#-shipped with y'all would be losing your minds!' and then i lay on the ground alone

[finncakes]

would LOVE to hear more on ur fearne/fcg thoughts omg 👀

OH MAN. i honestly just like their dynamic a lot and i am a sucker for the roger rabbit/jessica rabbit kind of ships. fcg and the bad bitch they pulled by being silly. it won't happen though i know since fcg is a robot and for some reason that seems to always mean no romance :[

[systematicfailure]

Counting Days

Paring: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: You never had a reason to count days when you thought you still had all the time in the world.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, grief

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Wager a listen to Choke by OneRepublic while reading. Anyways, hope y'all enjoy.

You learn to start counting days once she’s gone.

The first few come and go in shock, the piece of you that refuses to believe the truth of it all, makes a second plate of breakfast in the morning and the several that follow. She was going to come back, you were sure of it. You just have to be patient.

Day thirteen is different from the ones before.

Time is precious and grief is suffocating, you finally realize - you feel foolish for never noticing. A more forgiving part of you rationalizes that there was no way of knowing how little of it you had but then the grief sets in, all encompassing - it latches onto your limbs, pulling you further away from the light she so easily brought you. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. The heroes won but if that was the case, then why did it feel like you just lost everything?

Your life turns into a series of maybes and what ifs. You recognize that you’re bargaining, trying so desperately to replay that day to find something to change or tweak, another path that leads her back to you. It hurts more than you care to admit but the record keeps spinning, and in between one alteration and another, you fall asleep in a bed that is now only yours.

You dream of her.

There’s a glimmer in her eyes and you hate that even in your dreams, you compare it to the dull, unseeing emeralds in the haunting dying embers of night. The image is fleeting as she turns slightly, rays of sunlight peeking through half open blinds, illuminating her features. A familiar smirk lays across her face, hands moving up to dust the bangs from her forehead.

“Staring is rather rude, you know?” She teases, a light chuckle touching the tip of her tongue.

“I just don’t want to forget.” Natasha quirks an eyebrow at your response. Shaking her head, she follows the movement of your frantic irises, a question rising in the way her mouth crinkles at the corners. You ignore it, standing up from the bed before closing the short distance to her. Nose tucking into her neck, you breathe in the underlying scent of cherry blossoms and tangerines. You know it's just a dream, know deep in your bones it’s not real but as your head cranes back, her eyes of worry tracing each inch of you, you let yourself believe, even for a moment, that when you wake up she’ll still be there.

She isn’t.

When you wake it’s unbearably dark. Your motions are sluggish as you stumble out of the confining sheets and down the elevator to the front entrance of the compound. A scream gains traction in your vocal chords, fighting its way past your lips as you throw your scorching body against the wet pavement outside. How many times were you going to do this? How many times were you going to lose her? How many more days? When was enough, enough? The second the thought surfaces, you feel selfish. The answer would always be the same.

As many times as it took. You freely put the shackles on because there ceases to be a day that exists where she’s not worth every last bit of this agony that swallows you whole.

You carefully right your position, drawing your aching chest into your knees and you remember her.

Dawn is on the horizon when you finally shuffle your weight off the ground. Shivering, you keep your eyes to the floor as you enter the kitchen. What remains of the Avengers linger at your reappearance but do not pose a question when you make two cups of coffee instead of one. They know it’s a habit you’re not quite ready to break yet. Vaguely, your head tilts their way as you exit. You don’t have enough left in you to do anything more.

When you reach your bedroom door, you falter. It’s still partially open from your earlier haste to get away and everything comes crashing down once again. Both ceramic mugs tumble to the concrete when you catch sight of the worn, brown leather jacket. It’s all too much and wholly not enough, rolled into one. You can’t take it anymore. Ghosts are chasing and nipping at your heels; the smell of her lingers in hallways and rooms, random items of clothing hanging in closets and lying atop of chairs, memories bombarding at every turn.

You need to leave, at least for a little while -- not forever but long enough.

A snarky fragment of your consciousness mocks you when you bring a box of her things, lamenting the irony of taking memories you’re trying to leave behind. You huff out loud in response, continuing to put it with the rest of your stuff anyways before shutting the trunk. The rest of the team waits patiently to bid their goodbyes. After over an hour, there’s only Clint left. You eye each other patiently, sizing the other up before identical, miserable grins stretch into place.

“Take care of yourself, yeah?” You say because you really, truthfully mean it. You don’t blame him, not anymore at least but you know a significant portion of himself always will. He gives you a barely perceptible nod, pain licking his eyes in a faint mist. Without hesitation, your arms wrap his shoulders, pulling him close. He seizes at the motion before returning the gesture ten-fold, the strength of it crushing the breath in your diaphragm.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers brokenly into your hair, fingers gripping your sides. Your body tightens around him in a squeeze as a response before you ease away from him. Tears gather and collect in his eyelashes, falling briefly but he’s quick to swipe them dry. A sigh escapes you then, long and drawn out as the backs of your cornea’s burn at the weight of all you both had lost. “As am I, Clint.”

When the compound fades from your rearview mirror, you finally loosen the captive hold you have on your sobs. They come out silent at first but it’s not long before you’re choking on each exhale, chest rattling with the force it takes to regain a semblance of oxygen in your caving lungs.

You think you might never be okay again and it terrifies you.

At first, roaming the world does help ease the ever persistent ache you feel. The days blur and melt together. You never stay in one place more than a week, the constant need to run as far as your legs can take you keeps the thoughts at bay. You avoid Ohio, taking a ship to Ireland instead. Eventually, you find yourself in Italy, in a small rural town with more hills than people but there’s a familiar voice in the back of your mind, prodding you to realize that you’re doing something wrong and you hate yourself for not figuring it out sooner.

You don’t remember when it happened but somewhere between leaving and now, you stopped counting. It’s a betrayal you had no idea you were capable of, it feels like forgetting and the last thing you want to do is forget her.

You force yourself to stop running and the ache you welcome back resembles coming home.

Finally, you visit Ohio. It's gut wrenching and painful but worth it in the end when you find them, her family. They tell you stories you won’t dare forget. You come to the conclusion that people are liars, grief does not lessen or fade, it just becomes more manageable to bear. Your soul is still hollow, ghosts don’t stop nipping at your heels but when you see her in your dreams, you tell her you’ll find her again, in another life, and you’ll get the happy ending you both deserve.

You don’t go back to New York.

You plant saplings in the fields of Ohio, by a house made for two, that you nurture with aging hands and you watch them flourish into breathtaking creatures of nature. Their limbs and branches stretched towards one another, forever intertwined.

You learn to love counting days, especially when it leads you back to her.

[spectraspecs-writes]

Leviathan - Chapter 105

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 104. Chapter 106

A/N: I've got a bunch of chapters typed but I can't post most of them just yet because I need to do a thing on my home computer, and work just started summer hours so I have less time at home than usual. So y'all are just gonna have to go with this one for a bit. Also, cool, tumblr's beta editor keeps the italics so I don't have to go in later and put them back.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @strangepostmiracle thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

——–

Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths. Walking through space was nerve-wracking, anxiety inducing. I am so glad to get the space suit off on the other end. To be someplace safe where I won’t end up in deep space if I fall.

Honestly? I’m not afraid of much, like I will throw myself into so many situations without batting an eye - caves, krayt dragon dens, spider pits, tombs, all that, it’s easy. But if I had to name one thing I am absolutely terrified of, it’s being in space. I’m fine in a ship, I’m fine looking out ship windows, but the idea of being in space not in a ship is my worst nightmare. It has been for as long as I can remember - I guess I read something as a kid about what the vacuum of space can do to a body and that was it. I can deal with all manner of creatures without losing my cool, but that spacewalk was one of the most horrifying moments of my life. Yet another way today has been the worst day of my life. And I’m beyond relieved that I won’t have to do it again on the way back to the hangar.

Carth can tell I’m not okay the moment I take my helmet off, but when he gives me an inquiring look, I just shake my head. Did I want to go out there? No. But we didn’t really have an option. I’m just glad, again, that we don’t have to do it a second time. I’d rather face Malak alone than walk through space again. I’ll be fine, I just need to take a moment before we go back to fighting things. Just to breathe.

Okay. Okay. Let’s go.

