#Viking Pumps

[idexindia]

6 Tips for Choosing the Right Viking Pumps

In the world of industrial usage, ensuring smooth and dependable fluid transfer is crucial. This is where Viking Pumps shine, known for their dependable construction and outstanding performance. However, with a wide range of pump options to choose from, picking the Viking pump for your requirements can seem like navigating through challenging terrain. This article provides you with the insights needed to meet your industrial flow needs.

[supernowa-art]

elbaf fits! they have good drip this arc!

[aecholapis]

Songs I put on loop while thinking about or drawing my OCs - Part 1

Helios: Icarus - Deus Ex: Human Revolution Collapsing Sun - Brandon Lau Angel On Fire - Halsey Imposter Syndrome - London Music Works Epilogue - Everest Your Majesty - The Crown If You Should Fall - Craig Armstrong Hey - Andreas Bourani Imádlak - Katona Ernesztina Divenire - Ludovico Einaudi This is Our Planet - Our Planet Hope for Tomorrow - Daemon X Machina Fragments of Hope - Astral Chain Aegis Research Institute - Astral Chain - Combat Mix by Baron Von Lag Natural Light - Portal Stories: Mel The Luminoth - Metroid Prime 2 Torvus Bog - Metroid Prime 2 Skytown - Metroid Prime 3 Lost in the Sky - Metroid Prime 3 - Skytown Remix by myr Azeleza - Red_OWLdeer Adiemus - Adiemus The Final Attack - Astral Chain The IXION OST The Interstellar OST Too many Fire Emblem Three Houses tracks to list them all

And the legendary God Shattering Star cover by Joe Zieja and Jules Conroy because I headcanon his voice to be similar to Claude's from FE3H for some reason and since Joe is his VA I can vividly imagine Helios singing this cover. It would be so funny. Let the small copter go ham with his vocal cords.

Ironwing and Altitude (partially): Speechless - Aladdin - cover by Peyton Parrish My Mother Told Me - Assassin's Creed: Valhalla - cover by Peyton Parrish Edge Of Night - The Lord of the Rings - cover by Peyton Parrish Helgafjell - Peyton Parrish ft. David Michael Frank Drengr of Ragnarök - Peyton Parrish ft. Jonathan Young Svarteboka - Gåte ft. Djerv Skarvane - Gåte The Rise of Vikingr album

Nightjet: Silent Guardians - Hyrule Warriors Bryyo Cliffside - Metroid Prime 3 Lower Norfair Mashup - Metroid - mashup by Axell The Swampert Chasing Daybreak (Thunder) - Fire Emblem Three Houses Victor's Hollow - Octopath Traveler - cover by Jules Conroy Oniro Mou - Yianna Terzi Palästinalied - Estampie Небо - Слободан Тркуља Brothers in Arms - Daemon X Machina Title Theme - Metroid Prime 3

Railjet: Runaway Train - Self Deception ;-) Asturias (Leyenda) - Isaac Albéniz - cover by Ana Vidović Gerudo Valley - Ocarina of Time - cover by Matt Sellick Victor's Hollow - Octopath Traveler Highlands Theme - Octopath Traveler Among Stately Peaks - Octopath Traveler Homunculus Delta - Astral Chain Grand War - Daemon X Machina Title Theme - Metroid Prime Trilogy - cover by Wingus Dingus

Firecry and his siblings: Kiss from a Rose - Seal - cover by Jonathan Young, Caleb Hyles, RichaadEB Idolize - Caleb Hyles Smooth Criminal - Michael Jackson (Glee version) - cover by Anna Pantsu ft. Caleb Hyles Fight Fire With Gasoline - Self Deception Weight of the World - Self Deception State of Elysium - Self Deception Legends - Self Deception Starlight Brigade - TWRP ft. Dan Avidan (please watch the music video, it's so good) The Starship Velociraptor album (same as Anvil)

Anvil and his former mining team: Kiss from a Rose - Seal - cover by Jonathan Young, Caleb Hyles, RichaadEB Storm the Castle - Jonathan Young Divided - Jonathan Young Damage Done - Jonathan Young ft. RichaadEB Land of Broken Dreams - Jonathan Young ft. Caleb Hyles Land of the Living - Jonathan Young Unholy - cover by Jonathan Young ft. Lauren Babic (¬‿¬) The Starship Velociraptor album All of Jonathan Young's sea shanty covers

Cryoslope and his former underwater mining team: Chemical Worker's Song - Ron Angel - cover by Colm McGuinness Here's a Health to the Company - Assassin's Creed IV - cover by Colm McGuinness Scarborough Fair - cover by Colm McGuinness The Foggy Dew - cover by Colm McGuinness Islander - Bruce Moss- cover by Derina Harvey Band Lost On You - LP Song of the Sea - Mirella Díez Morán Into the Unknown - Subnautica Abandon Ship - Subnautica Torvus Hydrodynamo - Metroid Prime 2 Troubled Water - Portal Stories: Mel Transitional Period (funnel) - Portal Stories: Mel Live Fire Exercise - Portal Stories: Mel

