#I WANT TO DRAW SO MANY CHARACTERS SO BAD BUT I CAN BARELY GET THROUGH SKETCHES WITHOUT GIVING UPP

[f1version]

NEW YEAR'S DAY ‧͙*̩̩͙❅ LH44

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x girlfriend!Reader ( she/her )

summary: New years is always special when you spend it next to those you love the most. That’s why you spend it with Lewis, and Lewis spends it with you.

warnings/info: fluff, midnight kisses, mentions of alcohol, they get a bit drunk. the extra bit has angst!

word count: 951 + an extra scene of 591 (1.5k)

note: so, the end of 2023. that’s so crazy. i’m so thankful for everything really, there’s a paragraph incoming but, yeah, thank you for reading and following along this year. you made a difference <3

btw i recomend listening to the instrumental of new year’s day by taylor swift !!

snowglobe, a holiday special

One minute before midnight. One minute in which people fall anxious, the sound of heels hitting the floor and whispers reciting resolutions over and over is their favorite tune for one minute. In your minute, you see people gather around the terrace of Lewis’ penthouse, stumbling and laughing, the blinding lights of New York lighting up part of their snow-dusted faces. You knew a couple of faces, some interacting with Lewis and you before your minute hit the half-mark. 

When you’re upon seconds, you look up at the waiting sky, stars expecting to be overshadowed by something bigger, louder. You can feel the anticipation in the air, spotlights from Times Square moving faster, the echo of people’s excitement drowning the streets.

Fifteen seconds away and you look at the man holding you close. His eyes dart between your eyes and your lips, a smile that could light up the world—and already does—on his lips. I don’t do New Year’s kisses, you remember him saying last year, back when your memories together consisted of clandestine meetings in hotel rooms and longing stares, too afraid to confess.

Perhaps this year is a completely different story, but the same character has his arms wrapped around you. There are changes, so many you can barely count, you wonder if this one will be one too.

“So,” Lewis says, “what a year.”

You smile, leaving a kiss on his cheek before resting your forehead on his. “You finally got the hint,” you whisper and he laughs, bringing you closer just as the insatiable sounds of anxiety start morphing into something discernible.

Ten. Nine. 

He lets out a deep breath, “I know what I said last year. About the kisses.”

Eight, they sing as your heart picks up. Seven, and Lewis laughing nervously. 

“And I mean it,” he says, “Meant it.”

Six. Five. Four.

You smile as your side of the world lift their glasses of champagne, recording phones, or just bring their loved ones close. It’s a bubble bath of each life trapped in its own delicate bubble.

Lewis smiles back, breathing heavily, “But I want you to be my first New Year's kiss.”

Three, and you laugh, rolling your eyes. Two, “Then kiss me,”

One, and he closes the distance, the so obnoxious world goes silent, and it’s the best kiss he’s ever received. It’s immersive; Your hands play with his braids and his draw shapes on your hips, his heavy breaths fall over your soft ones, and the taste of two different bottles of champagne tempt to be bitter.

The world around you starts echoing in your head, different colors tinting the perfect kiss. People are patting Lewis’ back as he looks at you, ignoring them for a little longer, only wanting to focus on the girl who enchanted him, the one he could hear talk and talk about for hours on end, the one who changed his mind over love and relationships, the one who held his hand through his darkest times. This was all he needed, all he wanted to focus on. On the girl he loves. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” you tease, daydream still in his eyes.

He smiles, “Oh, absolutely not”

Then you’re walking around, hand-in-hand wishing a happy New Year to the known and the unknown. He calls his family and you call yours, spending ten minutes together sweet-talking to a very sleepy Roscoe on Lewis’ screen. It’s absurd how fast minutes pass but how slow time moves. You see the crowd fading away, leaving the dance floor empty enough to drag Lewis’ over, dancing away the hectic city under you. It’s a new year, and you can’t warp your head around your luckiness.

By 5:44, everyone is gone. You and Lewis lay down on the couch after drowning 6 shots of Tequila, a strong scent of alcohol and sweat hanging in the air, with glitter all across the floor. You’re holding hands, eyes fixated on the ceiling, drunk and in love. What a wonderful way to start the year, you think. 

Lewis moves next to you, standing up a bit disoriented but with determination on his face. “A’right get up,” he says too enthusiastically for almost 6 am, “we have to pick all of this mess.”

You snort, ”Are you crazy?” 

“As ever,” he giggles, “Now, get up!”

This man is incredibly drunk, but so are you, so you stand up, your head spinning around each planet you can barely remember. Lewis puts his hands around your hips, holding you in place, “Lew, I feel like I'm going to fall and die. Oh my god!”

“Not true,” the Brit says, “you promised you’d die with me, and I’m not doing that today.”

You roll your eyes at that, laughing. 

Cleaning up—if you can call two drunk idiots laughing like crazy while trying to remove a stain of wine from the ceiling that—isn’t as awful. Spotify’s ‘Top Hits of 2023’ is playing in the background as you pick up the plastic cups on the floor, Lewis searching for dirty bottles around the house to then be wrapped around each other while cleaning them. The glittery floor is a lost cause, both try to recollect as much as you can with the broom but give up knowing you’ll be surrounded by it for the rest of the year. 

The house looks clean enough in your exhausted eyes by 8 am. Lewis follows you to the bedroom, briefly showering together before dropping under the cloud-like covers, dark curtains forbidding the early sun from disturbing your shortly-approaching sleep. 

You are curled up on Lewis’ chest when you hear him say: “Happy New Year, love.” 

“Happy New Year, Lew.”

EXTRA BIT!! ( 591 words )

“You know,” Lewis calls, arms wrapped around your body as you lay on his bare chest, “I’ve been thinking, well, overthinking, and I want to, like, get it out.”

He pauses, his anxiety clear in the way he speeds up the tender touches on your back. You look up at him, making a small motion of encouragement. He smiles.

“Half of the people today were strangers, friends of friends, and it reminded me that, once, you were a friend of friends. I don’t really know where I’m going with this, but I don’t want us to be like that ever again,” he says, stumbling on words. “I don’t want to call you a stranger; I’ve done that with enough people I’ve loved—not in the way I love you, but loved nonetheless. I’m just so sorry I was so late to this,” he whispers, and you want to interrupt, reminding him that you also played into it, but he talks first: “I know you were also scared to tell me; you don’t have to say it, but you just didn’t deserve all that waiting.”

You search for his hand, needing to hold it. He understands and wraps one of his around yours, taking a deep breath. He says your name before continuing. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, ever. I was scared because of those stupid things I used to tell myself, and you know the rumors around my last relationship. I was terrified of doing the same thing—being too greedy and distancing myself when things got bad—but I didn’t want to lose you. I do not want to lose you.” Lewis says, and you squish his hand three times, reassuring. You feel another breath being taken. “And I know we are okay; we are so wonderful, sweetheart. You’ve taught me so much, but I can’t stop thinking about the what-ifs. What if we have some inconceivable fight? What if the distance during next season messes with us? What if I screw up and you don’t want to see me ever again?”

“I really don’t want to lose you. I love you too much,” he concludes.

You feel tears crowding your eyes, wondering when did he started thinking about all of this. You sit up, looking down at his beautiful face in the faint darkness. His eyes are so full of emotion, so caring and afraid. You cup his face in your hands, leaning down to peck his lips.

“I love you too, so incredibly much. Thank you for opening up,” you said, knowing it was hard for him to talk about these topics. “But, Lew, trust me when I tell you that, as long as both of us are willing to fight for it, we won’t go back to being strangers. When these types of thoughts are overwhelming you again, talk to me, let me know, and we will discuss them together." He has tears in his eyes, and you are sure yours are already streaming down. “Don’t try to read the last page; whatever is written there can change, and if it doesn’t, who cares? Maybe we are set up to die together, just like I promised you, yeah? I’ll hold your hand through it.”

He brings you down to his arms, giving you the warmest hug in the freezing winter. He cries, and you do too, talking here and there, leaving kisses everywhere, drowning in each other's touches. Lewis believes this is the best start to a year he’s ever had.

taglist — @smartstupyd @ziarah @nouvellevqgue @iloveyou3000morgan @carsgovroomm @goldenalbon @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @panicsinvirgo . . . add yourself here

[max-uhhhh-talks]

It's honestly insane how there are people who ship copiiia and act like the people who don't are the ones creating unsafe spaces in communities.

Ghost is a band that acknowledges the traumas that people have experienced, whether that be through music or speeches on stage. Everyone here knows that everyone has their own things they're going through or have been through. For the most part, the community is general safe and understanding of people who have been through stuff and thus have their reasonable dislikes for certain topics or dynamic portrayals.

That is, until the copiiia antis are the ones who dislike the ship and the amount of people supporting it.

So we're all clear, Copia and Terzo (including primo and secondo) are brothers. Canonically, they are blood related. It's a fact that is crucial to the storyline of the band, and one that should be acknowledged and respected. It's the bare minimum, yeah?

Countless times within the past year and a half, Copia has referred to Nihil as his dad. The movie, within the first like 3 minutes, states outright that Nihil is his father and Sister Imperator is his mother. This means Copia is brothers with Nihils other three children.

So tell me why so many of you support the ship of Copia and Terzo, knowing full well they're blood related brothers? And don't pull the "in my au, they're not" because that's even worse. You acknowledge that they're related in canon, but you do not respect it. You intentionally go out of your way to make an alternate universe in which they are not brothers. And what do you mainly portray within that "au?"

Incest.

Plain and simple, you portray incest in both romantic and sexual ways. And you see nothing wrong with this. Full grown legal adults, drawing, writing, promoting images of incest.

And what do you do when someone says "hey incest is bad?" You try to defend it with your "au." Keyword, try. Because no one with a brain is on board with that "defense."And what about the people who have their own negative experiences with similar subjects? "Not my problem," "just block if you don't want to see it."

So let's get this straight. You come into a fandom, one in which you know everyone has their own personal traumas. You create images or writings of incest, rape, etc. You tag those creations with the standard fandom tag, and then you get mad when people end up seeing it from that standard fandom tag and calling you out on it. You come into a fandom and create an unsafe environment for unsuspecting individuals. And you get mad others call you out?

Your sense of a moral code is so warped, you jump and leap and grasp at any straws you can at an attempt to defend yourself.

Create problematic content, expect to be called out for it. Come into a community in which the band themselves tries to create into a safe space, and post harmful and triggering content, often unfiltered? Expect to be called out. And that's not even mentioning you all, oftentimes adults, harassing people in their inboxes because they said copiiia is incest and bad.

It's baffling, the mental gymnastics you make at an attempt to seem like you're not creating disgusting content. And then to blame the ones saying it's harmful, to say that we're the ones creating an unsafe space? That we're the reason the fandom isn't safe?

There is no word to describe the absurdity within your audacity. And there's unfortunately hardly any saving people like you. You guys don't even deserve well thought out conversations on the matter. If this fandom is unsafe to you and your incest shipping, because people understandably do not want to be seeing any of that while harmlessly scrolling through art of all forms of their favorite characters, I have a suggestion.

Leave. You are unwanted here. You always will be.

[verlierer-is-lost]

I have been wanting to talk about this for a while, especially since I keep seeing it on Twitter

For the most part, I agree with this tweet. I struggle to make the PJO cast look like themselves. It’s really important to get those features right. That being said, we also have to remember that a good chunk of the PJO fan artists are inexperienced artists. While there are a lot of artists who are just flat out racist, there’s also the group of artists who have a harder time drawing from life. I’ve seen so many amazing artist who clearly know how to draw black people, but their Annabeth fanart still doesn’t look like Leah.

No hate to the op, again I think she’s right to an extent, but it is so frustrating seeing mainly non artists saying this. And there are so many people in the comments saying “it’s so easy” when it really isn’t. Drawing from life is a skill that comes with practice. And whether you know how to draw black people or not, you’re probably going to have a tough time drawing any of the PJO cast if you don’t have that skill. Thankfully tho, there are a few simple ways you can improve on drawing from like:

I have some notes for Walker and Leah specifically, just because I think they’re the hardest to get right. (I know this probably seems creepy, but it’s so helpful to look at refs) This is all basic info you can find anywhere, it’s not revolutionary or anything

Walker:

-The eyebrows to me are the most important part. They’re much darker, and close to his eyes.

-He also has a pretty straight nose. Drawing him with a button nose will make him look like a random white blond boy

Leah:

-Again, the eyes and eyebrows are pretty important. Her eyebrows are thin and long. And her eyes have shadows underneath(plus she kinda has doll like eyes)

-round face

To show what I’m talking about, I did a quick doodle of Leah from reference. For me personally, when I draw from life I like to pick out a few distinct features that makes them feel real. It’s pretty bad because again I’m not the type of artist to typically draw from life, which is why art study’s can be super helpful to spend time on.

I really dislike when non artist complain about what fan artists are doing. We do this for free, in our free time, for a community that we love. But I also think it’s important to LISTEN TO CRITIQUES. If someone is telling you your Annabeth fanart is too light, you need to listen. As much as I agree with OP that this is predominantly a Leah issue, it isn’t just Leah. I can see throughout the fandom that a lot of artists are having a hard time drawing the characters(and I’m one of them). The PJO fandom has not had real people to base their drawings off of until two years ago, which is probably the reason a lot of us are having trouble with it. Even outside of this fandom I have a hard time with this. It took so much practice for me to get Alex and Henry right from RWRB, and I still can barely draw Henry 😭

Even some of the most experienced artist have difficulty drawing from life, again it’s a skill that takes practice. Anytime you see PJO fanart that actually looks like the actors, it’s probably because they just have more practice, or they’re more experienced artists.