Five Sith troopers beyond the inner door. Spread out. And these guys mean business. They have heavy armor that I can’t just cut through with my lightsaber. I have to work my way through it, inch by grueling inch. Bastila whisks two of them into a Force whirlwind, which makes it all the easier to wear them down. But even then that leaves at least one that can strike at me from behind. Can’t I catch a break? Can I just catch one break today? Carth sees me struggling and distracts the one behind me while I take out the two dizzy ones. And when they’re down, I turn around to face the bastard who tried to get me while my back was turned.

I’m done. I am just so done with today. I’ve been tortured, I’m hungry, I’m tired, I’m a rolling ball of fear from the spacewalk, my entire body is sore. When all this is over with I am just going to fall asleep. The Star Map on Manaan will have to wait until tomorrow. With one swoop, I take off a trooper’s head. It is disgusting. Whatever. I’m done.

And that’s all fine. On to the Bridge.

Saul is standing there, waiting for us. Of course he could hear the commotion before we came in. He grins at us. Go to hell. “Very resourceful,” he says, and he looks at Carth, “I assume you had some part in this; you learned your lessons well from me.”

“The only thing you taught me was betrayal and death, Saul,” Carth says coldly.

I’m done. I’m just so done. “Look, if you’re going to fight us, can we skip the talking and just do it?”

“Don't be a fool,” Saul says, “I am giving you and your companions a chance to surrender. A chance to live.” Shut up. “Darth Malak himself is on his way, he will be arriving any moment.”

“He speaks the truth,” Bastila says, “I can feel the Dark Lord's presence approaching.”

“Malak will destroy you,” Saul says, “but if you throw down your weapons now I will ask my Master to be merciful.”

“I’ve seen enough of Sith mercy!” Carth shouts.

“You always did like to do things the hard way,” Saul says, shaking his head, “Lord Malak would have preferred live prisoners, but corpses will have to do.”

A long time ago, someone told me that intuition is just our unconscious mind processing things more quickly than our conscious mind. All the evidence we need to realize something is there all the time, we just aren’t always aware of it. Any hunch we have about something, any reads on a person or situation, all those feelings we can’t explain, that we dub as intuition or reading a room or whatever, is just our minds going faster than we realize. On the Bridge of the Leviathan, there are two Dark Jedi, four elite Sith troopers like the five earlier, and the admiral. Two of the troopers stick to laying down blaster fire, while the other two take on Bastila. Carth has all his focus on the admiral, as expected. The two Dark Jedi come for me. And I feel like somehow, I know them. Beneath the masks on their faces is a person that, somehow, I know. I don’t know how. Maybe I saw them for a moment on Dantooine, they had fallen while I was training. Maybe I saw them on Korriban, there were plenty of Dark Jedi coming and going from the Academy. Maybe I encountered them briefly as a scout. I don’t recall seeing any Jedi out there, but like I said, the unconscious mind picks up things the conscious mind just doesn’t. For a split second as they approach me, I feel a deep seated anger and resentment, but that fades quickly and is replaced by specific weaknesses. The one on the left has a glass shoulder. The one on the right favors his left side. I move quicker than I even realize at first. I use the Force to push the one on the left away, focusing the energy on his shoulder. As the second approaches, I swing out my leg and slam it into his left side. His lightsaber falls from his hand and hits the deck. I stab with mine before he hits the ground. The first Dark Jedi falls into the computer pit, and makes no movements to get up. I doubt he’s dead, but either way he’s not my problem anymore.

I have no idea how I knew any of that. No idea what I saw that told me that. But I guess there’s no time to think about that now. One of the elite troopers is behind me. I throw my lightsaber and it cuts through the armor on his side. He throws a plasma grenade. I grab it with the Force in midair and send it back to him. Flames from the explosion hit him through the gash in his armor. I bring both lightsabers down on him like an X. That’s one down.

As I turn back around another body hits the floor. Admiral Karath is dead. Carth’s revenge is complete. And yet, reading him, it’s like… it hasn’t done anything. Healing is never so simple as revenge. It never could be. It’s pretty basic Jedi stuff - hate only begets more hate. After taking a moment to breathe, to understand, Carth pivots on his heel and shoots the other elite trooper on the other side of the Bridge. I throw my lightsaber at the trooper and jump across to face him. Strike at the weak spot at the neck. Two down. Bastila pushes the last two away with a strong burst of the Force. They fall into the computer pit and don’t get up. All four down. We’re almost done.

The bridge computer is off to the side and unlocked. Just a few simple commands open the hangar doors and release the bridge lockout. The hard part is over.

“Carth…” Admiral Karath? “Carth…”

“The Admiral’s still alive!” Bastila says.

Carth doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s time to finish this.”

I won’t stop him. It’s not my place to tell Carth how to heal, even if I disagree with it. It wasn’t my planet, it wasn’t my family. But Bastila feels otherwise. “No, Carth! Do not give in to your hatred!”

“Bastila, it’s not your place,” I say, “And it’s not mine.”

“Don't you understand what this man has done to my life?” Carth says to her, “Do you know the pain he's brought me?”

“Killing him won't ease the pain, Carth,” she says, “Do not become what you despise.”

Saul coughs. “Carth… must tell you… must tell you something…” He doesn’t have long. “…come closer…” Carth considers it. Thinks about just stepping away and leaving him to die. But curiosity gets the better of him, and he leans down to hear what Saul has to say. Saul whispers in his ear. And whatever he says, something on Carth’s face changes. Like everything he knew just crumbled to dust. “You didn’t know, did you?” Saul coughs again, laughs weakly. “Remember my dying words… Remember them whenever… whenever you look at those you thought were your friends!” And then, he dies. Utterly. Finally. And bringing not an ounce of peace.

“He’s gone,” Carth says. Like he’s trying to process it. Like he’s in shock. “He said… he… it can't be true, can it?” Must be something serious, he looks very shaken up. He looks from Saul, to me, to Bastila, back to me, to Saul, to me again, and back to Saul. “No. No… no - it can't!” Back between the three of us, then finally at Saul. “Damn you, Saul! Damn you!”

“Carth, what did he say?”

But he doesn’t answer me. He looks at Bastila. “Bastila, it is true, isn't it?” She looks confused but he doesn’t believe her. “And… and you knew! You and the whole damn Jedi Council. You knew the whole time!”

“Carth, it’s not what you think,” she says, “We had no other choice! Please, you don't understand…”

He points his blaster at her. “So make me understand!”

“Whoa, whoa, guys!” I say, trying to calm the situation, “Whatever’s going on it can’t be that serious!”

“Not here, Carth, please…” Bastila pleads, “There's no time. Malak is coming. This isn't the place. Please, Carth, I'm asking you to trust me. For just a little while longer.”

“Really?” he says skeptically, “You expect me to trust you after this? After everything?”

“Carth, whatever this is about,” I say, “if Malak is coming we don’t have time. We can get into this when we’re back on the Hawk.”

He doesn’t lower his blaster right away. Glances at me. Thinking. Then he lowers it. “As soon as we’re off this ship I expect some answers!”

“Of course, Carth,” she says, “As soon as we get to the Ebon Hawk, I’ll explain everything. To both of you. I promise.”

We have to work our way back to the elevator, and even though we can take the direct route, I doubt it’ll be as easy as it was going the other way. There’s a lot of Dark Side energy between us and the elevator. I don’t like it at all.

My comm unit buzzes as we step off the Bridge. “It's Canderous. We took care of the guards. We're inside the Ebon Hawk and all systems are go. As soon as you guys join us we can get out of here.”

“We’re on our way to you,” I say, “but it feels like we’ll be fighting the whole way. Have Mission sit tight in the gun turret, we’re going to need it.”

“She’s on her way. Good luck.” And it clicks off.

My feeling was right. Dark Jedi in the corridors. And Sith troopers with grenades. But fighting them is… odd. Every fight I’ve been in with Carth behind me, I could always tell where his focus was. He tended to cover me a lot - not to the exclusion of anyone else, but more often than not he would be shooting the same guy I was fighting. But now he’s not. And he’s not covering Bastila, either. His focus is completely elsewhere. What changed? What did Saul tell him? But also… even if he was acting normally, these Sith aren’t. They aren’t giving it their all. It’s almost like they’re trying to waste our time, to keep us here long enough for Malak to get here. I don’t like it, I don’t trust it. And I’m not going to fall for it. I don’t hold back. As much as it physically hurts, I fight with my full strength, I push with my whole weight. I push myself to my limits. And when we get to the elevator I practically fall into it.

Nobody says anything. Bastila wordlessly heals us. Carth doesn’t even look at me. Almost like he can’t. I can’t even read him. Like he is actively blocking me out. And I could push past it, sure, but I’ve never had to. I just want to know he’s okay. What did Saul tell him? What does Bastila know? And why has it changed everything?

