright in his eyes as steadied Wilds shoulders.

"Sky, if you wanna tear him a new one, wait until we get back to Gerudo town and then get in line," Twilight growled, knocking his forehead against Wild's temple as he pressed his hands down on a particularly jagged gash.

"Wind," Wild whimpered, cornflower eyes locked on the huddle of bodies around their youngest.

"Sailor, can you hear me?!" Warriors asked, voice full of the force calm he used when trying to maintain a disordered battle field. "Wake up buddy."

"Signs of dehydration. Pulse is fast and uneven, breathing is shallow...and I've got multiple electrical burns," Legend stated, voice and face tight with forced blankness. "Based on the patterns, the sick bastards must have used shock arrows."

"Potions aren't an option. I don't think we can get him to drink anything with the way his muscles are spasming," Time added, his larger body dwarfing Winds as hands steadied the pirates neck.

"What about finding a fairy?" Hyrule chimed in, pink light coating his hands as he swiftly pressed them to Winds chest.

"He doesn't have time for us to hunt for one," Four shook his head, purple eyes hard as he leaned back and whistled for one of the nearby seals. "We need to get back to Gerudo town, now."

#linked universe #angst fairy writes #linked universe wind #linked universe wild #linked universe legend #linked universe four #linked universe time #linked universe sky #linked universe twilight #linked universe hyrule #linked universe warriors #linked universe yiga #gerudo desert #wild made a poor life choice #wind didn't get to make any choices #background riju mastering the thunderhelm

[darksaiyangoku]

Crows cawed as they flew across the grey skies. The leaves of the Emerald Forest blew in the wind. Above the sea of trees stood a tall, white and silver castle.

Ozpin: Beacon. It was once a kingdom of great prosperity. The lands flourished and there was joy in the air... until the day the king died.

Gris: My poor brother. Too weak and unworthy for the throne. Don't you worry. Beacon will emerge from the ashes stronger than ever.

The doors open and an army of knights rode out, armed with swords. Many small villages were raided and destroyed. Houses were burned down and the people were thrown onto the streets.

Ozpin: Gris was a ruthless tyrant, whose cruelty knew no bound. He betrayed his brother and usurped the throne, leading Beacon to ruin. All hope seemed lost. But wherever there is evil, good will always rise up to put an end to it. The sword in the stone lies dormant, awaiting its destiny, awaiting for a saviour, awaiting the true king.

🎵They see you as small and helpless.

They see you as just a child.

Surprise when they find out that a warrior will soon run wild.🎵

[Arc House]

Jaune: *grabs leaflet* It says here that there's a tournament to determine a new king of Beacon. Whoever pulls the sword out of the stone will be the victor.

[Tournament Stage]

Pyrrha: Hiyaaah! *beats knight*

🎵Prepare for your greatest moments

Prepare for your finest hour

The dream that you've always dreamed is suddenly about to flower.🎵

[Emerald Forest]

Jaune: Haaaaa!!! *punches tree* Ha! Ha! HA! HAAAAA!!!

Ozpin: This boy may be our only hope.

🎵We are lightning🎵

Yang: *raises fists* Sorry, scruffy, but no one's getting past me.

Jaune: *draws sword* Bring it on, bandit!

🎵Straying from the thunder🎵

Blake: You think you have what it takes to be a knight? *kicks Jaune*

Jaune: Agh!!

Blake: *pulls his hair* You. Aren't. Ready.

🎵Miracles of ancient wonder🎵

Jaune: *stands up and puts a wrap round his head* I can feel it. The sword, it's... *clenches fist* calling to me.

🎵This will be the day we've waited for

This will be the day we open up the door🎵

Ren: RAAAAAH!!! *charges at Cardin*

Cardin: YAAAAAAH!!! *charges at Ren*

🎵I don't wanna hear your absolution

Hope you're ready for a revolution?🎵

Weiss and Pyrrha fight with their swords, while Yang blocks Nora's hammer strikes.

Nora: SMAAAAASH!!!!!

🎵Welcome to a world of new solutions

Welcome to a world of bloody evolution🎵

Jaune and Sun engage in a deadly battle, sword against staff. Each of them parrying each others strikes. They're an even match.

🎵In time, your heart will open minds

A story will be told🎵

DarkSaiyanGoku Pictures Presents

🎵And victory is in a simple soul!🎵

JNPR: Excalibur Kingdom

A knight in red and black armour stands on a cliffside, her crimson cape flowing in the wind. In her hand, she carries a scythe.

Directed by Taiyang Xiao Long

#rwby #rwby au #rwby fanon #rwby oc #team jnpr #team rwby #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #pyrrha nikos #lie ren #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #ozpin #king arthur #arthurian legend #parody #trailer parody

[tgrailwar-zero]

This was the first time that you had used the stroke of a Command Spell in this context. It was an odd feeling. It didn't seem painful, though you could see CONSTANTINE tense a bit, his own will and actions being suppressed under a geyser of concentrated mana.

He took a breath, nodding his head.

CONSTANTINE: "…Very well. If that is your resolve, then so be it."

[ You've used a Command Spell! CONSTANTINE will have a harder time going against your orders now! ]

KUKULKAN spoke up.