I’m honestly having a hard time finding what OP is talking about when she said “artists draw Annabeth as a random black girl while referencing Walker for Percy” I was looking through saved work of other Percabeth fanart, and I see the same issue for Walker. I don’t doubt that there is work out there she’s referring to, I just can’t find it myself.

Sorry if this was a garbled mess of a post. I know it was really long, but hopefully this can help some artists to pick up on distinct facial features and replicate it in their own artwork. Trust me, as an artist I know it isn’t easy, but practice will always help. Best thing about being an artist is there’s always room for improvement

(Also don’t forget to give Leah black features 👍🏽)

[dumbassalex]

I just tried reading Deadpool and Wolverine: Weapon X-traction, emphasis on TRY, but I genuinely couldn't make it through, I hate this Wade, I hate the Ryan Reynolds wannabe sound Ryan North tries to give him, how heavily he goes into "smart" pop-culture references and being meta about how comics and movies written and how the stories work, it's so lazy, I hate it. He sounds like what a boomer thinks Gen-Z talks like.

Also you can tell this was written around the movie so Marvel could bank on the hype because it's ALSO a multiverse story, whitch completely personaly...fuck off with that.

And am i the only one thrown off by the art in terms of Logans proportions? While i like a beefy Logan his arms and legs look so short next to his body it makes him look off. Same with drawing pupils on the eyes, gives me uncanny valley feelings tbh.

Speaking of Logan, i am getting barely any of his character exept telling Wade to shut up and fuck off while using him as a landing mat, and for some reason calls Wade "kid" whitch i have never seen before and it makes me kinda uncomortable considering the homoerotic vibes they have at the end of the story.

ALSO DID WADE JUST TRY TO KILL A CHILD?! WADE??! The guy who was againts killing APOCALYPSE because he was a kid that still had a chance to be better?! That just took me out of the story completely. Both Wade and Logan are written so flatly and one-dimensionaly with such a bland basicly non-existent story i feel like the only reason the fandom likes it is because of THOSE few panels of some hinted gayness where Logan felt stupidly out of character in a moment purely for bad fan service that broke my suspension of disbelief, because i refuse to believe these two are best buds in every other universe space-kid watches over.

And sidenote, i'll file this story down as another of the MANY reasons i don't like kids.

Want a good Deadpool and Wolverine team-up story that 2024 gave us? Read Deadpool & Wolverine: WW3 by Joe Kelly with art by Adam Kubert, there the two are in-character, have sweet emotional moments, fight, involve body-horror and it doesn't involve boring multiverse shit or an anoying space god kid.

[softspeirs]

hello! could i please request "remembering things they told them" for mota - dealer's choice on characters and/or ocs?💕 — @shoshiwrites

A/N: @shoshiwrites My gut said more John Egan so here we are. This follows this loosely but you don't need to have read it first.

two. dark skies (i remember)

Three cups of coffee the next morning is barely enough to get her out of bed and moving, but she's back in the pub bright and early. They don't do breakfast, but they open at noon, and she promised herself she'd try to put the day before out of her mind.

She's wiping down the bar when she hears the door open. "We're closed--" She stops when she sees Major Egan. He's twisting the brim of his hat in his hands and looking anywhere but at her. "Morning, Major." She says. "Unfortunately we're still closed... no matter how many of those shiny pins you have on your lapel."

His smile is small. "I just wanted to--" He sighs, looking skyward like he's trying to find the right words. "Look, I'm sorry I was an asshole last night."

He doesn't apologize for his language or look at her like she's going to be offended, which she appreciates.

She still doesn't like the look in his eyes. It's... blank. A bit of remorse there, but something else, too. Something dark and closed off, and she hates that she can tell. That she's spent enough time trying to guess what he's thinking that she can tell his moods apart.

"It's alright, Major."

"No it isn't." He's firm, but not unkind. From behind his back, he pulls out a small, small bouquet of flowers.

She doesn't think she's ever seen Major Egan look anything than confident, cocky, and sure of himself. But this look? She wishes she had a camera.

"I remember you said you like daisies," he says quietly, holding it out towards her, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck.

She's taken aback - the idea that he remembers anything she's said when they've been surrounded by everyone else is crazy to her. "That's-- no offense Major, but I thought you were three sheets to the wind when this conversation was going on."

A group of rowdy aviators, each one of them bragging about the nicest thing they ever did for a girl, and then the competition to see who could outdo the other... it ended with her chiming in from the bar that all she needed was a picnic and some daisies and she'd be happy, just like most other girls her age. No grand gestures necessary.

This feels like a grand gesture, sort of. Her heart rate kicks up when she takes the flowers from him, their fingertips brushing.

"Did you pick these from some unsuspecting housewife's garden?" She asks, narrowing her eyes.

His eyes light up with amused indignation. "Did I--" His voice is half laugh. "I'll have you know I gave some of my hard earned coin to Mrs. Henderson down the road for these."

"You didn't have to do that."

He shrugs. "I know-- I know you were just looking out for me when I came by here last night. You didn't deserve my... bad attitude."

She doesn't know what to say. She has no idea what he's going through. She has her own heartbreak every time she opens the door for business and sees fewer and fewer airmen walking through the door. But these men, his friends? How is he possibly handling that?

"You, uh... you let us in here night after night and have never kicked us out even when we deserved it. And I... I don't know." He shrugs. "Buck went down yesterday. And I'm angry as hell and all I wanted was to drown it."

She looks down. "I'm sorry I turned you away."

His eyes are clear when he meets her gaze. "Don't be. You were right." He rolls his eyes at himself. "But don't go tellin' anyone I said that."

"You're flying today." It's not a question.

"I have to--" He shakes his head. "It's my job." He straightens, drawing himself back to his full height. "Anyway. I just wanted to..." he trails off, gesturing to the flowers still in her hand. "I should go."

He turns, and she remembers him like that the night before, telling her she shouldn't get attached to any of them. She remembers, but suddenly she doesn't care.

It's too late anyway.

"Bucky." She says his nickname for the first time, and he turns faster than she expected, his eyes widening with-- hope? Surprise? "Take this. For luck."

She hands him a single daisy. Takes a deep breath, raises herself up on her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek.

It all happens in a second. A heartbeat.

And it's that second, that heartbeat that she plays over and over again in her mind later that night when Captain Rosenthal's plane comes back alone.

[starcurtain]

Haikaveh Fanfics I Really Want to Read (Part 1)

Part 2. ->

1. A run-in with a cursed artifact on a research trip leaves Alhaitham intangible and invisible. He can't be seen, heard, or even open his precious books (which is the real tragedy here). Things go from bad to worse when it's discovered that the only person who can break the curse is someone who "knows Alhaitham by heart."

Problem is, nobody does. The only one who might even come close is Kaveh, and will he really be willing to go out of his way to research Alhaitham's deepest secrets just to bring his scathing roommate back?

Turns out the answer is yes, and Alhaitham is left invisibly watching over Kaveh's increasingly desperate attempts to learn more about the most private person in all of Sumeru.

Yeah... Alhaitham's probably doomed.

(Or: The Akademiya's erstwhile scribe has nothing better to do than stalk follow his roommate around unseen, gets a front row seat to Kaveh's tough life, undergoes the mortifying ordeal of being known, and realizes just how much his own cold nature has left him isolated from the world.)

Rest under the read more:

2. Another research trip gone wrong: While Kaveh's out of town on a job and without a shield this time, Alhaitham takes a nasty knock to the head during a fight. Although he wakes up all right, he doesn't have the faintest idea who or where he is. Quick-thinking nature intact, Alhaitham decides to fake his way through on context clues for a while. It's an interesting experiment, after all, to learn about his own life from an outsider's perspective.

Too bad a very silly series of coincidences occur (i.e. Kaveh took most of his work things with him for his trip, so his room is pretty bare; they wash their laundry together to save water; and everyone keeps asking Alhaitham why some mysterious "Kaveh" guy isn't with him), all of which lead Alhaitham to the absolutely incorrect assumption that this missing "Kaveh" person is his significant other. Imagine Kaveh's shock when he returns home to a very out-of-character greeting...

(But I mean, really, does Alhaitham need his memories back? This is kind of nice, you know...)

3. Requirements for a Desirable Life (According to Alhaitham):

1. Match your actions to your talents (read as: go with the flow) 2. Low stress, high paying job (read as: the balancing act between making oneself seem indispensable while underachieving as much as possible is a talent) 3. Nice home with a short commute (read as: at-home lunch hours every day) 4. Books (read as: soon as possible) 5. Kaveh (read as: the light of my life who I moved into my house through admittedly somewhat underhanded tactics just to keep him close to me, but what was I supposed to do--tell him I have actual feelings? Impossible, in the most literal of senses)

Or: Alhaitham pursues his plan for an ideal lifestyle in an utterly single-minded and undeterrable fashion... except when comes to his roommate, who--for someone so good at drawing up his own designs--also seems terribly good at ruining Alhaitham's.

Just fall in love with me already.

(Basically, I just want to see Alhaitham be the pining one for once. He is one checkmark away from his dream life, but he'd rather sell his soul to Lord Sangemah Bay than confess without knowing how Kaveh feels first.)

4. Alhaitham is preeminently capable. He's beyond a genius. His research could rewrite the laws of reality if he tried hard enough. But he's also... terrible with people. Actually, terrible is an understatement. If Alhaitham is murdered one day, it'll be because he finally committed one too many social faux pas and honestly the masses will probably say he had it coming. Thank the lesser lord that the Akademiya's scribe has someone as gregarious as Kaveh around to help him mend his obtuse ways, right?

Or: Five times Kaveh tried to lecture Alhaitham on social skills, and the one time Alhaitham put all those lessons into practice... on Kaveh.

5. The very silly comedy one: If someone were to ask Kaveh what the very worst thing about living with Alhaitham is, he'd say--well, first he'd say "Who told you?!", but after that, he'd say something that might come as a surprise. The worst thing about living with Alhaitham isn't their constant snarking and diametrically-opposed mindsets. It isn't the tacky, asymmetrical furniture Alhaitham keeps bringing home because it was "practical and inexpensive." (Kaveh's skin is crawling.) It isn't even the fact that his so-called "landlord" reminds Kaveh all too often about his unpaid rent while never lifting a finger himself to do the dishes.

Nope. The worst thing about living with Alhaitham is the experiments.

"How many books can I leave on top of Kaveh's sketches before he yells at me?"

"How angry will Kaveh get if I drink the expensive wine he brought home last night?"

"How many days will it take Kaveh to notice I keep rearranging all the stuff on his shelves while he's out?"

"How many times can I suggest he add Aranara statues to his designs before he tries to strangle me?"

It's bullying, is what it is! There's no limits to Alhaitham's behavior when his curiosity is piqued--the only thing that matters to him is the answer to whatever outrageous new question he's thought up in that thick head of his. And of course, the louder Kaveh shouts, the more "experiments" Alhaitham seems to dream up...

Honestly, someone ought to give him a taste of his own medicine!

(Or: Alhaitham and Kaveh end up in an exponentially escalating social experiment competition, pushing as hard as they can to find the other's boundaries. One of them has to break and give up soon, right?! Too bad Alhaitham's the god of stubbornness, and Kaveh's eternal peace of mind is on the line--if he can just win this, Alhaitham will finally give it up and quit bothering him! He can't chicken out first!

Because they're both very Normal™, it turns out there's not a single boundary to be found.

Well, at least answering the question "How many times can I walk in on him in the shower before he kicks me out of the house?" might save them some money on the water bill?

By the way, Kaveh wins. It turns out the answer to "How many dog ears can I fold into the pages of Alhaitham's books before he tries to kill me?" is 0.)

[trinkerichi]

What is your oppion on ribbun?

OOOH that's Jax/Gangle right? Oh boy you probably aren't asking for this but I feel like doing a big ramble and this is gonna be a long one. CHARACTER ANALYSIS INCOMING!

I'll preface this by saying I don't usually get too invested in shipping. I really like drawing interesting character dynamics tho, so I'll play around with the ships I see without really sticking to one. It's why I tend to draw a LOT of different ships only a few times each.

I'll ALSO preface by saying I really uh. Don't like Jax very much lmao I'm sorry. I'm not opposed to jerk characters in general, but I just didn't think any of his lines were funny. BUT I think that comes down to the fact that we only have a pilot and haven't seen much of their personalities yet. My favorite jerk characters, (Osomatsu, Bender, etc) all balance out their jerkiness by being dorky insecure losers that almost never win in the end so you kinda feel bad for them. I think if Jax ends up being written that way I'll become endeared to him. And goose has revealed before that none of the others actually like Jax so I kinda want to see that.

On the other hand, Gangle is my favorite character. She has barely 2 minutes of screen time but I love her concept so much. A friend called me out for this recently lol but all my BIG FAVS are characters that are themed around strong divided emotions. Pretending they're happy even when they're not, and having a hard time controlling their emotions as a result. (The latest ENA episode was a great example of this. Anyway.) Gangle being a sensitive flimsy pile of ribbons with a literal mask for a face? The fact that the tragedy mask seems to be her REAL face, while the comedy mask is so fragile that breaks if you so much as breathe on it too hard? I find that COMPELLING I want to see a whole series about her honestly.