[girlyoustolemyheart]

Joker by Dax

19%. Of all cyberbullying victims commit suicide.

Give me the beat and a mic, give me the freedom to write

Give me the vision to see my demons and beat 'em at night

Give me the pen and the pad, give me a couple of stans

Gave you a percentage but I'm taking home all of the bag

Give me definitive and unlimited amounts of people loving me

And call upon everybody who came before and tell them to come

And inject me with whatever they're smoking man, I'm sick!

But I think you know that already

You call me evil but how would you know it

Unless you live it already?

You think you're better right?

Because nobodies seen what you've done in the dark

But if I put your life in this light

You would crumble and fight to survive or die

But bitch I fucking knew that already

I ain't special

But I specialize in making you feel especially stupid

For judging a human, while you sit at home

And the whole world judge can't watch what you doing

Or follow and hate all your movements

I ain't complaining but I know the people who do it

Are sicker than me, and I'm sick enough I just might lose it

Yeah, you think you know me 'cause you double tap on a picture

I hate the fact that you judge me, it's driving me crazy

So when it's too deep I say, "Fuck it" and drown in some liquor

I write these verses in blood, I got chapters

For days 'cause my heart is my biblical scripture

And I ain't a prophet but I can predict

That you'll never catch happiness till you're the pitcher

So please continue to laugh

If I'm a clown, you a circus act

When I rap it's in a surgeons mask

'Cause I place every syllable in a deliverable fashion

From first to last

Then cut back with a message that's hidden in melody

Making them think and ask

If I was the one on the table pushing, giving birth to rap

Maybe it was me

Maybe you like all my music but don't really actually love me

Maybe you just want a picture

Maybe you just want to see me 'cause you need some money

Maybe you think that I'm happy

Maybe you think in reality liking my post is repairing a hole

When it's actually shaking and cutting the soul right out of me

I think I'm sick

I feel a rush of emotion whenever I post up a pic

I got a problem

I'm in the studio rapping while this girl is sucking my dick

She cut a hole in my heart now I fill it with women

Who love me 'cause they think I'm rich

And if I be honest I just told a bitch that I care

But I really do not give a shit

So what's your excuse, what helps you sleep?

You leave a negative comment

Not knowing that what you sow, you will reap

I bet you smile when you post, thinking you're hurting me

But you see the way the brain works

You become what you speak

I need peace, but y'all can't offer that

I held my ground, I didn't sell my soul

I said fuck the fame, y'all can't take that offer back

Fuck a shelf, you can't take me off the rack

All the fame is not worth a heart attack

You're insane, you're in pain, I can tell by what you're saying

But my bad, I forgot you were fragile

I forgot someone who doesn't even know me told you I'm an asshole

I forgot that I'm a villain

I forgot that I've always spread positivity, but you think I didn't

I forgot that hatred stems from people who hate their own existence

I forgot I'm better off alone

I forgot I care for everyone's happiness, but forget about my own

I forget I spend every waking second on my phone-

Come join my circus, I'm recruiting

I'm taking everyone who passes judgement

Bitch, that's including everyone who thinks it's so amusing

To put me down while I'm pursuing

The keyboard warriors that live online

Behind a screen that's just an illusion

Come, come, come, come join my circus

You fucking pricks

I'll fuck you till you love me, then pay you to do some tricks

I don't need a doctor, I need a bag of nails and bricks

To lay down on the floor

So if you fail to land a flip you can feel what I felt

When you tried to come sink my ship

Let me explain, you all help me financially gain

But I spend my money on mental health books

And read them just to control all my pain

I don't wear clothes, but bought this chain

And just like you this chain is fake

I wear it to distract you from the blatant sadness

Written on my fucking face

What'd you expect?

Did you think I was immune to what you were saying

And didn't see all of the disrespect?

Do you think I'm not human, have no feelings?

Or maybe you think I'm fucking weak and now I'm pleading

Maybe you think I'm just too good

And that I'm fucking cheating?

Or maybe, just maybe

You're blind and the hate inside your heart

Clouds your eyes and your mind and your ears when I rhyme

Even though we all know I'm one of the best of all time (all time)

Or maybe you're just a fucking bitch and I can't-

Stop comparing me to people who are not in my league

Stop saying I don't believe in God just because you can't read

Stop making fake profiles so you can spam my feed

I'm not alone, I know there's millions out there just like me

[lamentsof-bee]

you can take scissors to pure canon IF YOU’RE NOT A COWARD

listen, this is how little women truly should have ended. and i’m not saying i ship it (but i am clearly saying i ship it). 

y'all. i am 100% for the feminist notion of jo not needing anyone, esp not a man in her life and that she loves her books and her liberty more than anything. believe me, i am. but saorise ronan and timothy chala-whatevs played it too well. i got too invested. and no one can tell me jo wasn't destined to meet her teddy and find out that liberty and love do not need to be mutually exclusive.

this is shameless self indulgence, but you can read it if you want lmao

Summary: She shouldn't have left. She shouldn't have turned him down. But she did. 

Jo March turned down her Teddy and then it all happened so quickly. She lost her love, her Beth and her drive all in one.

But what if she didn't? What if Laurie and Amy made a mistake and Jo hadn't thrown out her letter?

What if two souls truly are too entwined to ever find peace with anyone but each other?

The day of the funeral an eery silence is found in the March house. The house that was always filled with shouts, jubilee and cheer now stood quiet and sombre against a backdrop of white. The piano music that had once drifted along the rooms is quiet, not to be heard for a long, long time.

Jo stood at Beth’s grave. Her dear Beth, her loveliest sister, her other half. And the sorrow was incomprehensive. It crashed in waves so strong Jo did not feel as Mr Brooke pulled Meg away, sheltering her sister. She did not feel Marmee and Father too move to the side. All she could do was stare straight out, above the gravestone and beg that Beth should arise again.

‘Please,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘Please!’

She called upon the Lord’s name, maybe she took it in vain, but she begged for her sister’s return. She begged any almighty above to grant her this one wish and in return she would give herself. Sacrifice was nothing to her, if her Beth could live on.

‘Please…’ her cries grew quieter and she sank to her knees. Tears stained her cheeks and for the second time in her life, Jo March asked herself if this is how broken she is.

Is she really so broken that she should ask an almighty presence, one she doesn’t even believe in mind you, to turn back the clock.

The answer is yes.

She would have given everything she had, everything she knew and everything she felt if it meant she could change this cold winter day.

She had asked Beth to fight, to be loud, but she didn’t feel much like fighting herself anymore.

It’s unclear how long she stands there. Waiting for something to change. Maybe waiting for God to take her too.

But eventually she finds her way back to the attic. Beth’s sheets of music lay gently in her hands, the dolls that once were hers already packed into a box, letters from Mr Laurence stacked neatly on the side.

They remind Jo of the letters she wrote to Teddy. The fact that they are still unanswered stings.

Her thoughts are tumultuous and suddenly, where there was only empty space and the loss of a love, suddenly there is a whirlwind of thought.

Marmee asked her if she loved Laurie and her answer… it had been true…

Her desire to be loved, to be cared for. It was all she ever wanted. To find someone who could look at her, truly look and her and see her, and not look away in disgust. She knew she was not beautiful like Meg, regal like Amy or kind like Beth. She knew she did not fit into the society she was accustomed to. And although she often made a mockery of the rigid structures of their Victorian life, she too longed to be seen. And heard … and loved.

She meant it. ‘Women have minds and souls,’ it had burst out of her ‘as well as hearts. Ambition and talent as well as beauty.’ Her sisters came to mind. ‘And I’m sick of being told that love is all a woman is fit for… But I’m…’ she faltered. Her hands trembled as well as her voice but Marmee looked at her with gentle understanding. As if coaxing a cub into the sunlight. ‘But I’m so lonely.’

In that moment, the façade Jo March had created shattered. The candle with dreams, desires and endless amounts of passion had burned out.

Marmee stared at her for a long moment, her hands wrung in her lap before she finally said ‘You can be lonely and still love him.’

‘I don’t think I know what love is.’

‘Of course you do.’ Ever present was her patience. ‘Look at you, you are suffering because of a love well lost. We all are.’

Losing her Beth, it should have rendered everything else unimportant but it had done the exact opposite. It had made Teddy’s absence feel stronger. As if her hand had been cut off and she knew not how to act without it. No, she knew not how to write without it.