KUKULKAN: "If you're done, we have to continue onward. Like you said, we've spent enough time here as-is."

CONSTANTINE: "…Right. Let's be off."

There was less conversation on that topic than you expected. It seemed like he really did concede to whatever choice you made, and left it at that. He was your Servant, and was acting as such.

The two continued forth, the trek remaining uneventful until grass turned to stone, and stone turned to metal as you approached the Crimson Citadel.

Though… it didn't just seem like a 'Citadel' anymore.

It was an entire city.

You could see NPCs and Attack Programs marching back and forth, protecting them. It felt both authoritative and yet sheltering, like the cover of an overbearing parent. Nothing about it seemed malicious, simply 'intense'.

KUKULKAN: "This is something else… was it always like this, Constantine?"

CONSTANTINE: "A lot has changed in the few days I was gone. This is almost a completely different area."

As CONSTANTINE and KUKULKAN gawked, a voice called out to them.

???: "Impressive, right? Or is it more 'cool'?"

With deft movements and a high jump, a figure landed in front of KUKULKAN and CONSTANTINE.

A young woman with blonde hair and shining armor and weaponry stood before them.

BRADAMANTE: "Hello, Interloper Masters and Servants. And welcome back, Rider. I am the Bouclier Saber, Bradamante. His Majesty was already made aware of your presence as soon as you stepped into his Noble Phantasm, Carolus Patricius. Welcome to the future of the Solar Cell."

That name… 'Carolus Patricus'. That Noble Phantasm could only belong to one man. SABER was...

CHARLEMAGNE.

Charles the Great. Karl der Große. A grand ruler of both fact and fiction, focused in his actions, devout in his faith, and known throughout the world as the man who unified Western Europe. As a Servant, he would be a man of incredible power and renown.

The fact that one of his warrior so freely gave his True Name at this point was a show of absolute strength and confidence.

KUKULKAN: "Ah, so that's what I'm sensing~! This place has a high 'Civilization Level'! This 'Charlemagne' must be an expert!"

CONSTANTINE: "This is certainly something, but he's but one Servant. To hold up a Noble Phantasm such as this would require a tremendous amount of magical energy."

BRADAMANTE: "You don't recognize it? He's drawing power from the Keys held by the former Interloper Servants. With the proper authority, he was able to wring out enough magical energy from four keys. The Key of the Thunderous Berserker, The Key of the Pious Caster, The Key of the Blooming Foreigner, and the Key of the Shining Rider."

KINTOKI. DANTE. VAN GOGH. MANDRICARDO...

The paladin continued to speak, beaming with pride.

BRADAMANTE: "By combining strength, piety, creativity, and fortitude, such a miracle could be created. To turn the Origin War, a moment of destruction and chaos, into a tool of creation. This is the power of the Interlopers combined with the will of the Solar Cell, the might of King Charlemagne!"

So that was another use for the Trigger Keys… at least the ones belonging to your Servants. Utilizing the remaining magical energy in order to enhance one's abilities… though you feel as if that was less of a common capability, and instead something forced about through some form of Imperial Privilege.

There may be more to this than just 'drawing power from the keys'.

Nonetheless, this was a bit more than expected. Based on what PRETENDER had said, and CONSTANTINE's worries, they made it seem like SABER was on the back foot- but that seemed incorrect.

Those thoughts aside, BRADAMANTE's expression grew serious.

BRADAMANTE: "But now is time for you to state your reasons for being here. If you've come here for destruction, then I will have to battle you as a paladin. If you've come here for the sake of unity, then I will gladly let you pass. But be careful, even if you feel as if you can lie to me, His Majesty can see past any falsehoods."

#thgw: chapter 5 #thgw story #main post

[joeys-piano]

Heads Down, Seven Up

Aka, you show me yours and I show you mine. Aka, I share seven lines and you have the option of sharing yours. Tagged by @sparrow-orion-writes. I just finished a project, so I had to cook some new words.

My bad.

I'm well-aware the following is not seven sentences, so I'm breaking the rules because a lot of the sentences are short. This is a summary excerpt for an upcoming project about a royal coup, sword dancing, and saving a princess when you throw her a knife.

Year of the Rooster. Full moon. No an orange slice with a rind, the Heaven peels it from the flesh yet it refuses to even budge. The Spring Matsuri. The Shogun’s son, on his right hand—not his left, joins the golden roost of his father’s house. A preening bride beneath his wing. Then the binding. The oath. A crimson ribbon. Merry gods. A single sword bisecting Heaven as a dancer spins a kick. Amaterasu, the Great Queen, the Beloved Mother, sheds a blessing. She is the drums—thundering; the weave of red behind the hilt; the ornate mask; cloudless sky; the line of action striking thrice. A blatant message missed its mark. The dancer juts it through a traitor. And the haunting eyes of a warrior—of a demon—steal the sky.

Soft tagging: @kryptalia, @chenqing9, @gothamxwattpad, @anchestral, @heymacareyna, @thedeerwight, and any other persons of interest who'll like to play along and show you're writing.

#joey speaks #writeblr #writing community #am writing #blue eye samurai #bes