Pairing her with Jax was inevitable, as is any fandom ship where the characters hate each other in canon. I usually hate this kind of pairing but this time I found it kinda fascinating! I think it's cause we don't really know a whole lot about either one of them so there's a lot of room to explore their characters through it.

I really do feel like Jax could hold a specific resentment towards Gangle. He's obviously not handling being stuck in the circus well, and he's bullying easy targets. He plays dirty. A person with high self esteem doesn't do that. Maybe he takes it out on Gangle because he hates how open she is about her feelings. He's putting on a tough and uncaring front, trying to pretend nothing bothers him, and she's out here being sensitive and fragile? How dare she! He's pushing her to her limits and she still won't harden herself. She doesn't have the energy to! Maybe she feels like she doesn't deserve to defend herself. It's so unhealthy! It's horrible!... And uh, sometimes horrible things are fun to write! DON'T JUDGE ME.

(And just so nobody accuses me of being insensitive here, without revealing too much, I've been in Gangle's place before. That's all I'll say.)

So with relationship stuff oh boy. We can take all those toxic traits to their extremes. But who would be the instigator?

What if Gangle coped with Jax's bullying by becoming more clingy. Becoming used to it.. Seeking him out. After all, he's paying attention to her right? Her warped self image being depressed and isolated in this circus for years would drive her to wanting any kind of stimulation.. does she realize this is self harm? What's it going to take for someone to step in before it goes too far?

Or on the other hand, what if Jax's fixation on bullying Gangle got mixed up in some more complex feelings.. If he really wanted to, I can see him manipulating her into a relationship just to see how many boundaries he can cross. He could have her wrapped around his little finger. Literally. He DOES have some misplaced affection for her deep down. He won't let himself think about it long enough to understand it, he's acting on impulse. She's uncomfortable but thankful for the seemingly lessened cruelty, so she puts up with it. And sometimes, rarely, between the thinly veiled insults disguised as compliments, he says something truly genuine and vulnerable. She can see it. He needs help. He needs love. But they're both hurting each other even more. It's wrong, but they're stuck now.

And now.. for the drama. Nobody can be pushed that far before snapping. As is the usual trope with soft spoken pushover characters, Gangle is a ticking time bomb. And I don't think she'd be willing to abstract entirely because of Jax, at least without clawing her way down.

Here's a fun fact. Have you seen that walk cycle video? Jax is tall, sure, but Gangle is PRETTY DARN TALL TOO. and she slouches. With her ribbons stretched to their full length she would tower over everybody. I want to see her get angry and be SCARY. I want her to stand up to Jax and lash out and scream and see him Genuinely Terrified. Everyone else caught in the crossfire too, covered in ribbon slashes. It wouldn't last forever. If the tension doesn't cause her to abstract she'll calm down eventually, or someone will be forced to break her mask to snap her out of the tantrum. Jax would pretend it didn't shake him at all, but would be noticeably quiet afterwards. Kinda shifting uncomfortably, they both avoid eye contact for as long as possible. His teasing towards Gangle never goes beyond slight ribbing again.

Whew.

Ok uh if you read this far, I don't LIKE the ship but it's a great character exercise! Hah I've thought a lot about it clearly. That being said, i usually prefer sweet cuddly ships myself. I think my favorite is Gangle/Pomni. I haven't seen this one around much, but those two are my favorite characters in the show and I'd love to see them interact! I think they could help each other with their anxieties and it'd be really cute. I don't even necessarily need it to be romantic I just think they'd have a sweet little dynamic together.

Surprisingly I've seen Gangle shipped with Zooble the most even though they haven't talked at all either and Zooble has like.. 2 lines. It might be cute but I wanna know more about them first.

As for Gangle n Kinger, I prefer them to have more of a father daughter type dynamic.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hey so I’m a uni student IE very poor and I really like GMless games so I wondering if there is any free or pay what you feel like GM less games? Bonus points for either cute animal type games, world building or superpowers game.

THEME: Free/Cheap GM-Less Games

Hello friend, I think I have a really awesome collection of games for you to try out. I tried to focus on lighthearted games that fit at least one of your themes. All of these games are either free or pay-what-you-want!

Rats in Space, by Jay Writes.

The year is 2392. A colony of rats have found themselves stowed away on the Endeavor, a cruise-class luxury spaceship. They live in the lower decks, nibbling on wires, stealing the engineer’s lunches, fighting off pest-bots. It’s a simple life. One day, a member of the colony discovered something: Velindian Cheese, the most treasured kind of cheese to all rats in the sector, hidden in the ship’s Kitchen. The colony got together, and they have decided: they must get that cheese!

Rats in Space is a one-page GM-less TTRPG where you and your friends take on the role of Rats on a spaceship. Your mission is to get the Cheese that's hidden away in the ship's kitchen. A silly game with psychic rats, robot cats, and depressed space captains.

This is a goofy little game with a simple enough premise: get the Cheese. You set your little rats up with stats, and then roll on the Inspiration table to determine what obstacles are standing in the way. Conquer three obstacles and you’ll get your hand on a little cheesy snack! However, if you lose your collective morale, you are forced to panic and scatter - and no Cheese for you. Rats in Space is great for light-hearted hi-jinx, and is very very cute.

Class Protector, by Chloe Sutherland.

Strange things happen in your high school. Horrors lurk in the dark, unnoticed by most in the school. Fortunately, there’s one person who always seems to be in the right place at the right time. She’ll deny it but all the gossip ties back to her and the unexplainable powers she seems to wield. 

You are not the Chosen One. You are everyone else.

A simple GM-less game using a deck of cards. Act as the students of a high school secretly under threat from the supernatural, develop the Class Protector and her mysterious power through their rumours, then discover which theories were correct.

Class Protector is a game of high school bystanders creating a superhero through myths and rumours. You’ll take turns drawing cards and using prompts to help you figure out who exactly your protector is and what she can do. During the final round, you’ll witness her fight with the Big Bad, and determine how many rumours are actually true - and whether you survive. If you like a game with suspense, told from a unique point of view, you might like this game.

The Guides of MechaFauna Valley, by BESW.

“THE GUIDES OF MECHAFAUNA” by B. West is a game made for children, by a young park ranger barely out of childhood themself. I reproduce it here as I found it: photocopied on a sheaf of mint and salmon office paper, the pasted-on images sometimes almost illegible. But the game is playable and the glimpse of my friend’s future childhood is captivating.

This game is described as a cooperative, feel-good card-using roleplaying game. It is a game about a caravan of travellers making their way through a national park populated by mechanical beasts. As guides, you are responsible for ensuring that the caravan makes it through safely without endangering the local wildlife. The game expects all players to play a Valley Guide, but there is also a character sheet that is available for the group to use together: The Valley Voice. This game is currently still in beta, so it looks like another character sheet is in the works!

While there are still pieces missing, this is already a 20-page game with a hefty oracle full of prompts. If you like a game about exploration and adventure, but without the pressure of character endangerment, you’ll probably like this game.

Star-Spawned, by Penguin King Games. (@prokopetz)

One unearthly night, a ray of colourless light descended from the stars, and under its warping radiance, creatures unlike any the world has ever seen were born. They do not know the world, and they do not know themselves. Unfortunately for the world, they're quick learners!

Star-Spawned is a GMless, oneshot-oriented tabletop RPG in which you don't know what your own traits do when play begins. The names of each group's stats are randomly generated using morpheme chaining, and characters are created while having absolutely no idea what they mean; figuring that out forms the greater part of play.

Star-Spawned is a world-building game in that you discover the world as you discover yourselves. Players generate Facets and assign ratings to them without knowing what those facets do beforehand, and then experiment with their use as they play. Players will take turns describing what they want to do, and when one character takes the spotlight, the rest of the table provides the setting details. You finish the game when you have a definition for each facet on your Discovery sheet.

This game has a lot of breadth, and can explore a lot of different settings and kinds of adventure, and the place where you start will probably determine a lot about the tone of your game. If you enjoy randomness and figuring out a mystery together, you might like Star-Spawned.

Wonderfall Reinvigorated, by J.C. Pereira.

In this violence free, diceless and GMless game, you play as curious kids who are living in a hotel and secretly transform into pets. Your goal is to reinvigorate Wonderfall by befriending the leaving villagers and guiding the sparse visitors, to make this town habitable again. Uncover truths while growing up in this outlandish town.

This is an exploration game more than anything else. Players each create a town secret, and use drawing references to build the Hotel and its surrounding locations. You draw cards to help determine the kinds of locations that you’ll visit. The game comes with a bunch of random tables for character creation, locations, secrets, NPC information and more. You’ll draw cards from the Destiny deck every time you need to overcome a challenge, and use Aces to represent their hobbies that will help them solve problems.

I like the ways this game gives your characters adventure without resorting to violence to solve their problems. I think this game has a lot of potential to tell Studio Ghibli-like stories, so if you like that genre, you might like this game.

RPG From the Other Side, by stuffed tern.

a wizard has transformed one of your bandmates into a large raccoonyou’re going on a quest to change them backbefore they forget who they arethe band’s all coming with you (yes, even the raccoon) the power of music is on your side. you will see this through.

RPG FROM THE OTHER SIDE is a one-page TTRPG for one or more friends embarking on a quest of music and mayhem. 

The text mentions a GM, but GM-less play is possible with players doing collaborative storytelling, or using a system such as Trophy.

This is a simple one-page rpg with a humorous premise - you’re trying to turn your raccoon band-mate back into their human self. Setup includes determining your goal, your characters, and your special weapon or ability. Your characters have a resource called Stardust, which gives you d6s to roll in challenging situations. You can spend Stardust to lend aid to a teammate, or lose it when you take harm, but you can also gain it back if you give up a memory that you cherish.

There aren’t any prompts to help guide your play after the initial setup, so this game is best suited for a group that is comfortable with a lot of improv.

2 Month Magical Girl, by Dondougo.

In 2 Month Magical Girl, you play as ordinary magical girls. Your days are relatively ordinary, as you study and hang out at school. At night you hit the town, as well as the various malicious magical beings that prowl it. You make memories, you make friends, and the next day you wake up and do it all again!

But something's changed, and things are getting weirder by the day. Illegible symbols are appearing everywhere, the weather is stuck in a cloudy haze. What's even weirder is that your magical powers seem to be hiding something from you. As if they're trying to keep you from understanding the truth behind what's really going on.

With time running out, you're left wondering what else is being hidden from you and what it all means. What will you do when the truth is finally revealed?

This is the chunkiest game on this list, with 98 pages of rules, lore and character options. There are 5 playbooks to choose from, making character creation relatively simple to follow, and a font of roll tables to help facilitate GM-less play. Definitely worth checking out!

[tytangfei]

now that In Blossom is over...

i'm going to briefly compare ju jingyi's version of yang caiwei versus zheng hehuizi's version (the first actress) to answer the question of 'is ju jingyi's verson in character according to what we know of yang caiwei in the first two episodes and in childhood flashbacks?'

why? because a lot of people have a reluctance to start this drama due to ju jingyi. i get it, she's not everyone's cup of tea. also, she has a harder task in this drama as the actress that plays the second version of female lead, and many think that she didn't step it up.

but i wanted to throw my thoughts out there in case anyone was willing to give her/the drama a chance. does ju jingyi's version feel in character, and thus, tolerable?

yeah, mostly.

zheng hehuizi's version is just, mature, and sensible. but we know from flashbacks that she wasn't just serious all the time; with her friends, she was cheerful and bright. even at the little kids who bullied her in episode 1, she played a prank on them--showcasing a silly sense of humor and ability to shrug off judgements after years of discrimination. the main reason why she was serious in the first two eps was because she was trying to push pan yue away. (and also she was worried about her sick master.)

ju jingyi's version also was pretty much the same. she was just, smart, and wary of pan yue (rightly so). the reason why she acted extra super cheerful was because she was trying to show to pan yue that she, shangguan zhi, had changed. by doing this, she was hoping to draw his eyes away from her so she could investigate. that's why i accepted the fact that ju jingyi's version could be almost too much with the quirky acts; it was initially for a good reason. once she believed in pan yue, her character wasn't so quirky anymore, because she didn't need to be over-the-top about everything. once the quirkyness disappeared, she felt more attuned to the first version we saw.

so, in terms of whether it's in character and coherent, i would say yeah, it feels enough. it's not perfect, but it's just enough to get through (though the last parts of the drama didn't give much to her character...i say more on this near the end.)

the reality is we really didn't get to see much of zheng hehuizi's version so we really don't have that much as a frame of reference. in fact, we barely get flashbacks to when yang caiwei struggled after her parents died, and her learning coroner skills from her master. because of this, i'm forced by the story to just accept that ju jingyi's version is accurate/correct.

which isn't all bad. ju jingyi's version have several shining moments. (one of my fav scenes of her is when she's drunk and confesses she's not "shangguan zhi" but pan yue doesn't believe her, so she stares at pan yue achingly with these wide regretful sad eyes. we know her conflict, we know why she can't tell him the truth yet! it's heartbreaking.)

but what i've noticed, especially toward the end of the drama, is that ju jingyi's version actually doesn't get that much time to show her character's interiority. we don't get to see her, just by herself, thinking and feeling. the most obvious example of this is when she's in jail! and has been tortured!! and we see NOTHING except she's leaning against the wall and ignoring the food and jail guards. no thoughts, no words about her situation or reminiscing about her family or her master or concerns about her friends or pan yue??? she might die, does she not feel regretful that she hasn't brought justice to her family???? she just silently endures. that might be a testament to her strength of character, but as a viewer, i'm scratching my head. i'm not that compelled by her just sitting there. i need her to say or do something.

now, with the drama all wrapped up, i can definitely say that pan yue has so much more growth and growing than yang caiwei. even his relationship with his father gets a little redemption arc. pan yue becomes the biggest main character. yang caiwei, on the other hand, kind of stops growing once she and pan yue gets together.

whether it's by writing or her own acting or editing, yang caiwei ultimately is an underutilized character. we could've seen more of her character's growth to perhaps appreciate ju jingyi's version more. but we didn't get that, for better or for worse. i liked both versions of yang caiwei in the end. just wanted a bit more for her.