Marmee left her with a soft shoulder squeeze and the look of a mother in mourning but she still pressed her lips together in a comforting smile that seemed to say You will find your way child.

                                                          -

The attic had always been Jo’s but with Beth’s absence, Jo hardly allowed herself to move from it. After a long night of staring at the ceiling behind a shimmer of tears, losing count of the days she had spent curled up, she finally took pen to paper.

My dear Teddy,

I miss you more than I can express.

I used to think the worst fate was to be a wife. I was young and stupid. Now I have changed. The worst fate is to live my life without you in it. I was wrong to turn you down and to run away to New York when in actuality I should have run away with you. To New York, to a pirate ship, to anywhere.

If all were lost in the world… and it truly does seem that way these days, I only hope I could be reunited with you one last time. To see the smile I have sorely missed and the heart I feel akin to.

I’m still not kind like Beth. But maybe you’ll still have me anyway.

Forever yours,

Jo March

She walked to the letterbox in the forest. It was a slow walk, one of trepidation. She had written the letter already, there was no going back now. So she placed it in the small wooden box, locked it with the golden key and turned. Surely, he would check it, wouldn’t he? He was still Teddy after all.

                                                          -

Amy’s return from Paris brought with it sick Aunt March and a feeling of doubt in the pit of Jo’s stomach. She wished she had missed her sister’s arrival. She could have dozed off in the attic, sleep always seemed to come more easily while the sun was up these days. She wasn’t though, she was in the kitchen with Marmee. Waxing over what to have for dinner as if any of it mattered anymore. All her food tasted like uncertainty.

Amy entered garbed in black. She opened the door with her arms slightly wide as if she expected something to happen. But the house was still. There was no music, no laughter. Tears filled her eyes as she made her way to the kitchen. She hugged Marmee tightly whispering apologies I should have been there, it was horrid of me. I should have known something was wrong. Marmee, who had amazingly found her inner strength again so soon after such a terrible loss, looked bravely at her now youngest daughter and shook her head. ‘It was not what she wanted.’

Jo watched her mother with revered curiosity. Perhaps Marmee’s steel strong disposition had been awakened again with her daughter’s cry. One day, Jo thought to herself, I shall be like Marmee. Patient, yet unyielding to the world.

Amy sat at their tiny kitchen table, her black gown entirely too big and fancy for their dreary common house. Her lips began to move and she told them of Rome and then Paris. The stories seemed to spill out of her, unstoppable. Aunt March had fallen sick several weeks ago and her recovery, although promising at the time, had been halted by her immediate desire to return to home soil. The doctors had warned her against traveling so soon while the sickness was still taking its course but ever stubborn, Aunt March refused. Now being nursed by her staff in her manor, Aunt March is bedridden and traveling had taken a toll on even her angry spirit.

As Amy mentioned Laurie’s name, the breath hitched in Jo’s chest. She willed herself to breathe normally and slowly started counting her inhalations. She felt she was in something of a trance. Amy waxed on about fights with Laurie, about not wanting to be second best to Jo (at which Jo could only look into an empty corner) but still loving him because it’s Laurie.

Jo’s heart rate quickened when Amy spoke of a kiss and she knew she wouldn’t last much longer. How was anyone ever meant to navigate this foggy world of feelings if others were constantly adding to the fog with their words? She smiled humourlessly to herself and thought Such is usually the occupation of a writer. The conversation continues and Jo seems to be the only one missing the subtext and sadness in her sister’s eyes.

‘I thought perhaps someday I would be able to call him My Lord – .’

Amy’s sentence fades out. There is a beat, no one says anything. There is a pang, one that strikes Jo directly in her heart.

Amy looks at Jo with worry, knowing her wish will never come true. Without being fully aware of what she is doing, Jo rises, wiping her hands on her dress. ‘I should call on Aunt March.’ She wills herself to make a joke to cut through the tension. She almost does. Someone has got to make sure she hasn’t beat the bush. It’s on the tip of her tongue. Yet, she holds it. It’s still too soon. Too soon after Beth’s passing. Death doesn’t seem like a joke to her anymore. It seems like a thief. And thieves are not to be joked about.

                                                         -

Seeing Aunt March in bed, her duvet perfectly folded and a duck feather pillow behind her head, leaves Jo with a feeling of melancholy. As if she suddenly realized that even the strongest, most resilient women must give way to the tides of time.

‘I have come to read to you, Aunt March.’ Jo says quietly from the door, a faint smile on her lips.

Aunt March only gives a short nod in return after which her eyes wander back to the big window looking out onto the grounds. Jo reads to Aunt March for a while but it becomes clear that her aunt is not listening. Her glassy eyes stare out at the garden with unmistakeable sadness.

‘Your Amy did a fine job in Europe,’ she mutters in a croaking voice.

Jo halts her reading and looks up, suddenly feeling chastised. ‘I knew she would.’

She looks down to continue her passage but Aunt March interrupts her.

‘She was made for high society.’ The old lady’s eyes stop on Jo judgementally. ‘Unlike some I know.’

‘I do not wish to become decoration to a place already filled with frills and flowers.’ Jo answered simply.

‘No, you do not.’ An honest statement. ‘Just like your father.’ Another. ‘Penniless and useless.’ Aunt March huffs, her eyes linger on the door. As if she were hoping someone else would walk through it. As if she were craving more company.

‘I do wish to read to you, Aunt March.’ Jo says, only then understanding the old woman’s loneliness.

‘It would have been better if that ghastly Laurence boy hadn’t given her false hope.’ The pain in Jo’s chest awakens again. Not knowing where to look Jo faces her passage again, waiting for her aunt to continue speaking. She does not.

Quietly, instead, Jo continues to read until Aunt March falls asleep, her breathing shallow but constant.

Darkness was already falling when she left the big manor. The rooms felt hollow and empty. Aunt March’s rigor and strength seemed to have been leeched from the walls. Tonight the skies are clear. Jo trudges through the town with familiarity. Here is the town she grew up in, a place she knew she wanted to escape but always felt too attached to withdraw completely. After all, here was her family. What remained of it. Yet now, with Beth gone and Teddy unresponsive, her little home felt more like a prison. A gilded cage full of forget-me-nots and memories too precious to forget but too precarious to dream about.

Out of habit she passes the Laurence estate looking to her right, swallowing the hard knot in her throat. She walks through the woods between their homes and only stops briefly to mourn the words she poured into her letter, the honesty and vulnerability she would have to reclaim. She couldn’t let him find the letter. Not if he intended to make a wife out of Amy.

Jo’s steely determination had her walking towards the little post box. She had always put her sisters’ lives before her own. She would not stop now simply because of her infatuation for a boy. Even if that boy was Teddy.

But there was a figure already standing by the tree. Tall and lanky, Jo would recognize him even in the darkest of nights. She hadn’t the courage to speak up, so she simply stopped in her tracks and watched. If all that she had created in her head, the life they could live and happiness they could have, was to fall apart, then she should be allowed at least one moment of heart fluttering before it happens. He sinks to the ground, his hand covering his mouth. She is unsure how he would even be able to read in this dusk but she is certain he has managed.

His shoulder falls against the tree trunk heavily and for a moment she thinks his eyes are filled with tears.

She dares not to speak. She thinks she may not be able to find words anyway. Instead, she hangs back and watches as he rubs his face and gives a sigh as if he were the loneliest man in the world.

They hover in silence for what feels like eternity. Jo isn’t even sure that he knows she is there and then, a sudden panic rushes over her. She can no longer watch him. A short but loud gasp for air has him looking in her direction and clambering to his feet quickly but Jo is already on her way. Her brain feels fuzzy as if her senses had reached out too far and tried to take in too much. She begins to run, though where she is not quite sure.

Unaware that the person she tried to leave behind is following her, she stops short when she is breathless and a little ways away from the grave. Of course, she thinks. I always find my way back to my compass.

‘Jo.’ His voice is quiet and husky as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time.

This time the tears well in her eyes.

She allows herself one inhale to steady her breaking heart (again, it’s breaking again) and turns with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘Welcome home, my boy.’ She says.

For a long moment they stand and merely look at each other.

‘I –‘ but she beats him to it.

‘I hear of your impending nuptials. Congratulations.’

‘No, you misunderstand.’

Unclear if she had heard him or not, she continues. ‘Amy was full of vigour when she spoke of Paris. It seems you left quite an impression on her young heart.’ She’s speaking to the ground now, unable to meet his eyes. ‘Though you have always had your ways with young, impressionable maids.’