[ladykailitha]

Ser Stephan of Harring’s Town Part 2

Just remember that 20 slots for tagging is the max.

Part 1

*

The next day Steve had barely been up for a twenty minutes when there was a knock on the door.

He opened it to reveal a very nervous Will on the other side.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Will said with a sigh of relief. “I was worried I came over too early.”

Steve laughed. “Can’t get rid of the early wake up call from sports. Come on in. You have breakfast yet?”

Will shook his head.

“I was about to make some scrambled eggs. You want any?”

“Sure,” Will said with a furrowed brow. “You don’t have to.”

Steve smiled. “I know.”

He made them some scrambled eggs and poured them both a glass of milk.

“Where did you learn to cook like that?” Will asked.

“PBS,” Steve said.

Will raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

Steve shrugged. “I didn’t have anyone to teach me and my parents weren’t around.”

“I would have that thought that with all the money, you would be ordering take out and fast food all the time,” Will said with a half shrug. “I would have.”

Steve smiled tightly. “I probably would have, too. But that much junk food and shit makes for a shit poor athlete and I was in three sports.”

“Three?” Will asked. “I knew about the basketball and swimming, but what’s the third?”

“Baseball,” Steve said. “All of the seasons lined up so I could be in one right after the other until almost the end of the school year. Kept me busy until I was old enough to take care of myself.”

“Wow,” Will said. “Your parents really didn’t like you, did they?”

“Nope!” Steve scoffed. “I’ll be right back with my art stuff.”

When he came back downstairs Will was waiting for him in the front room. He had two sketch pads both have finished.

“I only took a couple of art classes in high school to fill out my electives. So like I said they aren’t anything special.”

He handed them to Will.

Will took them from him and began flipping through. “A lot of static poses, but not bad. You’ve got the basics down and you can tell they’re all different characters.”

Steve blushed. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, really,” Will said, coming up to sit next to him. “Here let me show you what I mean.”

And he did, after he was done, Steve was feeling better about his art.

Will picked up the other drawing pad and a slip of folded paper fluttered to the ground. He frowned as he opened it. Inside was a very good likeness of Eddie.

“Wow,” Will whispered. “That’s really good.”

Steve frowned and then looked over Will’s shoulder. He resisted the urge to snatch the drawing from his hands.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Steve muttered.

“Why?” Will asked, confused. “It’s the best thing I’ve seen so far.”

Steve brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “It’s only good, because if you draw the same thing over and over again, you can’t help but improve.”

Will looked down at the drawing of Eddie again. “How many times have you drawn him?”

“I have seven drawing notebooks, and those are the only two that aren’t filled with drawings of Eddie Munson.” Steve buried his head into his knees.

“Do you like boys, Steve?” Will asked gently.

Steve lifted his head slowly. “I think I like both.”

“Wow,” Will muttered. “It is true what they say.”

“What do they say?” Steve asked, furrowing his brow.

“That like attracts like,” Will said. “That in a small town all the weirdos and queers flock together even subconsciously because they can sense it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t a little strange, that you’re bisexual, me, Eddie, and Robin are gay, and that likely others in the group are some variation on that theme?”

Steve looked at Will for a moment. “Oh.”

He felt this weight lifted off his chest. And then it really hit him.

“Eddie’s gay?!”

Will laughed. “I was wondering when you were going to pick up on that.”

“Oh that makes perfect sense,” Steve said with a laugh. “I thought he was teasing me. Turns out he was flirting with me.” He just started laughing and couldn’t stop.

Will started laughing too. “You really have to stop using your head as a shield man if it made you this slow.”

Steve shook his head. “Tell that to the rest of the world, man. Because I don’t like doing it anymore than you like see it.”

“I was never going to be the normal one,” Will said, “even before the Upside Down and the bullying. But it’s nice to meet other people like me and not feel alone. Because yeah, my mom and Jonathan are always going to have my back they’ll never understand. Not fully. So it’s nice that I know that there are people I can go to, people who are like me.”

Steve wrapped his arms around him. “I’m glad I got to be one of those people, Will.”

“Me, too,” Mike said with a watery chuckle. “Because it’s gonna piss Mike off so much.”

Steve looked at him, wide eyed. “Am I hearing that right? Will Byers isn’t defending Mike Wheeler? I think I might need that hearing aid after all.”

Will chuckled. “Eddie pointed out that I can disagree him from time to time. I don’t have to stick up for him when he’s being a little shit, because it just encourages him to continue his bad behavior.”

“Sounds about right,” Steve said, sitting back. “You fight with friends and lovers. That’s just what happens. It only becomes a problem when you fight about the little stuff as well as the big stuff. And if you’re fighting over every big thing than man, find someone who likes you. Because they really don’t.”

“Is that what happened to you and Nancy?” Will asked.

Steve pursed his lips. “I don’t know what happened between me and Nancy. Was it the Upside Down? Was it not being right for each other? Was both? Neither? I just...just don’t know.”

“I heard that she couldn’t even say she loved you,” Will murmured.

“Where did you hear that?” Steve asked, rounding on him.

“I eavesdropped on Nancy and Jonathan after the fight,” Will admitted.

Steve’s eyebrows went up. “Really? What else did she say?”

Will looked at him. “I don’t think you want to know man.”

Steve looked at him for a second. “No, no. You’re right.”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and they turned to each other.

“You expecting anyone else today?” Will asked.

Steve shook his head and got up to answer the door.

He opened the door and was surprised to see Eddie standing there looking a bit sheepish.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” Eddie said.

Steve laughed. “Early riser me. Come on in, I was just showing Will some of my drawings.”

Eddie perked up. “You draw? Lemme see!”

Steve prayed that Will was fast enough to hide the drawing of Eddie before the man himself came bounding through the hallway.

“Eddie!” Will greeted cheerfully, standing up to hug the older man.

“How come you got to see a Steve Harrington original before me?” Eddie teased. “Kidding, kidding. I know you draw too.”

Steve come up from behind them. “We all draw, right? Eddie’s little cartoons, Will’s epic masterpieces and my little hobby.”

“Oooh!” Eddie said bouncing. “We should form an art group.”

Steve laughed. “For some so anti-establishment, you sure like clubs.”

Eddie frowned. “You don’t have to.”

Steve ruffled his hair. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to. I just think you’re weird. In the best way possible.”

Eddie’s expression went from confusion, to mollified, to embarrassed. “You keep talking like that and I’m going to think you’ve got a crush, Harrington.”

Will and Steve looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

“What?” Eddie asked.

Steve ran his hand down Eddie’s arm. “I’ll you about it later. But come see my art work.”

Eddie flopped on the floor and began rifling through the notebooks.

He stopped at one and cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t know you liked ‘Labyrinth’, Steve.”

Steve and Will leaned over to see which picture he was talking about. It was one of the ones that Steve had actually colored. And it was of the ballroom scene clothes.

“Doesn’t look much like David Bowie, though,” Will admitted.

Steve bit down on his lip.

“And I thought his hair was blond in the movie,” Eddie said. “This is brown.”

Steve began actively chewing on his lip.

They both looked up at him for an explanation.

Steve scratched his cheek and pushed his hair back. He sighed and closed his eyes.

Will and Eddie shared a look.

“Why don’t you want to tell us?” Will asked.

Steve tilted his head back, rolling his eyes. “Oh god. Fine. Turn the page. Maybe that will clue you in.”

Eddie and Will frowned but did as he asked. There in a male version of Sarah’s ballgown was Steve.

Eddie looked up at him wide-eyed and then back to the other page.

Will caught an faster than Eddie did. “Oh shit.” He glanced at Eddie and then back at Steve.

Eddie caught the panicked look on Steve’s face and then back down at the drawing pad.

“It’s me.”

“This was back before...” Steve waved his hand, “before.” Will and Eddie nodded. Before Eddie fell into Steve’s life. Back when he was just the kid’s DM. “Robin wanted to watch it. And it struck a cord with me you know. I felt like you’d stolen the kids from me. I had to go through so much to get them  to like me and you just waltzed right in and were instantly adored. So you became my goblin king.”

“And the fact that it’s a love story...” Eddie asked.

“It’s not though,” Steve said with a frown. “He’s obsessed with her sure. But if he loved her he wouldn’t have hurt her. Would have...I don’t know.” Steve threw his arms in the air. “I think the message is that you aren’t beholden to someone because they say they love you. You are your own person. If you want to love them back, if you can love them back, that’s okay. But it’s not on you to cater to those feelings. It’s in his speech at the end. About her doing everything he tells her and he’ll be her slave? Love doesn’t work like that. Or at least it shouldn’t.”

Eddie blinked. “Wow. You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

Will was staring up at Steve with new appreciation.

“You caught me, I’m a romantic at heart,” Steve said with a heavy sigh. “I guess I always will be.”

“Do you have other pictures like this?” Eddie asked holding up the notebook. “Where you draw your friends as movie characters?”

Steve shook his head. “Not really. It was just something I felt in the moment.”  He pointed at Will. “That’s more Will’s thing than mine.”

Eddie turned to Will. “You’ve drawn the party members as characters before?”

Will blushed. “Sometimes. Mainly it’s Mike.”

“Ah.” He moved to stand back up when he saw something sticking out of the cushions of the sofa.

Steve watched in slow motion as Eddie pulled out the paper and unfold it. He watched as Eddie gasped, covering his mouth with his hand as the other hand began to shake.

“Eddie?” Steve asked, his voice higher with worry.

“I’ve never seen myself drawn like that before,” he whispered.

“Like what?” Will asked, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Eddie ran his fingers over the smooth surface of the drawing. “Like I matter to someone.”

He looked up at Steve. “When did you draw this?”

Steve’s heart was racing in his chest as he fought to get the words out. “Remember that night when I came early to pick up the kids. The night you guys finally convinced me to play?”

Eddie nodded. “Can I keep it?”

Steve could feel the weight being lifted from his chest. “Yeah, sure.”

“Hey, Eddie,” Will said, trying to break the tension, “why are you here? I mean it’s been fun, but you can’t have come over for Steve’s art, because you didn’t know he drew until today.”

Eddie looked between Steve and Will in confusion a moment as they waited for his answer. “Oh! Right, I had an idea for your character and wanted to talk to you about it. But I got so excited that I just drove over here without thinking.”

Steve laughed and even Will smiled and shook his head.

“So let’s hear it, then,” Steve said.

And soon the air was filled with discussions of the campaign.

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Tag List: @itsfreakingbats @marvelousforlife

[galaxythreads]

The live action ATLA is amazing. 9.5/10. I didn't love everything about it, but there are so so so so many good parts and I'm so glad that Netflix decided to make this. I've seen a lot of weird criticism from long time fans and maybe I just haven't been in the fandom long enough, but. I absolutely think it's worth giving a watch if you go in with a semi blank slate. The Netlfix series is not trying to be an exact scene by scene remake of the show.

The thing about it that you have to remember when you go in is that they said they were going to change the tone of the show, and they did, and it works! It's not the same. It's not a comedy. It's funny, but it's not a comedy. Character motivations were changed to fit the darker theme. It's using Avatar as source material and intends to be an adaption, not a reconstruction of the series.

Katara is much more traumatized about her mom's death, which made sense! She was murdered in front of her. She's afraid to take on a maternal role because of that. She's quieter and softer because she's afraid and she's healing from her mother's murder. Katara in the series made sense, too, but I feel like someone looked at her and went! Wait. Smol child is maybe...not okay??? I have faith they will build her up as the seasons progress if they continue.

Hakoda is disappointed in Sokka barely passing his trial. Makes sense! They're at war! Sokka has to take care of the village, of course Hakoda has high expectations for him. And the thing is--Hakoda still trusted Sokka with the responsibility of the village anyway, so his disappointment in Sokka's trial didn't stop his faith in his son. And honestly, I think it's fine that Hakoda is not a perfect parent who never makes mistakes. Parents rant about their kids to their friends all the time. It's healthy because they're not doing it in front of, or to, their kid. Hakoda didn't know Sokka was listening. So. Idk. Sokka doesn't go through his misogyny is bad actually arc, and while I missed it, I thought he functioned really well in this story without it. And for the record!!!! Sokka STILL makes stupid jokes the entire season. He didn't lose his sense of humor.

Aang feeling so much guilt about leaving? Yep! I can vibe with that. I missed his innocence and playfulness, but I feel like this wasn't a bad take on the character either. He was still playful, but in the world they live in, it would make sense that he feels terrible for leaving. And everyone they encounter takes it upon them to rub it in his face so why wouldn't he feel bad or out of place?? Especially after Bumi. Everyone says he needs to face this alone, and Aang learning that he doesn't have to?? Powerful!! Is it the same arc as s1 of the show? No! It's not supposed to be!

Zuko's actor was perfectly cast. That boy IS Zuko. The scence at the end of e6 made me cry because it was so powerful with the 41st, and that felt so EARNED after episodes of watching Zuko's crew despise him to suddenly realizing the only reason they're alive is because of him and realizing it's an honor to shelter him. Zuko drawing Aang to pin him on his disaster wall was amazing. Him getting hit by some random woman for attacking Aang? Amazing. Him sitting next to Iroh during Lu Ten's funeral? So soft. The Agni Kai really rubbed people the wrong way, but I think it was interesting that they decided to have Zuko showing compassion be the root of Ozai's anger. He showed compassion to the 41st, he shows compassion to his father, and when Ozai has defeated him, he has him on the ground and could walk away, and he chooses to burn his face. It's not exactly the same as the show, but again, it's not intending to be.

Azula being here was interesting. I don't know if I loved Zhao being incapable of doing anything without her, but it works for what it is. Zhao is intended to be annoying and he was! So. 10/10. She cried when Zuko got his scar! Ozai playing the long hand of terrible abusive tactics made me want to bite him. Because Ozai doesn't care about Zuko. He uh. Made that pretty clear when he banished him and then at the end when he's explicitly told Zuko might have died at Agna Qel'a and he's like ????????? Am I supposed to care??? We've gotten rid of weakness. So??? Like he used Zuko to force Azula to become more ruthless. He used Zuko to shape her. I do hope we get more exploration of Ty Lee and Mai so they aren't Faceless Blorb Friends, but I just don't think there was really time in s1.

The parts they chose to remove and add into the story was interesting. You got to explore the story for the first time again. I definitely think both versions have merit and are deeply enjoyable, I just don't think you should go in expecting it to be exactly the same thing? I was happy to see a new take on the story, but that might be because I knew that it was going to be darker and the characters would adapt to that. I do hope we can get more of the vibe of the show's humor in season 2 if we get season 2, and Katara feels little more like her show-counter part because I missed her, but honestly, I do recommend to a friend.

Or at the very least, if you absolutely refuse to watch it, PLEASE go watch the last 1/2 of episode 6 with Zuko and the 41st because I CANNOT.

+THEY ACTUALLY PRONOUCED EVERYONE'S NAMES CORRECTLY #bareMinimumAward

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Hellow, i just reblogged that post about the cauldron loving elain and I have been seized with a need to figure out what the hell is going on with that so I shall read one (1) chapter if acomaf to bring me closer to my goal. For the record, I did know about the cauldron loving elain and hating nesta because idk, nesta was angry and annoying when she was dunked into it but elain was just so sweet and demure about it probably, i did not think it was. romantic love. but this is a sjm book so I was foolish to assume there would be a male character whos not insanely horny. Actually, is the cauldron even male? He is in the german version but thats just bc the word cauldron is masculine grammatically. Quick someone draw like, a tumblr sexyman humanized version of the cauldron. actually no, tumblrsexymen are traditionally twinks and sjm hates those. Quick someone draw like, a super buff shirtless man with golden hair, or whatever the color of the cauldron is

anyway, PREVIOUSLY ON: THE FLAMES AND DARKNESS LIVEBLOG we had the Court on Nightmares Under The Mountain Reenactment Scene as I like to call it and can we talk about how Feyre has known Rhys for like a year and only liked him for like half a year and yet she was perfectly fine sitting in his lap nacked and letting herself be sexualized by him. Like, I dont even have any kind of sexual trauma, you would still need to build up sooooo many years of friendship and good will for me to do that for you and you would NOT be allowed to jerk me off!! whatever, lets get on with this, its time for chapter 43

I hate that Rhysand is being all like "i shouldnt have brought you, i didnt want you to see this side of me" when its like, buddy you didnt have to do all this shit you couldve just walked in an been like "Im your high lord and demand your orb" and they wouldve given it to you because youre their high lord and youre demanding their orb. And if he thought they wouldnt have given it to him, he couldve easily come up with a different distraction he just went with the one that sexualizes Feyre because hes weirdo. Like, if hes so cruel on every other day then he shouldve acted really nicely, greeted Keir by giving him the biggest hug and being like "uncleeeee!! :D long time no see :)" and Feyre should have been dressed up as like, the embodiment of spring in pastel green soft shades of pink and but Rhysand still treats with the utmost kindness and respect, now that would throw the Hewn City for a loop

Okay so the reason Rhys broke keirs arm is because the word 'whore' triggered him which is understandable but like, Feyre thought of herself as the Highlords Whore in a very deliberate parallel to Rhysand being known as Amarantha's Whore and Im pretty sure she even straightup thought something about being in the position he had for so many years but she was like, horny about it and the narrative just isnt acknowledging it. Like, theyre not talking about it even though their mindlink was presumably open the whole time bc I remember them flirting through the link, and Feyre isnt even like "oh man, I feel bad for thinking that when its so upsetting to him" its so weird

Rhysand basically said "I will never try to protect you by locking you away, instead I will protect you by killing anyone who upsets you, even when they dont actually upset you and they just upset me" like he and Tamlin are not fundamentally any different from each other, its just that Rhysand is a coldblooded murderer. but its fine cuz he wears black leather i guess

I just realized. Rhysand had a boner when Feyre was sitting in his lap. did that go away when he broke Keirs arm or did he walk out of that meeting with his dick fully hard

Listen, maybe its just because its 3am and Im a little sleepdeprived but this conversation barely makes any sense, these bozos are just completely talking past each other at this point

Rhysand just said something about how Tamlin just locked Feyre up and let her waste away and almost die and Feyre was gonna say "He was trying his best" but Rhys interrupted her like "Dont compare me to him, stop comparing us" when she didnt say anything about that ??? my guy is projecting so hard rn he thinks theyre having a conversation that theyre not even having

And like i would argue that Feyre doesnt even compare Rhysand and Tamlin that much, the narrative definitely does it a LOT, but Ive been reading Feyres thoughts throughout this whole ordeal and I feel like she barely even thought about Tamlin since she sent him that letter

This scene is supposed this big turning point for their relationship and its clearly meant to be really emotional but the only emotion i can feel rn is annoyance with Rhysand because its like, he did have genuinely traumatic things that happened to him but not only is he barely affected by any of them, those are not even the things that the narrative brings up whenever its trying to get me to sympathise with him instead its always just "whaaaaaaa everyone thinks Im nasty and evil just because i keep doing nasty and evil things T-T"

Feyre is being very cruel but in a kinda funny way because its directed at Rhysand rn, i would insert the quote but I am in no state to translate anything at the moment but shes basically like "of course you have to hide your true self from your friends, they wouldnt wanna hang out with otherwise, you burden"

Idk why but the prose being like "my arrow struck him too deep" is so funny to me, it has the same energy as the vampire fics i read where the weird gay one gets his heart broken and he goes "it wouldve hurt less if he staked me in the heart"

Feyre is like "i cant believe he was so vulnerable and shared his sorrows with me and just threw all of it in his face" and I could not give less of a shit, but ive been on a big emotional abuse kick lately so now Im thinking about what if Feyre was just faking having feelings for Rhys in order to make him fall in love with her and be vulnerable with her only to then tell him the truth and reject the mating bond and make him completely break down as revenge for UTM. now that would actually be empowering

Now Feyre is thinking about how shes been using Rhysand for a long time now and come onnnnnn there is such a big power difference between them, I genuinely think its basically impossible for her to do that. Like, hes the most powerful guy in the history of guys or whatever, if anything you were doing bothered him that much he could simply make you stop doing it. hm. now Im thinking about what if rhysand was actually a huge masochist. Now that would actually be hot

Feyre is talking about how all the members of the inner circle suffered and are traumatized and theyve all learned to live with it and, not to extend too much sympathy to Rhysand, but all of the ICs major traumatic events happened centuries ago, his traumatic event happened one (1) year ago and it lasted 49 years i think its gonna take a little more time till hes all better

ughhhhhhh dont remind me of Amrens stupid romance subplot im gonna kill myself

Starfall is called Die Nacht der fallenden Sterne [the night of the calling stars] in german which is so much cooler and more whimsical, shoutout to my gal pal Alexandra Ernst for attempting to reinsert atleast a little bit of whimsy into this joyless world

Also, apparently its expected that Rhysand spend the first starfall in fifty years with his people, his people in this case referring to the Verlarians in the city that no one knows exists and not the people living in his courts actual capital. then again, i guess those bozos are all trapped under a mountain and wouldnt be able to watch it anyway so who cares

Amren said "hes not lucky to have us, we're lucky to have him" like yeah, hes paying you all exorbitant salaries just for being his buddies

God, amrens jacking rhys off so hard rn I cant believe she didnt wanna have sex with him when he asked

btw Im not even gonna dignify all that vaguely meta bullshit about how Tamlin is the golden prince and rhysand is the villain in the stories but the villain in stories is the guy who locks maidens away in towers and rhys freed her with anx kind of commentary because its just stupid, its just sjm bashing you over the head with how subversive she is when Tamlin and Rhysand are basically the same guy with different aesthetics at this point, like Feyre is not making a choice between the goodboy hero and the badboy villain, shes making a choice between a Bad Boy with a Heart of Gold (green) and a Bad Boy with a Heart of Gold (black)

[cool-cowboy]

Summary:

In which Leon is the priest of your church, a very kind and noble man, who you, against the church’s (and your shitty husband’s) wishes have grown quite fond of, confession being one of the few times you get to relish the one on one attention. Little do you know, your godly priest has been having some not so godly thoughts about you as well.

I have literally no idea. Leon in a sweet caring kind of way, but kinda out of character, since he's a 1600's priest and speaks hopefully like one. A bit of a historical thing, the idea popped into my head and I did some research, and found out it used to be pretty common for married women to enjoy their confessions, often falling for the men on the other side of the wall.

Tags:

Alternate Universe - Medieval, Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Adultery, Confessional Sex, sex in the confession booth, Dominant Leon S. Kennedy, Dirty Talk, Clothed Sex, Priests, Priest Leon S. Kennedy, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Making Out, Semi-Public Sex, Eye Contact, Penis In Vagina Sex, Come Shot, Skirts

Blurb:

“You find me godly?”

“Perfectly… Though you are the cause of many other's sins, so perhaps you are sinful…”

Text:

“Bless me father, for I have sinned. My last confession was Wednesday.” He’s staring at me, in his usual way, open and accepting, ready to hear all about my wrong-doings, one of them a cardinal sin, no less. I’m not sure what it is, why he has such a draw, roping me in and making me forget my teachings over and over, his looks and person much too sinful for such a godly man. “I was rude, I spoke unkind words to Stephan. I refused him… When, um, when he-”

“There is no judgment here, only forgiveness. There’s no need to be nervous.” I nod, not looking at him, embarrassed to be confessing yet another tiff with my husband, sure the father is tired of hearing about my disrespect. He reaches through the little door, something he’s not supposed to do, but often does, getting my attention or soothing me down after a particularly nasty sin is disclosed, something that only causes further sin, the feel of his kind hands always forcing some further than friendly thoughts into my mind, never fessed up in my confessions, which is probably my biggest offense to god to date. He makes me look at him, tilts my head up by my chin, stares at me in his quiet, sweet way, soft eyes always able to draw out my deepest secrets without much prompt. “Tell me.” He always seems more interested to hear about my transgressions toward my husband, for why I don’t know, but it’s better than the harsh judgement of my childhood priest, anyways, so I try not to dwell too much.

“He wanted to… Bed me. I refused… It’s my duty to bear children, but I- He isn’t… I hate him.” The truth, something I’ve been toeing the line of for a while, only confessing the passing sins rather than my most heinous one, but he’s known all along, doesn’t seem surprised at all when I meet his eyes, maybe a little amused, but I don’t believe that, he has no reason to be, only reason to assign me a hefty penance.

“I see… That is… Quite the confession. Don’t look so fearful, miss, you know I’m a believer in earning your keep, and it doesn’t seem Mr. Belman is trying his best to do so.” My throat’s dry, my swallow barely making it down, his eyes on my making me sweat, my skirts making me feel a little faint, claustrophobic in the small booth. “A bad man does not deserve a woman as godly as you, at least I don’t see him as fit.” He’s not meant to give his opinion, only fact, that or prompt me to better help me lay my secrets out to him, but he always tries to make me feel better, in a way, for the wrongs I’ve committed, well aware of my repentance, and my desire to do better.

“You find me godly?” I’m really not, most ladies who attend the mass are a whole lot more godly than me, almost perfect Catholics. He smiles, soft and kind, making me sin all over again, though I’m unsure what I can do to keep from sinning in this way, my thoughts not easily controlled, especially for him, a man no woman has ever had the pleasure of pleasing, a man who’s devoted his whole being to serving the lord, but still manages to be entirely enticing, his unattainableness adding a sinful edge to his allure.

“Perfectly… Though you are the cause of many other's sins, so perhaps you are sinful…” He’s amused, and I’m confused, not an idea what he means by that. I stare at him, not incredibly eager to get on with my confession, more than willing to let him keep talking as long as he likes. “You’re an object of many’s affections, miss, and envy as well…” He’s going against his oath, speaking of other’s sins outside their own confessions, giving me a shred of all that he knows, offering it up with a relaxed expression, watching me, assumedly waiting on me to continue telling him, but I’m not ready yet, need a little longer, a few more moments of his soft stare before I tell him, tear down the image he’s painted of me in his head, desecrate his idea of me.