‘I only ever cared for one.’

‘Amy will be happy to hear th - .’

‘I’m not marrying Amy!’ His voice is booming, her eyes look up with uncertainty.

‘Just for once, could you stop thinking you know everything and just listen?’ He begs.

‘Amy and I made a mistake. We were both wrought with grief and you weren’t there.’

She thinks he will begin a monologue but after a short silence instead he asks her a question. He takes a shaky breath.

‘Why didn’t you write to me about Beth?’

The knot is back. The one that sits in her throat and hinders her breathing.

Still, she can’t look him in the eyes. Her embarrassment is too great.

‘You hadn’t responded to any of my letters thus far. Writing to you about Beth seemed folly, like bait. I knew you would respond if I did but only out of loyalty to Beth, not out of loyalty…’ her voice breaks. ‘To me.’

‘I deserved to know.’

‘You found out through Amy - .’

‘I deserved to know from you.’  

Her eyes flash and she feels a lick of hot anger in her stomach.

‘Deserve? Now you suddenly deserve to know? As if all my unanswered letters filled with woes and apologies weren’t suffering enough?’ Her voice grows hard. ‘What good does knowing of my suffering bring you? She was not your sister!’

It was mean. The one habit she hadn’t yet outgrown – lashing out when she felt attacked. It came too easily. She sees on his face that he feels no joy in her sorrow. He feels broken and beaten by this loss as much as she does. He too had loved Beth.

His words are so quiet, she almost doesn’t hear them. The way his voice shakes undoes her.

‘I miss her.’

Tears run down her face.

‘I miss us.’ She answers, the presence of the gravestone heavy at her back. ‘All of us. When we were younger and didn’t have a care in the world.’

She takes a breath. ‘Beth was the best of us.’

‘She was.’ He agreed quietly.

‘We need to be better for her.’ She feels tired as she looks at him, as if this conversation had taken everything out of her. Suddenly, he realizes she is missing her fight. His Jo is lost in the sea of her mind and sorrow.

‘Do you regret turning me down?’

It had to come to this. She knew it had to come to this. But speaking of it was too soon. Her heart still ached and she felt so young and stupid and at the same time so marred by the world. She tried to answer in a way that Beth would.

‘No,’ she says finally. ‘Because I could not have loved you then. All I could do was crave love.’ She takes in his face and pity overtakes hers. She wasn’t explaining this right. ‘Please understand that I have always felt suffocated by the rigid structures of the world we were born into. And yet, I longed for affection and love because I just felt… I feel…’ she falters, the tears threaten to spill again. ‘I am so lonely. Teddy, I am still so lonely.’

She sees him wrestle with himself. He takes a half a step towards her on pure instinct alone but stops mid-stride unsure if he is doing the appropriate thing. She continues.

‘Women have hearts and souls and dreams, just like men do. I have a heart and soul and a dream. And I don’t want to give any of that up simply because society tells me it is not right. I don’t want to marry out of loyalty to my Bourgeois generation or because every other woman is inclined to do so.’

He is shaking his head and this time the pity is in his eyes. For he knows how she suffers under the threat of society and he knows she could be free with him. One tiny conformity could grant her all the freedom she desires.

The words continue to pour out of her.

‘I realize now that … that women … that people have all kinds of different dreams. Meg wished nothing more than to be married to poor Mr Brookes and that has made her truly happy. But I don’t think she found happiness in an impoverished home but in the comfort of someone who truly sees her.’

‘I see you.’ He quietly interrupts.

A beat.

‘I know.’ She says back in a tiny voice.

They are looking at each other.

‘If you could not love me then, could you love me now?’

She is unsure. She still does not know if she is fit for loving and deserves the same in kind but Beth would say that there is no person in this world undeserving of kindness.

‘I will never be a good wife to you.’ He needed to know. ‘I will always be awkward and strange and vicious.’

He is nodding because he knows it is true.

‘And I may never want children. I have too much to give to this world to burden myself with raising a child.’

Then I will raise it. Teddy thinks to himself. It’s as simple as that.

It has always been as simple as that.

‘My fingers will always be ink stained and I will never slow down for you and … and …’ She looks at him, trying to come up with more excuses for her heart to not take this leap again.

‘And I will love you anyway.’ He concludes. ‘I will watch you love your writing, and your sisters and your liberty and I will only hope that you spare me a little of that affection too.’

They don’t move. They stand opposite each other, staring.

‘I told you it was your way – to care for somebody and love them until you die. Could you not let it be me? For my the worst fate of my life is also if I should live it without you.’

There is a hope in his pleading eyes that was not there before.

She gathers all her courage and in a tiny voice she says:

‘I think I should like to try my best.’

A quietness entered her soul. A tranquility.

Some souls are too entwined that they may never find peace.

But thankfully, these two have.

[yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy]

Keep Your Eyes On Me Part 5

So I was on vacation for A WEEK in Myrtle Beach without my laptop but I HAD A NOTEBOOK. That I used for the 14 hour drive to and from and throughout the whole week THAT I FILLED WITH IDEAS. and so now we get to use them. Enjoy. Again, big thanks to @waiting4inspiration for hosting the 2k writing challenge. This is so fun. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 and now enjoy part 5!

Part 5

You went back to Ivar’s house and snuck into the armoire where your ‘tent’ is pitched to access your tent and “paused��� time for a moment to wrack a sob before you did your best to regain your composure before you checked in with Morgan. 

“This is H.L.S. Zulu Alpha Roger Alpha 0960 coding in- Phoenix.” You checked in before Morgan’s face appeared in a frown to see you furiously wiping away the tears on your face. 

“I register the time pause, what’s the problem?” Morgan asked. For you, phoenix meant distress, you rarely coded in phoenix. Morgan could count on one hand the number of times you had coded in phoenix out of the hundreds of missions you had run and every last one was when things went to shit and you were in a bind you couldn’t get yourself out of which was something in of itself because you were a good agent. One of the best which made her job a peice of cake. 

“Are you sitting down?” You asked with a wince. 

“How bad?” Morgan asked, her own trepidation clear in her tone. 

“Um, like Cat 3? Maybe 4?” You answered as your wince turned into a grimace before you just started crying again. 

“Hold on sweetie.” Morgan held up a finger and then secured the channel as she ran a quick scan of your location. Freydis was the closest being to you, Bjorn was in the port still on a boat as was his extended family, your emotional distress was causing you physical distress but otherwise you were unharmed. 

“So what’s going on?” Morgan asked. 

“I had to divorce Bjorn.” You wailed as Morgan brought up the feed from your contacts and watched that unfold for a moment. 

“Uh, well, that could actually be a good thing, means he won’t come back to Kettegat and he’ll be safe, you could actually call this mission a success if you wanted to and come home now.” Morgan assured you before she came to the exchange between yourself and Ivar. “Oh, or not.” Morgan grimaced then sucked in a breathe between gritted teeth as she started to wrack her brain on how to help the situation before she bent down to her purse on the floor next to her to grab a mini bottle of peach whiskey from her purse and dumped it into her glass of oj, usually she didn’t drink during work hours but this was a lot of distress as she rewatched your conversation with Ivar. 

“So...do you have a plan for how you’re going to accomplish giving Ivar a son?” Morgan asked before she took a swig of her drink.  

“I’m pregnant with Bjorn’s child.” You answered which caused her to spit out her drink and start choking on it before she grabbed a napkin and wiped off the screen as she started cussing up a storm which got the other operators to look over in curiosity. “Hey, ya’ll mind your own damn business!” Morgan snapped at them which made them turn back to their own screens obediently. 

“Zara, you shouldn’t be pregnant. You can’t...it shouldn’t be possible. The shapeshifter serum…” Morgan tried to argue but she couldn’t deny the biometrics once she reran them and found the evidence of the pregnancy, she simply didn’t notice it before in the first scan because usually it was never a thing to look for before as she laced her fingers together and cracked her knuckles as she took it all in before she heard gasps from the other operators who were eavesdropping. 

“Hey, none of y'all didn’t hear shit you hear me?!” Morgan yelled at them before Vanessa, another operator cleared the room for her. 

“I know, but here I am.” You answered with another angry yet defeated sob. 

“Zara, that’s it, I’m pulling you out. You’re in over your head and I’m out of my depth, this has never been done before.” Morgan decided. 

“No! You can’t! Not yet anyway, Bjorn JUST got on the ships, they’re still in the port, if I go missing now they’ll go after him. I can’t do that.” You argued. 