“Father..? Who do you confess to?” He smiles, only a little, amused for some secret reason, his gaze a little hazy, his hands smoothing down the front of his robe, the sound of him clearing his throat a little loud in the small space.

“Myself, I suppose… Though there’s something I find more suitable to confess to you.” My brows draw down, unsure why he’d have anything to confess to me, if he’s able to repent and move on without any type of formal confession, but I wait patiently, not wanting to sin again by disrespecting the father. He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, just stares at me with his head tilted a little to one side, his gaze hazy, his smile barely pulling at one side of his lips, his face close to mine, just on the other side of the little confessional door, his breath warm on my skin. “Forgive me miss, for I have sinned.” He watches me, signing a cross over his chest, a little slow, the anticipation making me feel feverish, wet palms wiped on the front of my skirts while I wait, not bringing my eyes from him, wary to miss a second of his terribly enticing gaze. “I have committed the sin of lust. My craving for you is ungodly, and I have performed self-pleasing adultery to the mere thought of you too many times to count.” I have not a single clue what to say, just stay perfectly still, feeling sick at the pleased feeling burning my skin, flaming and not at all what I should feel in response to his reveal.

“Father, I-”

“I am sorry for this and all my sins.” He doesn’t seem sorry, more confused, staring at me in a way that makes me near fainting, all heat and intensity, trying to unravel his own desires. “You may continue.” I swallow, looking down at my hands, now much too afraid to tell him, to reciprocate his lust, unable to do anything about it, aware I’m bound to Stephan, and he is never to be wed.

“I told a lie.” It isn’t something I usually need to confess, I’m not even sure why I did it, needlessly covering up my actions to keep Stephan as far from figuring out my adulterous thoughts as possible, though he’d never suspect a tryst between the father and I. “I told Stephan I was going to the market on Wednesday, when I came to see you.” I let my eyes come up, flitting from my lap to his hands, clasped over his lap, up to his face, seeming a little pleased, adding to my unease, his feelings now out in the open, glad to be a subject of sin for me as well, I suppose. The others are being noisy, the church overly full today, the last session before Christmas, eager to be forgiven.

“Why did you lie?” I look back down, unwilling to look at him when I tell him, give him the satisfaction of reciprocated lustful feelings and actions.

“I didn’t want him to become suspicious.” He hums, ducking down a little to draw my eyes back up, looking at me pleasedly, not at all bashful in the way he should be, never the one to be shy, always so open, even now, after he’s told me about his self-pleasing to me.

“Suspicious?” He’s enjoying himself, too casual to be questioning me about what has become so glaringly obvious, backing me into a figurative corner and forcing it out of me, something he’s entirely too good at, receiving confession after confession and helping numerous work through their own minds.

“I have committed the sin of lust.” He’s looking at me, not that I can see, my eyes cast down at his hands, listening to the sounds of people mulling about outside, stretching out the quiet between us to steel myself for what I say next. “I’ve been having impure thoughts about you, father. Please forgive me.” He hums, one of his hands lifting up out of my view, this whole thing making me feel sick from guilt, adulterous behavior one of the few things I never thought would be something I’d have to speak to him about.

“Is that all?” I nod, finally looking at him, his eyes always on me, never showing me any less attention, offering up his services in maybe a little less selfless of a way than I used to suspect. “Then I assume it’s time to assign your penance…” He runs his hand down over his lap, his other in the space of the little window, gripped over the little ledge there, crossing over into my space, the hand on his lap drawing back up slowly, his eyes a little cloudy, dazed, almost. “I have to say… The lord will forgive you, no matter the sin, miss, you’re saved.” It seems almost like a suggestion, though maybe I’m just imagining it, hoping for something I really and truly shouldn’t, something the opposite of righteous, one of the most evil and depraved wants possible. “Perhaps… Indulgence is our solution.” He stares at me, unmoving, giving me the choice, offering something so enticing, so terrible in nature I’d be damned to accept, looking at me in such a bold way after uttering something so forward.

“Father… Are you suggesting..?” He’s touching me, running rough fingers over the side of my jaw, our faces close, closer now that he’s leaning toward the little window, all of him seeming larger, more masculine than I would usually find him, his comfort fading into a simmering nervousness as I wait on his reply.

“I’ve satisfied myself in your name countless times, miss, and not once has it settled the need, not even diminished it, only choked it down until I can’t keep it at bay any longer. I am a man of God, but with all my devotion you’re the one and only thing I’ve ever found myself helpless to resist.” My breathing’s gone uneven, his hands on my face and in his lap, stroking softly, both soothing me and indulging in his desire, a soldier of God, succumbing to the same earthly pleasures as me. “Our penance. Finding a way to dispel this need, holding ourselves accountable for time spent lost in the other, returning that time to our father, pleading his forgiveness for our frailties.” He’s leaning close, face nearly passing the frame of the window, eyes cast down at my lips, his parted and slick, all of him so very enticing, especially like this, so far gone he can’t even deny himself this, and neither can I, my lips flush with his the next second, sealing my fate, an adulterer and a sinner, depraved and dirty and lustful, all for him.

The kiss is nothing like what I’ve come to expect, separate from the necessary, rushed kisses of my husband, this kiss searing, sending a wave of heat over me, the passion of it making me faint, all the want I’ve been keeping quiet to myself passing between us, his hand slipping back and into my hair, keeping me close, our indiscretion between only us and God, a sin kept quiet, the act horrible, but so satisfying I have no reason to believe God would be against me indulging.

“Father…” We’re both breathing heavy, lost in the admittance and act of sin, his hair messier than I’ve ever seen it, his lips rosy and shiny with shared saliva. “The others are waiting…” He sighs, drawing me back in by his grip on my hair, speaking in his quiet, comforting way half an inch from my lips.

“And they will.” He gives me no time to offer a response, goes back to pressing warm, careful kisses to my lips, his pace a little faster, his breathing shaky as mine, the booth heating up from labored breaths, muggy and heavy with shared desire. “Lord… You’re… Truly breathtaking… A temptress… My own personal test…” He pulls back, letting go of me, standing himself up, face hidden behind the wood above the window, his waist a little below my eye level, his robes hanging heavy, a reminder of his promise to the lord, now broken. “I’ve failed our father… But I will not fail you… Sink to the floor, miss, show me your devotion to your penance.” I meet his command, slipping off the bench and onto my knees, a little unsure, not quite understanding why I’d be on the floor if he intends to take me. “I’ll tend to you shortly, miss, just- for now… I need a bit of preparation.” He shuffles his robes out of the way, exposing himself to me, his manhood larger than I thought possible, more than twice the size of my husband’s, and I wonder how it’ll fit, if it can. “Take me inside your mouth, miss. Close your perfect lips around me and let me feel what I've long awaited.” He’s holding onto himself, waiting for me to comply while running his hand up and down, his body revealed to me for the first time, unexpectedly muscular, legs and some of his midsection bare for my greedy eyes.

I close my lips over him, only the first inch, unsure what he wants me to do, his hand leaving its place to stroke across my jaw, back into my hair, gripping what slips between his fingers, his hand pulling me in, sliding himself inside my mouth, a small pleasured sound passing his lips sending an odd sensation through me, some sickly hot satisfaction. He’s leaning his free arm on the wood above me, his head downturned, his eyes hidden from my view by the wood of the booth, his mouth gaping in pleasure, his chest heaving beneath his robes, cross around his neck swinging as he moves against me, a reminder of our frailty, our unworthiness of God’s image.

“Ah- You’re… This feeling is… Lord forgive me… For I will sin again…” His teeth are gritted, his hand pulling me in a little closer, my throat tightening around him startling me, his pleasured noise deep and pleasant when I press my hands to his thighs to get a breath, sputtering embarrassingly, his hand smoothing my hair helping me calm back down. “Forgive me… I got carried away…” He’s ducked down to look at me, seeming perturbed, stroking at my hair, his cross drawing my eyes before I look back up at him, slipping my fingers up the underside of his manhood, watching him, his pleasured noise sending a searing shock down to my privates, my mouth closing back around him, moving on my own, humming when he allows it, just keeps his hand on the back of my head, guiding me, his head rested back on his forearm, my eyes on the lower half of his face, the portion I can see, his expression looking pained from the pleasure, teeth ground tight, jaw clenched with stress, my hand running over his exposed stomach making him flinch, his length twitching between my lips. “Wicked girl… You’re-hah- ruining me… Turned me into a damned-!” He pulls me back, my lips leaving him with an obscene amount of saliva, smeared over him and connecting him back to my lips, his hand slipping forward to tilt my head up toward him, his eyes back in my view, looking down at me, his thumb stroking the mess on my lips. "I won’t let this end until I’ve shown you all that a lover can be, miss. Surely this isn’t what you’ve sought after… I can offer you more… you need only relax and let me show you…” He wraps his fingers over my bicep, pulling me gently up until I stand before him, his hand pushing me gently back to seated on the little bench, his fingers finding my upper legs through layers of skirts, running slowly up, giving me an awful sense of yearning, the feeling pleasurably painful, sickening, his cross swinging at eye level while he's doubled over reminding me I should be ashamed to be satisfied in any way from something so heinous.

“Father, what’re you-” He drags me, fingers tight on my legs, pulling me until my hips rest on the six inches of wood separating my space and his, my upper body laid on the bench, propped on my elbows, only a couple inches lower than the window.

“You’ve bewitched me, truly… Made me insatiable… My lust for you is painful, forcing me to succumb to your allure time and time again… Now you’ll see what you’ve done to me, feel the craving- the need I have for you, firsthand…” He sinks to his knees, keeping his eyes on my face, my elbows digging into the wood a little uncomfortable, but the look in his eyes keeps me from breaking my gaze from his, watching him as he pushes up on my skirts, leaving them pooled at my waist, my undergarments unobscured, his hand making its way back down to grip to my ankle, his skin scalding hot against me, lifting until my leg is in line with his lips, his head turned to the side to press his lips to my inner ankle, his gaze on me as he trails his way up, leaving saliva along his path up the inside of my leg, the whole display more pleasurable than probably anything I’ve ever experienced. “I know how to please you… I’ll be sure to satisfy your ungodly desires… Leave you so perfectly complacent you’ll never let anyone else bed you…” He finishes his kissing, pausing with his lips pressed to my lower thigh, easing my foot down on the bench just behind him, my knee bent, his hand moving to my other ankle, easing it up to repeat the process, drawing it out, kissing unbearably slow, looking at me in a lustful, entirely sinful way.

“Father? It’s… There are people outside… Shouldn’t we… Hurry this along?” He smiles, eyes creasing in such a beautiful way, his hand guiding my foot to rest on his other side, his head between them, shoulders just below my knees.

“Impatient woman… Confess it.” He lets his hands slide up the outsides of my legs, fingers pausing on the waist of my undergarments, his eyes peering at me, intense and masculine, commanding in his calm, even-toned way. I’m having trouble keeping my breathing even, the anticipation of his promise hanging heavy, blanketing the cramped space, the people milling about outside the booth making me wary to be caught.

“I have committed the sin of impatience. I don’t want to wait, forgive me.” He smiles, pulling down, exposing me to him, pulling my legs back one after the other to rid me of the pesky clothing, his eyes cast down once he’s finished, his expression clouded and lustful, his chest heaving, eyes a little low as he takes me in, bare before him, willing and ready to commit a cardinal sin for him.

“You’re forgiven… Now I must confess…” He leans forward, hands sliding up the back of my thighs before gripping to my skin, both of us clammed up from the suffocating heat of the space, his warm breath against me making me shiver. “I have committed the sin of envy… Stephan is the luckiest man in history… To have a woman as phenomenal as you… I’m truly envious, in utter disbelief he has not a clue how incredibly beautiful you look when you enjoy yourself…” He presses a finger against me, startling me, all of this foreign, his thumb trailing up wetness that usually comes much later, once Stephan is nearly done, his slippery finger pressing a couple inches above my entrance making me flinch, the feeling shocking, pleasant in a tight, unexpected fashion. “Ah… Perfection… I wasn’t sure… But that monk really did figure out the secrets of women…” I have no idea what he’s speaking about, all I know is this pleasure is foreign, tight and nearly too much, his thumb rubbing softly up and down as he watches me, seeming pleased to confirm I can feel in this way. “I was told a woman can achieve the same type of euphoria as men… I hope I’m well-equipped enough to give you at least one climax… I’ll try my best, miss, in God’s name.” I’m trembling, the feeling building into something far more than what it began, a sickening tension, my muscles wound tight, teeth gnashed and head leaned back onto the wall, his thumb pulling away releasing the tension building, his look amused.

“What’s… Why..?” He laughs, fanning hot air against me, his lips pressing to the place his thumb just left, his smile widening when I gasp and squirm, bag hands on my thighs holding me still as he uses his tongue, letting out a soft pleasured noise at the flavor, or the action, I’m not entirely sure.