“You will and I will assign someone else to rejump the mission, we’ll just unravel it, just a little bit.” Morgan insisted. 

“No! If you do, I’ll lose the baby and I can’t lose this baby or this baby!” You argued as you palmed your belly and then gestured to Dyre in your other arm around the sling that kept Dyre secured to your chest. “Morgan please, we’ve been a team for years, you know me and what I’m capable of, I’m not in over my head yet, I’m just...I ran into a few bumps that’s all. It’s still early, my body could still potentially naturally abort and you would be rejumping someone else for nothing. I’ve got time. Just, help me find an out. Help me find a way to successfully accomplish this mission and keep my head in the process. Please Morgan.” You pleaded desperately before Morgan groaned and sat back in her chair and rubbed her eyes before she gave you a meaningful look as you continued to her give her your best puppy dog eyes. 

“Damn it.” Mogan complained as she rolled her shoulders to loosen them then ran the probabilities and the possibilities generators as she drank the rest of her drink as she realized this would explain the degree of distress you were under before the computer dinged that it found an out and relief washed over both of you. 

“Ok, I have an out. You miss this out- for any reason- I’m pulling you and this mission will be rejumped and then I’ll be grounding you. You hear me?” Morgan warned. 

“Loud and clear.” You answered before Morgan explained the out and made the arrangements. 

“Now, is there anything else you need to report?” Morgan asked. 

“No.” You shook your head ‘no’. 

“Good, now I’m ordering you some Calm because that much distress isn’t good for the baby and then I’m going to go to lunch and get a strawberry margarita with my tacos al pastor. I’ll check in after lunch.” Morgan said before she reopened the channel while you got what you needed to help your current situation and left your tent in the armoire and hit the resume button on time. It wasn’t but a few minutes before there was a knock at the door. 

“Who is it?” You asked. 

“It’s Freydis.” Freydis answered. 

“Oh, please come in.” You invited as you opened the door to her and once she was in she gave you the tightest hug she dared so as not to smoosh Dyre and this simple act was all you needed to start crying again as she just held you and soothed you before she had you both lay down on the bed, Dyre between you and simply talked over the situation before Freydis gave you the best advice she could about Ivar and his likes and dislikes and his short temper and just general personality. 

“So what’s in the bowls?” She asked after you seemed to stabilize after you both made a vow to the other. She vowed she would never harm you or Dyre and you vowed you would never usurp her or come between her and Ivar and would always show her deference which pleased her greatly. 

“Oh, medicine for Ivar. I have balm of Gilead and milk of poppy. Ivar seems he’s in pain all the time, I was going to try to see if I can ease it some.” you answered as you got up and showed it to her.

“How did you get these?” Freydis asked in awe. She herself, being queen had heard of these but had never gotten to see them in person before. 

“The milk of poppy I collected myself, where I was before I came here, poppies grew wild all over. We were close to the silk road and the doctors traveling revealed what it was and always paid me and my family in gold and spices for it.” You explained before you talked about the balm of Gilead or tiger balm as it was known in the far east. 

“Are you a healer?” Freydis realized you seemed to know your medicinal herbs. 

“Yeah, sort of.” You nodded. 

“Then we’re double blessed to have you.” Freydis smiled fondly. 

“Thank you. I actually have some spices I was going to give to the kitchen.” You revealed as you showed her the other bowls on your table before she took Dyre from you so you could deliver said spices to the kitchen. 

Ivar watched on curiously as he noted how you and Freydis were both making efforts to get along and become friends. He was hoping that both of your naturally sweet natures would mesh well. When he was informed that you had spices that you gifted the kitchens and that the meal that night would be especially good, that pleased him even more. 

Freydis sat you down across from her with herself sitting on Ivar’s right with you sitting on his left and Freydis did her best to make sure you were as comfortable as possible, talking about your family and your adventure in coming to Kettegat- looking for Bjorn and how you managed to labor on a boat all by yourself before you revealed how you had labored in the water and how there was a pod of dolphins that surrounded you and used their sonar to help you deliver with much less pain than than you guessed would be normal because in your time, this was actually a fairly common practice as Freydis and Ivar were stunned as Ivar announced you had clearly been gifted and blessed by the gods to only have good fortune. When the meal ended, you nursed Dyre before handing him off to Freydis so that you could “attend to Ivar”. 

“Before we lay together, there is something I would like to do first.” You proposed to Ivar who looked at you curiously. 

“I have balm of Gilead, also known as tiger balm in the far east. I would like to massage you with it, to see if it would help ease you.” You proposed as his eyebrows rose in surprise as you showed him the balm which he sniffed curiously before he made a face, not exactly liking the smell at first as he looked at you warily. 

“I will be just as naked as you will be when I do so that you can hopefully relax.” You added before he seemed to be appeased by that before you got naked first and then helped him take the braces off his legs before you had him lay down on the bed. 

“Where are your stretch marks?” He asked as he looked at your lower belly and didn’t see any. 

Oh shit. Think fast!

“I don’t have any because the moment I started to show I put oil on my belly, the oil helped my belly to grow without getting the marks.” You answered before you grabbed at a bottle of olive oil and showed it to him before you sat down on one side of him and started to simply massage his hand and arm which helped him to relax. 

“Where did you learn this?” Ivar asked as he gestured to your massaging hands with his other arm. 

“The wife of a doctor gave me a massage in return for payment for the milk of poppy a few times. It was the most wonderful experience. I simply imitate it.” You answered with a shrug before you worked up his arm, letting his hand rest on your waist as you did so. 

“Is that why your skin is so soft?” Ivar asked as he traced little circles with the tips of his fingers on your skin which made you smile while a shiver ran up your spine and the touch gave you goosebumps and your nipples grow erect which made Ivar grin to see your body react to such a simple touch from him.  

“Yes.” You nodded before you were done with that arm and stood up on your knees and went to step over his abdomen before his hands went to your waist and forced you to sit on his belly which got you to blush but you obeyed his silent command and started working on his other arm as his other hand stroked down your waist and your thigh as he simply looked up at you and watched you work on him before you simply started to massage his pecks and his shoulders as you locked gazes. You were surprised yet relieved when his gaze was soft, if not lidded and started to grow heated and when he seemed to be satisfied with your rubbing he gently took your waist and moved your pelvis back which you complied and found him hard and his head seeping with precum at your butt before you spread your legs wider to open yourself up before you seated yourself onto him and started to ride him. Slowly at first to get a feel for him. He was thicker than Bjorn but not quite as long. 

“You’re blushing.” Ivar stated as his hands were digging into your soft hips and guiding you over him. 

“And your eyes are spectacularly blue.” You returned in awed wonder because his eyes were practically glowing before you bent over and kissed him hungrily, your fingertips softly digging into the back of his neck and skull, your fingernails gently scratching his scalp, careful to make sure your hands never crossed over his throat because the last thing you wanted was to break what tiny bit of trust he was giving you- by even for a moment- thinking you were going to try to choke him. But it seemed he enjoyed it as his hands then started to roam your body, squeezing your breasts until milk came out. 

“Careful, you’ll make a mess.” You tried to warn him but your tone was surprisingly playful as your smile was beaming before he pulled your breasts to his mouth to suckle, forcing you to move your whole body up his to accommodate him, his cock sliding out until just the tip remained inside you but the breathy moan spilling from your throat made Ivar grin as he continued to suckle one before kissing the valley between your breasts before suckling on the other as you supported yourself up by your elbows on either side of his head and let him do as he pleased with you. You surprised yourself with how willing you had been to receive all of his affections, even though your heart accused you of enjoying all of this too much but that Calm had done it’s work and the guilt wasn’t heavy because of it so you stamped it down. This was just sex. This was a way to gain his trust and confidence and a way to blow off steam for you. This didn’t mean anything...right? It was just a human activity. That’s all. 

But oh, when he released your breasts with his mouth and grabbed your waist and moved you to seat yourself to the hilt, you gasped in delight and moaned in pleasure as your eyes closed in serenity. Surprisingly he was using his stomach to push up into you as his hold on your waist and hips forced you down as you started to ride him harder and with more zeal and enthusiasm. 

“Oh by the gods.” You whined as you placed your hands on his chest to steady you and really threw yourself into this. Fuck. This was good, this was better than you thought it would be. You were going to cum if he kept this up. 

“Ivar...I’m…” you tried to warn him as you opened your eyes and looked down at him with lidded eyes and a tortured bliss expression on your face and now he was looking up at you with the most earth shattering intensity, it almost made you want to shrink back, but instead it emboldened you to give him your all as he started to hiss and grunt through gritted teeth because he was getting dangerously close himself but his ego forbade himself from cumming yet. If he could get the two most beautiful women he had ever known to their peaks, even with his “hinderances” that would be an achievement. 

It wasn’t long after before your orgams seemed to snap and then flood, your voice reaching a delicious high as his name fell from your lips, you mentally had to make sure it was Ivar’s name, not Bjorn’s. Ivar would probably throw you into a wall if you said Bjorn’s name right now. And Ivar pushed up into one last time as his body tensed and stayed in that position for a few long moments as his face screwed up for a moment as he held his breath as he released himself deep inside you before he went lax and fought to catch his breath. 

“Wow.” You panted as you fought to catch yours too. That was...great actually. 

You got off of him and pushed him to roll over. 

“What are you doing?” Ivar asked as he paused and was hesitant to do so. 

“You interrupted my massage with sex, I wasn’t done yet.” You explained with a bright smile. 

“Oh, well then by all means.” He chuckled as he took a pillow and put it under his chest so he could lay on his belly which gave you access to his back and immediately started groaning and moaning when you sat on his butt and worked on his back. 

You worked on him until he fell asleep and once you were sure he was out, you quickly did a biometrics scan of him. 

“Jesus,” you breathed when you read it over before you got off of him and helped him roll over before you went to get Dyre back from Freydis. 

“So?” Freydis asked as she was half asleep with Dyre sleeping peacefully on her chest as she was propped up by pillows. Part of her was jealous that your baby was what Ivar really wanted but she couldn’t bring herself to blame the baby, if anything she felt such a strong pull towards it and she would be happy to coparent with you and would probably dote on him as if he was Baldr himself. 

“Whew, you are one lucky woman, wow.” You giggled as you got Dyre back which got her to snort a laugh. 

“We’re both lucky then.” Freydis answered even though that stung her heart a bit but she stamped that down for your sake. 

“My bed is big enough for three.” You offered as you hesitated in leaving her. 

“Are you sure?” She asked. 

“Come on, he’s out, I’ll let you get the right, and I’ll get the left.” You nodded towards your room before she got up and followed you back to your room and you got in on one side while she got in on the other and both of you cuddled into Ivar’s sides with both of you using his arms as your pillows before she soon dozed off too. Once you were sure she was out, you broke out your mini twilla from your wrist and set it up before you used it to put you under to create a dream world and created projections of possible children and dressed yourself and Freydis in proper queenly attire and made both of you about six months pregnant and all of the kids in appropriate clothes and made sure to program your children’s projections and then brought Freydis and Ivar into the dream before you “woke” them up by placing Ivar outside his own home, carrying a bag of treasures as you prompted him to want to go into his own house as you primed Freydis up with her own “children” a few sons and two daughters while you gave yourself the same. 

“I’m home!” Ivar called out as he came into his house before all the kids came running at him. 

“Daddy!” They all shrieked and giggled as they all came bounding up and did actually knock him down and tackle him with their little hugs and kisses as Ivar was nearly crying and so happy to hug and hold all of his kids, perfect little mixes of himself, Freydis and Astrid as you and Freydis both came up, both of you giggling while both of you grinned happily and proudly at the scene. 

“Ok, you gotta let Daddy up.” You softly urged the kids who tried to help their dad to at least sit up before you and Freydis helped him stand up. 

“Did you bring us presents?” Dalla asked as she eyed his satchel excitedly and bounced in place her curls acting like springs around her little head as her bright turquoise eyes shined bright. 

“Well that depends, were you good for your mothers?” Ivar returned as they all nodded yes emphatically before Ivar looked at both Freydis and yourself to either confirm or deny it before you both nodded yes. 

“Alvis has gotten really good at his swordsmanship since you’ve been gone. He’s been practicing every day and Dyre has too, after you get some food in you, you should watch them.” You informed him proudly as both boys preened and puffed up their chests with pride and gave their father bright, smiles, despite their few missing teeth because they were loosing their baby teeth in favor of their adult teeth now. 

“And Bergthor has been working on his archery, he can split a hair at 50 paces now.” Freydis added as you coded that into his projection from behind your back. 

“Really?! That’s great boys!.” Ivar congratulated his sons. 

“You’re just in time for lunch My Love.” Freydis said as she could smell the scent of the large lunch wafting into the living room from the kitchen before Ivar turned and took a seat at the head of the table as his kids crowded around him and clamored to sit as close to him as they could with his youngest daughters each getting a knee to sit on as they took the loaves of bread that had just been placed on the table and dipped the torn pieces into the butter and the honey before they took turns feeding their father as yourself and Freydis sat down and started eating the bread too before the rest of the decadent meal was brought in as you and Freydis caught Ivar up on what had been happening in Kattegat since he was gone on the raid he had just returned from as his sons eagerly asked how many enemies he had slaughtered and how much fortune he had won which prompted him to open his bag to reveal the treasures as Ivar seemed to choose which child should receive what before he handed Dyre and Bergthor necklaces for you and Freydis which the boys readily put on your necks as all the girls put on the new bracelets which were just a little too big for their wrists but they were equally happy to just have their daddy back. 

After lunch the boys showed off their new fighting skills with each other as Ivar watched with a keen eye and ready constructive criticism for them which they were happy to receive as Bergthor was happy that he actually put a strand of his mother Freydis’ hair into the target which really impressed everyone before you had them all get on their horses and ponies to show off their riding skills in the riding pen which Ivar was proud to see too as Freydis and yourself stole into his sides so the three of you could keep your eyes on all the kids as Ivar noted how the girls especially were getting really good at riding their ponies as the boys had graduated from the ponies to the horses. 

You let Freydis and Ivar sneak away to “reconnect” first as you stayed with the kids in the yard with the other thralls and once he was done, Freydis came and traded places with you for you could reconnect with Ivar too because it had been a long six months without him. You and Freydis had started to conceive within weeks of each other after you joined the family because you used your knowledge of it to your advantage. 

“So what do you think you’re having this time? Ivar asked as he sat up and kissed your pregnant belly with adoration and excitement. Now stretch marks were like tiger stripes on your belly and Freydis’. 

“Honestly I think we’re having another girl.” You informed him. 

“Well we already have three sons, another girl would even them out.” Ivar shrugged. 

“Well with as active as she has been so far, I think Disa would be a fitting name.” You revealed. 

“Spirited is she?” Ivar grinned proudly. 

“Very, she’ll be a shield maiden for sure.” You giggled before you cued up the baby to start kicking like crazy as Ivar watched and felt the kicks in awed wonder. “Well it always makes me happy to come home from a good raid to find I’ve left something behind.” Ivar hinted. 

“Two somethings this time, I think Freydis and I are just happy to have you back, we all are.” You giggled as you put your hand on your belly and continued to feel the kicks. 

“Lucky me.” Ivar laughed. 

“Yes, twice over.” You agreed before you pushed him to lay back. 

“Now, I don’t know about you but it’s been a very long six months for me and I’ve missed you like crazy.” You insisted before you impaled yourself on him and rode him with gusto and once both of you were satisfied you got dressed in your finer clothes and went to the Great Hall for dinner where a feast had been laid out and once you and Freydis had eaten both of you were still riding the high of having Ivar home as you both danced as your daughters imitated both of you in your twirls with the drum beats as Ivar watched on with happiness and pride, both nearly causing his heart to burst because for once, he didn’t feel any pain in his body or anger in his heart. Just calm and happiness, he still wasn’t used to it. Even after all these years. But he was getting there. 

Ivar fell asleep in the dream with you on his left side in the bed with Freydis on the right, both of you laying your heads on his shoulders and curled into him as his arms were under your necks as his hands stroked your sides as he simply basked in the happy glow of being surrounded by the women who loved him who were carrying the perfect children he always dreamed of and that everything was perfect now that he was back home after stamping down what would hopefully be some of the last of any uprising against him. He could rest easy now and enjoy his life and his family and all that he had worked so hard for. 

[mage-cat]

Unbubbled, Chapter 5

Holy cow, it’s finally done, the plot-necessary chapter that’s going to lead to the fun character stuff that really likes to play out in my brain. I did fit in a funny scene that’s I’ve loved to giggle over since before I knew it was going to be Bismuth that would be in it, so I did have some fun with this. I hope you all enjoy it. The wait for the next chapter should be much shorter.