“Forgive me… I couldn’t go without a taste… My god… You’re the most divine thing I’ve ever laid eyes on… the most raw and formidable temptation I’ve ever had the pleasure of letting ruin me…” He’s rubbing me again, pressure more firm than before, sure of himself, the satisfying tension coming back quicker than before, my eyes on him, the sight of him with my wetness smeared over his skin drawing a pleasured noise from deep in my chest, my breathing more frantic than I can ever remember, my legs trembling lightly from his ministrations, his gaze holding mine, his skin a rosy pink, lips flushed red. “You are my ultimate desire… An itch that has been gnawing, working away at me… Tearing me away from the lord… luring me into a pleasant trap…” I’m barely registering his low words, drawled with his cheek pressed to my skin, the tight pleasure clouding my mind, blanketing me in the feeling. “You’re nearly there… So beautiful… Keep your eyes on me… Face what you’ve done… Given into lust… Taken me down your depraved path as well… Don’t fret, your sins are forgiven… So get on with it, show me how blasphemous you are… deriving pleasure from being bedded, let this be for your pleasure and that alone… There, that’s it, you’re doing so well, trembling so beautifully, making those sweet sounds for me…” The feeling peaks, my body convulsing, drawing in on itself, the pleasure hot and tight, all of me clenched tight, his fingers pausing, my eyes barely open to heed his order, looking into his eyes, his expression pleased and lax. “I could never receive enough of this… Watching you come undone before me, my actions giving you this much pleasure…” I feel droopy when I come down, slumped on the bench, legs lax and open around his head, his expression entirely pleased, glad. “Let me inside.” He pulls me, and I let him, stood up in front of him after a few seconds, waiting on him to sink inside, my skirts and his robes making it seem nearly impossible, but he doesn’t make any move to bury himself inside, only meets my lips in a searing kiss, his body flush against mine, pressing me into the wall of the booth, my body feeling overly hot, both of us sweating, his face shiny with perspiration and my mess he’s neglected to wipe away.

“Father… Please… I’ve already confessed my impatience.” He laughs, low and sinful, the softened pleasure coming back, my body ready for him, likely more ready than ever before. He pulls up on my skirts, though they’re getting in the way, bunched up to my waist when he gives me a look, pressing my hand overtop my lower abdomen to hold them up, his hand gripping his manhood, pressing toward my entrance, rubbing lightly at that pleasurable spot, my low pleased noise muffled in the chest of his robe, his cross pressed cold to my overheating cheek.

“I wouldn’t like to hurt you… express any discomfort, miss, I’ll move slowly…” He pushes, pressing slowly inside, the feeling a little like the sting of antiseptic, his length and girth well over what I’m used to, but not painful, the wetness he caused allowing him to slip inside without incident, pressing tight inside, the full feeling filling some carnal, animalistic desire. “I’ll spill it outside… I won’t desecrate you too harshly…” He pulls back, pressing back inside equally slow, his hand sliding down to clasp around the inner side of my knee, drawing it up to parallel with my hip, his eyes on mine as he moves, slow, passionate and careful in a perfectly unexplainable way, the pleasing feeling of his eyes on mine prompting me to let my head lean back onto the wood, gazing up at him in a way that is surely embarrassingly wanton, but he doesn’t mind, just tucks his chin, gazing down at the place we’re connected, brows drawing together as a low rumble rips through his chest. “Is this… Are you in-hah- pain?” I shake my head, holding up my skirts a little higher, my other hand trapped between my chest and his stomach, gripped tight to his robes. “Confess… Bare your sins to the-ah lord-!” He speeds up his movement, the sound of skin hitting skin tearing pleased noises out of the both of us, his grip going a little tighter on my knee, his eyes holding mine captive, staring at me in an obscene fashion, pained and pleasured and anguished and adoring all at once.

“I-ah- I’m committing the-hah- the sin of-! Adultery-! I-hnn- I couldn’t resist the- the father… Please-ah- please forgive-! Me-!” Speaking isn’t all that easy, his manhood hitting the deepest parts of me, only a little painful, mostly pleasing, his thumb moving back to that spot making me keen, my face pressed to his chest until it passes, his movement gaining a steady, quick rhythm, his thumb moving in time with his hips, his breathing labored and shaky.

“Forgive us-Nnh- for we have sinned… Miss-ah-! I will now-hah- close the-Hnn-!” He ducks his head down, face pressed to the crook of my neck, his body shaking against me, mine against him, all of us ruined, torn apart from the need burning inside, a desire satiated only by action. “God the- the father of mercies-hah- Through-Nnh-! The death and resurrection of his son-ah- son-! As recon-hah-ciled by the-hnn- the uh-Nnh-!” He’s losing himself, and his teachings, mind too full of lust to recall his closing prayer, his hips pressing to mine in an almost animalistic fashion, rutting with the force of a needy dog, his head pulled back to look at me, his expression sinfully beautiful, all of him wet with sweat, red, his eyes low, held open by his need to see himself ruin me, make me into something just as terribly and fully depraved as him. “You really are-hah- the perfect temptation-nnh- In a world full of sinners we’re-ngh- only two of millions… If this costs me my spot in heaven so- so be it, this is my own-Nnh-! personal heaven, buried inside and gazing into your eyes-!…” He’s panting, and so am I, both of us near the inevitable high, shaking and releasing low noises into the space between us, our gazes locked, the eye contact offering a passion and sickening tension, spurring me closer, his thumb moving with harsh pressure, sending me near insanity, his quick thrusts driving me up the wall, his low words rushed and raspy, groaned out and whiny, nearly sounding pleading, his expression gone fearful, distraught at his own pleasure. “The world to- himself and sent the- the-nnh-!” He leans his head back, eyes closing and a loud groan ripping out of him, the sight drawing a decidedly needy noise out of me, my eyes trailing down to his cross, just in front of my face, bouncing agonist his chest, condemning me, my transgression seen and judged by God. “Damnit-! Sent to us- for the-ah- forgiveness ‘f sins-! Through the minis-ah- may god give-nnh-! May god give us pardon- yes-ah- and peace-nnh- I-ah-ab-oh- absolve-!” He slows down, both of us coming down from the near climax, his eyes coming back to me, forehead pressed to mine, his hips working in more of and arc like motion, the feeling of him dragging inside tearing an overly wanton sound from me, his eyes watching me as he draws this out, keeps us both teetering, giving himself a moment to finish his broken prayer. “I absolve you of your-ah- sins, and myself of- of mine…” He takes a few more seconds, pressing inside slowly, keeping his eyes on mine, bright blue shadowed by his hair, messy and sweaty, before he speeds back up, sinking inside over and over again at a pace that seems inhuman, his body impossibly tight to mine, the feeling of nearness coming back, my release denied now back to ruin me, leave evidence of my sin. “In the-ah- name of the- the father-! And of-hah- the-nnh- son and the-! The-ah- holy-hnn-! Spirit!” I’m squeezing him, my body almost uncontrollable when I clench and shake from pleasure, head tilted back and my eyes on his as he pulls out, leaving me empty, his seed spilled over the front of my thigh, trails dripping and soaking my skin, his release enticingly sensual to watch, a raw kind of experience, my mind hazy and full of him, watching him until he’s done, my leg returned to standing, his hands gently smoothing my skirt over both our messes. “Amen.”

“Amen.”

[burnin0akleaves]

Ranger Gathering Day 20: Change

Will. Apprentice, commander, ranger, husband, mentor. An orphan and a widower but also a son, brother and uncle. The apprentice of one of the most well-known rangers that have ever lived with a fame that rivals and even surpasses him. That Will. Will No-Name. Will Treaty.

Picked Will for this prompt because, well I am biased, but also because he is one of the characters that goes through change the most. When it comes to Will though I think people focus on the negative parts of change too much. Which is fair, we all love angst. But I think the message of "you get hurt, but you heal and at the end of the day live goes on" gets forgotten a bit, which is a shame.

Sure Will Treaty has suffered from trauma, a lot of trauma. But, he is more than that. I think what makes Will such a compelling character for so many people including me is the fact that he went through so much and didn't let it hold him back.

People focus on a specific point in Will's story and while they do that, they miss the fact that his story KEEPS GOING. He lost Alyss and he will probably never heal, but he can move on. And he does. He is hurt and there is a part of him that might forever feel empty, but that doesn't mean he can't enjoy life. Will Treaty wakes up every day knowing parts of him might never feel whole but he chooses to be happy and to live anyway. Staring at all the bad things that have happened to you and deciding to keep going no matter what is extremely hard but that man does it and if that isn't admirable and worthy of respect I don't know what is.

At the end of everything Will Treaty is a happy man. He is a hurt man AND he is a happy man.

(Talking more specifically here, Will is one of if not THE best ranger in the kingdom. Not only does he retain his smarts and courage from his younger years, he is the most experienced he has ever been and there is self-confidence there he couldn't have gained from anything except the passage of time. Will is at his absolute peak performance wise. YES this part didn't have to be included NO I DON'T CARE!! Middle aged Will Treaty is an absolute badass and I need more people to realize it! Change treats him well too.)

Alright finally talking about the drawing here, the background is inspired by how oak leaves turn red during autumn thanks to passage of time. Obviously I took some creatives liberties with it, but that's because I think yellow, green and red are good colors to represent Will in general. Yellow symbolizes energy and youth in most cases, something that was heavily associated with Will even later into his life but especially in his childhood. Green is obviously the color rangers are known for, a part of Will that's extremely important to him. And red is a passionate, brave and even ruthless color. It is also one of the colors of Will's arrows.

Another little detail I want to point out is his nose!! Look at his nose! My nose bridge didn't develop until late into my teenage years, so I wanted to show a bit of his facial structure changing as well. It's barely noticable but it's there I swear, zoom in.

[priafey]

AO3 Twenty Questions

tagged by @ladytanithia. a big thank you, as always!

tagging @inkoherentwriting, @azures-grace and YOU, dear reader

(copy/paste for the questions below the cut)

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

Four, not counting the work I published as a reference list for my OCs.

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

84,627

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

Just TES:Skyrim for the moment. Sadly, I haven't been able to play any of the other games just yet.

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

I'm dying for Among the Many Lost Souls to surpass Sought and Found. It was my first venture into longform writing and it shows. Bleh.

5 – Do you respond to comments?

Almost always. If I don't respond, it's usually because I tried my darndest and couldn't think of a constructive or meaningful response.

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

The one I'm writing right now :3c (Among the Many Lost Souls). I'm putting Gwilin through the wringer and then I'm gonna hang him out to dry.

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Sought and Found, I suppose.

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

No, I don't. I lowkey wish I did. Firstly, because haters can be remarkably perceptive, and, secondly, because I am as interested in what makes someone scrunch up their nose or click away from my fic as I am about hearing people's thoughts on what was well-executed about them. I think my stuff is too niche to really draw a lot of negative attention (right now, at least).

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Always, my man! I consider it my moral duty to make my characters fuck nasty. Why? BECAUSE IT'S HOT DUHHH

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

People who write crossovers scare me so bad. I can barely limp my way through having to structure a plot around already-existing lore and making sure everything that happens in the story is congruent with in-universe rules, meanwhile there are people out there writing Skyrim x The Walking Dead crossovers. It's cocobananas.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know. I don't really give a fuck if people steal my shit. Fighting with someone over authorship of a work that is principally riding on the coattails of an existing IP, which can't even be monetized, mind you, feels like a real 'race to the bottom' situation to me. I'm well aware of the quality of my work and I'm proud to have the drive to constantly better my skills. That's all that matters.

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. Though I did start translating Sought and Found into Spanish, I dropped it when I started writing Among the Many Lost Souls. In any case, I would be so, so touched if someone decided to translate a fic of mine.

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

Also nope. Never tried collaborative writing outside of an academic setting. Totally open to it, though!

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

Uh, I'm not real big on shipping existing characters. I mostly just think about my OCs, or my friend's OCs, with each other. Aside from Gwilin x [pretty much every other NPC in Skyrim], I think thoughts about @abstractredd's guys, Hedgrod and Athrar, quite often.

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Fic-related WIP? Just one. I wanted to write another romance fic (like Sought and Found) featuring a netch farmer who's a cowboy-type character. Sexy Dunmer with a southwestern accent. Brokeback Mountain: Morrowind Edition. You get the picture.

I might still finish it, but I'm reluctant to even touch it because I haven't played Morrowind, and would have to do a real deep-dive into everything related to Dunmer in TES lore to write it. I know a lot already, but I never feel like I know enough, y'know?

16 – What are your writing strengths?

I've been told I'm good at setting a scene and painting a picture. This is, I think, a new ability I acquired in the past year or so. I've also been told my smut-writing abilities are pretty good, which is always nice to hear :) If I had to list what I consider to be my own strengths, I'd add that I've gotten a lot better at cutting the fat out of my writing (especially from dialogue tags and in describing facial expressions and body language).

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue is a bitch a half for me to write. It's probably the thing I most obsessively tweak before publishing. I think my dialogue tends to fall short.

Pacing is another issue. I often criticize, in other fic author's works, that they present an interesting image or idea and then leave me hungry because they don't elaborate on it, but I am the biggest culprit of this if I don't constantly remind myself that, yes, people want to hear more about this or that. They want you to mystify it, justify it, make it sexy, make it like a puzzle for them to solve. You can't just leave it cut-and-dry, much as my autism compels to do because "It's quite literally saying the same thing". Like, that's great, bestie, but you have to elaborate! Say the same thing just make it sound cooler than it is!

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

This is cool. I don't mind busting out Google Translate to enjoy a fic. That mouse-hovering feature that lets you add alternative text to a fic on ao3 is super useful for this sort of thing.

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

My first, and only other, fandom: My Little Pony. I was 12.

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

I love them all for different reasons, BUT Among the Many Souls has blood and sex and drama in it, so yeah. It's in the lead.

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

5 – Do you respond to comments?

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

16 – What are your writing strengths?

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

[doueverwonder]

The Visit

Y'all guess who's back to writing (finally); everyone say thank you to @hetagrammy for talking to me about IreNor which made me want to write again and for beta reading; she is a person of many talents.

Welcome back to world building the fics, couple of notes + human names;

Because I can I hc Faroe and Iceland as Norway & Ireland's kids; Alisdair has right to be worried he's not just an asshole.

Alisdair = Scotland Molly (or Máire) = Ireland Sigurd = Norway Ida = Faroe Islands

TW: for references to domestic/sexual abuse (character accusing another of it, nothing is actually happening)

ao3 link here

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been too long since Alisdair had seen his sister, a couple decades at least. He didn’t even know where she was living, what she was up to, if she were even alive. When you knew as many people as centuries of life could afford you it was easier to find someone though, he assumed she was living in an abbey still; which one he wasn’t sure but that was his first guess to start looking. That was the clue he had given: his sister Máire, she lived in an abbey, made her living writing manuscripts. Even threw in her goldsmithing hobby, and a rough description based off the last time he had seen her. As he was sure there were a thousand Máire’s who helped write manuscripts in Ireland alone.

This wasn’t what he expected, out of all the places in Ireland, Dublin, a viking settlement, was the last place he expected to find her. He had heard of the city, which seemed to be a rather large hub for the Scandinavians now. He couldn’t believe how many boats were in the harbor, they lined up endlessly. He remembered one of the last conversations he had with her, he had half begged her to stay away from the coasts; convinced himself the farther inland she was the safer she would be. As usual anything he, or Dylan, asked of her spurred her to do the absolute opposite. Considering this is where she was living maybe Arthur had asked her to stay away from the coasts as well, she would happily let herself get captured if it meant spiting Arthur. 

He kept his head down, not wanting to draw attention with all of them around here. Reasonably he didn’t trust these people, he had already lost Shetland, Orkney, Caithness, and Sutherland; not to mention the Isle of Mann. Four girls and a boy, all fathered by the Norse personification and promptly left behind. It wasn’t uncommon for nations to leave their children in their own land until they were older; didn’t mean he had to like how recklessly he had them; nor did it mean he couldn’t feel bad for the bairns.

He came to the house he had been told; it took far longer than he expected, and had to go through what seemed half the clergy in the country before someone knew where she was. Only finally finding out from a priest that seemed ten years too old to be alive, but here he was. It was on the outside of the city, a small house looking like it wasn’t made to be a long term shelter, there was a small area of farmland around it. He opened the gate making sure to close it behind him so the chickens that milled about wouldn’t get out. A cat sat on top of an overturned crate, gazing over him lazily. That surprised him, Molly had never been much of a cat person preferring dogs, said they were more useful. 

He dusted himself off as he stood at the door, he didn’t need Molly immediately scolding him over his appearance. He knocked heavily, she tended to daydream and not hear things too lost in whatever she was doing. He didn’t want to just walk in either lest he scare her, or he had the wrong house. The wrong Máire. He hoped not. 

The door opened, he smiled expecting his sister. Expecting for her to throw herself into his arms for a hug, they had never been apart for so long he was so excited to see her. His face fell, instead of his sister stood a man, just barely taller than him, blond with blue eyes, dressed as a northmen. The Northman, Sigurd, the source of all his troubles stood in front of him. Molly must have been here, it was too much of a coincidence there is no way he was here and she was not at some point. 

“Where is she” 

“No hello?” it infuriated him how calm the other was, Sigurd was always infuriatingly calm, even when facing Alisdair. 

“Where is my sister?” Alisdair started again, his voice firm but loud, “Where is Molly? What have you done with her, you heathen?!” he spat the word in his face. 

Sigurd looked upset, but was nowhere near losing his temper as Alisdair was, “She is fine, and I do not–” 

“She can not be fine if you are in her house I–” Alisdair stopped, a small voice, clearly inquisitive, asking something. He looked down, a child no older than four, maybe five clung to Sigurd’s leg. He was going to brush her presence off, Sigurd had plenty of bastards, all of which deserved to hear the truth about their father regardless of age. His gaze lingered on her just long enough for her to look up at him. He froze suddenly, the girl was blonde and blue eyed, just as her father was; but the shape of her face, the way the frizzy curls framed her face… that was Molly. Sigurd must have noted his new interest and he shooed her away. Alisdair’s trance broke as he watched her go. 

“Where is my sister?” he demanded again, this time peering over Sigurd’s shoulder trying to see into the house. He wanted to see the girl again, he wanted to see her closer, that had to be his sister's child. 

“I already told you” He stepped to the side to block Alisdair’s view, “She is fine, why are you looking for her?” 

“I’m not allowed to see her?” 

“I didn’t say that” 

“Then where is-” 

“Sigurd? Who’s at the door?” He froze, moments away from pushing the other man out of the doorway to get into the house. The voice was Molly's. He needed to see her, he needed to know she was okay, he needed her alone, he needed to know she wasn’t being kept with him against her will. 

Sigurd stepped to the side so Alisdair could see in the house, Molly came into view and seeing her face took some of his anxiety away knowing she was okay. Knowing she seemed unhurt. The relief was short-lived, his eyes fell on the small girl he had just seen now rested on her hip, he froze seeing her swollen stomach. 

Molly froze, she just stared at him for a moment, he tried to decide if that was a good thing or not.  “Alisdair!” the hesitation morphed into an almost forced looking smile, there was a panic in her eyes that he knew shouldn’t be there. “I thought I heard your voice, but I didn’t want to hope too much!” 

She moved as quickly as she could over to him, she handed the child to Sigurd and hugged Alisdair tightly, his eyes didn’t move from Sigurd, he put his arm around Molly not in a hug, but as if he were trying to protect her. It was impossible to not assume what he was, the stories he heard, the things he had seen, he wanted him dead. Everything played out in his head, he couldn’t touch him while he was holding her; the girl was at no fault for her fathers actions. 

Molly let go of him, though she stayed close, smiling up at him. “I swear it seems you’ve gotten older since we last saw each other, you have to tell me everything, how are you? How are Arthur and Dylan?” 

He opened his mouth to answer, but every thing that came to mind had to do with what was in front of him. Her smile wavered, she was always good at knowing what he was thinking, “Silly me, you’re probably exhausted, come in, come in, we can talk later” she hugged him again quickly, this time taking the chance to whisper “wait til Ida goes to bed” 

He tensed once she let go, swallowing heavily, he assumed Ida was the girl. He nodded, but put his gaze back on Sigurd. He couldn’t help but take note of how heavily Molly kept her grip on him as she pulled him into the house, how she kept her distance from Sigurd, how she had whispered instead of asking aloud. Every instinct screaming to get Molly and Ida away from him. But he stayed quiet as Molly took her daughter back from Sigurd. 

“Mo réaltín,” Molly held the girl up a bit to be closer to eye level with him, “meet your uncle Alisdair.” 

~~~~~~~~~

The sun had set long ago, Alisdair sat watching his sister, Molly looked exhausted, her head rested on Sigurd’s shoulder, his arm around her. It infuriated Alisdair, he hadn’t gotten an answer yet, he hadn’t been given reasons to not kill Sigurd where he stood. If he threw him in the sea, it would take him longer to come back. The only punishment Alisdair could see fit for what he had done to her. 

“She’s long asleep” Alisdair commented, hoping to spur the conversation. He had spent all day with the small girl going on about all the things she liked (playing tag with the children down the road, the pictures in the windows at church, when her father told her stories about the gods); her favorite foods (pickled fish among them); the names of all the chickens (though she noted she preferred the sheep). It was easier to talk to the niece he didn’t know existed, ignore how she had her fathers nose, and her smile was too much like the Danes’. Ignore how she spoke Norse, and stumbled over the bit of Irish she proudly tried to speak to him in. 

Molly sat up a bit, she looked over at Alisdair, “what do we need to talk about?” 

He hesitated, he knew she knew, “can we go somewhere else?” 

“I’ll leave” Sigurd said instead, “I’m not making my pregnant wife go outside at this hour” 

“Wife?” It pissed him off hearing him refer to her that way, he spoke as if Molly weren’t in the room “My sister wouldn’t marry a pagan, much less willingly carry his children.” 

“But she did, and she is, so apparently you don’t know her that well.” Sigurd didn’t move from Molly’s side, he felt he held more power over Alisdair with her in his arms. “And I don’t like what you're implying about me” 

“I’ll say whatever I want about you because I know the truth.” 

“And what is the truth?” 

“I know what you viking are like.” Alisdair stated it plainly, “You show up, and take what you want without asking. That’s what you did with her; you were tired of just trinkets, jealous of your men getting to take whoever they wanted.” 

“Alisdair, sto-” she started but before being able to get anything beyond his name out was cut off. 

“And you knew the best way to make her stay with you was to have something to hang over her head,” he threw one of his hands towards the other half of the house where Ida was asleep, before gesturing to Molly, clearly trying to accentuate her current state. “You would have a dozen children just to keep her with you” 

Sigurd’s face barely changed, but Molly could feel him tense. He sat up straighter, his jaw clenched tight enough she could hear him grinding his teeth to keep himself from saying anything, 

Molly knew Sigurd wouldn’t say anything, he wasn’t a pushover but he wouldn’t want to distress her or wake up Ida either. He would hold his tongue until morning. She stood suddenly, “Alisdair, outside. Now.” She turned to Sigurd, assuring him a small walk wouldn’t kill her. To spite her brother she took his fur with her, pulling the oversized garment over her shoulders as she followed Alisdair outside.

As soon as the door closed behind her she faced him fury in her eyes “What the fuck was that” 

“Molly you don’t have to pretend to—“ 

“I’m not pretending anything!” She huffed loudly, “He is my husband, I love him, he hasn’t done anything I didn’t give him permission to.”

Alisdair was desperate to get her to admit something, anything to prove Sigurd had done something to her, that he wasn’t just being rash. “How do I know you're not saying that because he’s still right there?” 

She huffed stalking off expecting him to follow her, he did right at her heels. Admittedly he was having a hard time keeping up with her, which was embarrassing to admit considering she was at least six months along already. 

They were well out of hearing distance when she started talking again, repeating her earlier statement: “Sigurd is my husband, I love him, he hasn’t done anything without my permission. We didn’t plan Ida, or this baby, but I love being a mother and he’s a wonderful father.” 

A silence fell over them, as they kept walking. Alisdair knew Molly had no reason to lie to him, not when he wasn’t around to hear her. But he couldn’t believe she would fall for him, he couldn’t rationalize with everything that had happened that she would be okay being with him. 

“We can wait a few weeks so he doesn’t suspect, we’ll leave in the middle of the night, I’ll carry Ida so she doesn’t wake up. He won’t know we’re gone until–” he ignored everything she said. He didn’t think she was genuine, something must be wrong. 

“Alisdair.” She stopped suddenly, turning to face him, “I’m in no condition to travel, and even if I was I wouldn’t go with you” 

“I’ll come back for you in a few months then.” 

Molly went quiet looking up at her brother, she didn’t know how to tell him what she needed to. “I’m not going to be here in a few months.” 

“You’re going back to Norway with him?” 

“No. Once summer comes, and once he’s able to go get the rest of his children we’re all leaving for Iceland.” 

“No.” he didn’t even need to think about it, he wasn’t going that far away, he wasn’t letting her go that far from home. He wouldn’t be able to check on her, he wouldn’t be able to come get her if something happened. 

She sighed, “You know that means nothing,” she turned around going back to the house, “I’m going with him, I’m sorry you don’t trust him, but you can’t throw accusations around, especially after he’s been nothing but kind to me” 

“Nothing but kind?” if Alisdair wasn’t so angry he would have laughed. “You call what his people do to you, to me, kindness?” 

Molly stopped, she looked at the ground sighing. She faced him, but didn’t move any closer, “Seventy years ago now there was a raid on the Abbey I was living in. For some reason or another they decided I wasn’t to die with everyone else and brought me here…” 

Alisdair thought he had it, he thought he had his gotcha. That Molly was finally admitting the horrible things he had done to her. 

“Sigurd paid them off and let me go back about my business, not asking anything in return. That is what I call kindness, Alisdair.” Molly sighed, “It’s been too long, because you think I’m stupid now, enough so to let a man manipulate me into things, even if he had forced Ida on me I would have found a way out for both of us. You should know that.” 

Alisdair was taken aback, he hadn’t been trying to imply Molly to not know what she was doing. His assumptions had nothing to do with her, everything to do with him. He just got here, he had only seen her for a day. He thought he would show up and Molly would still be the same as the last time he had seen her, he thought she would still be his little sister and nothing more; he supposes he wasn’t always right though. 

“I know I won’t be able to stop you; but I can’t stay around if you’re going with him.” 

“I can’t say I’m surprised.” They stopped in front of the house, “But I was hoping you would be around when the baby came.” She opened the front gate not looking at him, “you are welcome to stay for a few days, but I expect you to apologize to Sigurd if you do” 

“I’ll find somewhere else then.” 

Molly nodded, “I’ll get your things then, he may not want you in his house if you don’t plan on taking anything back.” 

“Wait.” Molly stopped looking at him, he came here to check on her. She might be insisting she was fine, but he didn’t trust Sigurd, he couldn’t start trusting him just on Molly’s word either. He couldn’t help but feel as though he was admitting defeat, but… “If I apologize you’ll let me stay?” 

“I will,” she shrugged, “But you’ll have to see what he says” 

“I’ll stay, if I’m allowed.”