Story under the cut. Link to the AO3 version can be found through here.

Peridot's practice range was around the back of the Barn. There were a handful of roughly-made bulls eye targets and a larger number of poles of varying heights and distances that she began to place empty cans on top of. At the same time, Bismuth began to lay out the contents of her bag.

“These are supposed to have some spin when flying,” she explained as she placed the shuriken and chakrams on the ground. “It wouldn't matter much if you want to control their flight all the way to the target, but if you want to launch and left them go, they'll still cut through the air better if you put that spin on them. The other options I have here are a bit less picky about how you handle them.”

Peridot snickered as she extended her powers to take control of the weapons Bismuth had brought her.

Bismuth grinned, “I swear you little ones are always the most vicious.”

“And here Lapis always says that it's because I've spent too much time around Quartzes. My longest assignment was in a Quartz Kindergarten. Maybe something did rub off, but I think you have something there. The Shorty Squad has more to prove.”

After a few minutes of watching Peridot make her first experimental throws, Pearl turned to Amethyst. “Why do you care so much about this whole Jasper situation?”

“Something she said while I was losing that fight to her: 'You could have been me.' It's true. The only difference between me and Jasper is luck. And then she called me a joke.” Pearl looked to be about to say something but Amethyst cut her off. “Oh, don't act like me being a joke wasn't at least a little on purpose. Do you remember what y'all were like when y'all found me? Y'all needed a laugh bad, and that turned out to be the first thing I was actually good at. I was always going to be the smallest and least experienced person on this team, so I settled into being a joke. It wasn't until Steven came along that I realized things didn't have to stay that way.”

“And it was awful seeing her corrupt like that,” Steven added. “Even if she is scary, she was hurting.”

Peridot was paying enough attention to the conversation to join in. “It's easy for me to forget how intimidating Jasper can be to someone on the opposing side.”

“How can you forget that?” asked Amethyst.

Peridot shrugged as she launched a shuriken. “Jasper's only scary when she's your enemy, and she's never been mine. She was a guard at my last Kindergarten for centuries. Within the bounds of Homeworld's dislike of sentiment, she could be considered the closest thing to a friend that I had.”

“You said just being around her made you tired,” Steven said, confused.

“Being around allies does not make her any less fond of high drama. Being on a ship just the two of us plus Lapis, who was saying as little as possible, was exhausting. The difference between her and a lot of other guards was that I could tell her she was being exhausting. Not every Quartz is perfectly safe for non-combatants to be around. Especially not fully-trained ones. It's amazing what they can get away with within regulations, even more if they can keep a straight face while they say you provoked them and the Agate doesn't like you very much in the first place.” A chakram glanced off of a soup can.

Steven was about to ask a question when Amethyst put a hand on his shoulder and shook her head. Now wasn't the time to ask Peridot to elaborate.

Peridot turned to Bismuth, floating a few throwing knives in front of her. “I think I like the feel of these best.”

“Good choice. The knives can be used for close quarters in a pinch better than the other options.”

“They also seem to do the most damage at a distance,” Peridot said as she examined fallen cans' new dents and holes. “Though these ball bearing things come close.”

“That's slingshot.”

Pearl snapped her fingers. “That's what it is! I've been trying to place them all day. It's been so long since I've seen slings on a battlefield that I couldn't think back any farther than muskets. Remind me to give you a primer on gunpowder later, Bismuth. We've never had much use for the stuff, but it never hurts to keep track of human arms development.”

“Keep the shot. There's not much I could change about how I make that, but I'm going to want to try a few different knife ideas. Do you still have that aluminum scrap? It could be useful.”

“I have a small mountain of it. Does aluminum hold an edge all that well? It's not something I've needed to know before.”

“That's something I need to test, but the lower density would let them fly farther and faster. The speed is where most of the punch will be coming from. I'm going to leave some of the shuriken and chakrams here too, just in case you want to give them another try.”

After they filled the empty space in her bag with crushed aluminum cans, Bismuth asked Garnet, “Are we still good on time?”

“Leaving soon would be best.”

As Amethyst pulled Peridot aside for a more private goodbye, Pearl took Bismuth's arm. “I assume that you'll want to head back to the Forge as soon as possible.”

“Not if this is you asking me to stick around for a while. On the other hand, Doll, you're more than welcome to come with me. You always have interesting input.”

“I actually want to start drawing up a list of warp pads that we might be able to move. Now that you're back to stay, the length of that hike to the Forge is going to get bothersome quickly. Still, perhaps we can walk to the Temple and you can use the warp there instead of the closer one?”

Steven chimed in, “It's a beautiful day for a walk. Amethyst and I can hang back so it feels more like alone time.”

Amethyst returned. “I can't promise we won't make fun of you two, but we'll keep it quiet enough that y'all won't hear it.”

“That all sounds like a good plan to me,” Bismuth said.

Steven turned to Garnet and Peridot. “I'll be back. I've got Buddy Budwick's journal at the Temple, and I think Lapis might want to see it. He recorded some stuff about the pyramid. There's a drawing of a mural with Celestine in it in there.”

“That could be very helpful. Thank you, Steven,” Garnet said.

The walk to the Temple was nicely uneventful until they reached the boardwalk where they heard a voice call out, “Ms. Pearl! There's something I need to discuss with you!”

Pearl and Bismuth stopped as they turned toward the voice, Steven and Amethyst soon catching up to them. “Oh, Mayor Dewey. Bismuth, this is Mayor William Dewey,” she said as the man in question walked up to them. “He's the democratically elected leader of the human settlement.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bismuth said.

“Likewise,” the mayor stuck out his hand. By Bismuth mirroring his actions, they navigated a handshake with a minimal level of awkwardness. Once that was done, he turned to Pearl. “Another new recruit?”

“Oh no, quite the opposite,” Pearl said as she tightened her arm around the smith's. “Bismuth was with us for a very long time, and we're thrilled to have her back.” She leaned against her. “Especially me. What was it you needed to discuss?”

His face turned red as his eyes repeatedly skipped from Pearl's face to Bismuth's to their entwined arms. He pushed up his sleeve to look at his bare wrist as he said, “On my, is it really that time? I'm afraid I must be going. We can return to the muscles, I mean, the matter later.” Bismuth blinked in confusion as he beat a hasty retreat.

Once he was out of sight, Pearl's theatrical cuddle turned into a slump. “Oh I hope that's the end of that. The man has been trying to flirt with me for the past decade. It's been incredibly tiresome, but it's too important to maintain good relations with him as the human authority of Beach City for me to be as blunt as I would like to be.”

Amethyst doubled over laughing. “Oh man, Pearl, that was brutal. You couldn't have let him down a little bit easier?”

“That would have meant letting him think there was any chance of me ever thinking about him romantically. Even if I did see the aesthetic appeal in human men the way Rose did, which I don't, I met his late wife, so I know what he would expect from a relationship. I swear the only difference between the typical politician's wife and a Pearl on Homeworld is that a wife is not expected to open doors for her husband.” She sighed. “The gender situation has improved so much in the past century, yet some people take such pride in being 'old-fashioned'. I'll never understand it.”

“After being part of that performance,” Bismuth said, “are you sure you don't want me to stay with you a little longer?”

“No, no,” Pearl said as they stepped onto the beach. “We both have work that needs to be done, and we'll get it done better if we aren't around distracting each other.”

With the romantic mood now actively in the process of being killed, Steven thought it was a good time to voice a question that had been on his mind for the whole walk. “What do you think would happen if I tried to heal Jasper?”

“I honestly don't know,” Pearl answered. “That really is more of a question for Garnet.”

“Where would we even keep her?” Amethyst asked. “We can't just kick Lapis out of the Barn, and I couldn't even start listing all the problems with her staying in the Temple.”

“There's the Forge,” Bismuth said. “It's safe and isolated, though it'll less isolated once we move the warp pad.”

“Corrupted Gems can't activate the warps. Not even if they're half-healed,” Steven said.

“Not sure if I would call a place filled with more kinds of sharp objects than I knew existed counts as 'safe' though,” Amethyst added.

“I would like to see someone try to fight me on my home turf with weapons I made for other people. Selenite needed to do a lot of talking after she split from Lapis Lazuli. This Jasper is probably going to need the same. I'm good at listening. I want to help.”

“Of course you do,” Pearl said fondly. “We still need to run it past Garnet before we do anything about it.”

“You're right, and it's best to let her have her talk with Lapis first.”