Dataduct and the Throttlecons: Smooth Criminal - Michael Jackson (Glee version) - cover by Anna Pantsu ft. Caleb Hyles Magnum Bullets - Night Runner ft. Dan Avidan (another great music video) Promise - Voyager Loco - Manian Tonight - Yüksek

Carbonlight: Children of the Omnissiah - Warhammer 40,000: Mechanicus Noosphere - Warhammer 40k: Mechanicus Millennial Rage - Warhammer 40k: Mechanicus Tenebre Rosso Sangue - Ultrakill Title Theme - Metroid Prime - cover by Amie Waters Menu Theme - Metroid Prime 2 VS. Emperor Ing (Phase 1) - Metroid Prime 2 VS. Emperor Ing (Phase 2) - Metroid Prime 2 System Corruption - Portal Stories: Mel (Harry Callaghan) Track 10 - Asphalt 6 VS. Jena Anderson (all phases) - Astral Chain The Creation of Noah - Astral Chain Inside Noah - Astral Chain VS. Noah (all phases) - Astral Chain Symphony No. 9 (New World Symphony) - Dvořák Ecstasy of Gold - Ennio Morricone Arms of Immortal - Daemon X Machina The entire Mechanicus OST

[viking-raider]

Syverson Family War

Summary-> You've just gotten off a 12-hour shift at the hospital, only to return home and get swept up into a Syverson Family War, between your husband and three children.

Pairing-> Austin "Sy" Syverson/Reader

Word Count-> 3.2k

Warnings-> PG: FLUFF, Cotton Candy Fluff, Light Teasing, Soft!Sy, SAHD!Sy, Nurse!Reader

Inspiration-> This Instagram Video (If this isn't Sy vibes, idk who Sy is!)

Author’s Note-> This is a work of Fiction!

Divider by->  @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

You were more than excited to be home after a nearly twelve hour shift at the hospital. Your back throbbed and your feet were screaming at the top of their arches from running up and down the ER department. You didn’t even bother gathering up your tote of stuff, as you got out of your car, since you had the next two days off. So, they would wait until a two hour long bubble bath and a nap with eternity.

But upon entering your modest, two story Ranch house, you were bombarded by silence. Your eyes narrowed as they scanned the dining room to your left and living room to your right, ears pricking up for the slightest movement from the bedrooms upstairs.

Something was clearly off. It was almost never this quiet in the Syverson household.

There was always some sort of ruckus or chaos in motion. Your husband blasting music in the garage, where he had set up a small work-out area or telling off whatever game was playing on the enormous tv in the living room. If it wasn’t Sy, it was a combination of your three kids. Your two boys wrestling each other over a toy or giggles, or your daughter discovering a new, little critter from the backyard and bringing it in, before promptly losing it. Or all three kids getting into mischief with each other somehow.

But when it was silent, you knew there were real shenanigans afoot.

You drew in a deep breath, mustering what energy you had left inside yourself, for Syverson Madness. “Guys! I’m home!” You called out, swinging the front door shut with a little more strength than usual, as you moved a step deeper into the powderkeg. “What are you nuts up to?” You mumbled to yourself, moving towards the living room, still trying to keep yourself alert for any kind of trap or scare.

Little good it did, as a strong hand suddenly grabbed your elbow and yanked you backwards into the dark portal of the laundry room door, with a yelp. The hand shifted to your mouth and the door closed with a soft click.

“Ssshh.” Sy cooed at you, moving his hand away. “Gotta keep quiet, Sugar Butt.” He chuckled at you.

You could hear the smirk on his bearded face, before he clicked on the tactical flashlight he was carrying. You looked him over in the dim light, discovering him in his full Army tactical gear, minus his bare feet. He even sported his night vision goggles clipped to his helmet.

“What in the he-” You were about to demand, scanning him again, but spotted one of your son’s Nerf Rifles strapped to his back. “Give me that!” You huffed, gobsmacked, as you took the light and started checking him and the laundry room out. “Good Lord, Almighty!” You laughed, shaking your head.

He had a Nerf pistol in his thigh holster, a pump gun on the dryer, a blaster beside that, and copious amounts of ammo on the washer, with pop grenades. Which you knew were filled with either baby powder or flour from the last time a Syverson War had been declared on the house.

You looked up at your husband, bottom lip trapped between your teeth for a moment. “How long has World War Syverson Seven been going?” You asked, completely amused by how lost Sy got into playing with your kids, and how much they loved it when he did.

Sy looked at his watch. “Since just after breakfast. Myles chose violence and shot Ada in the back, while she was trying to color a picture. Tears ensued, which caused Colt to declare revenge on Myles, in Ada’s name.”

“You got roped into this, how?”

“Ada got in on it, insisting she didn’t need a man to defend her honor…”

“That’s my girl.” You chuckled, smirking.

“It is.” Sy laughed back. “But, in defending her own honor, she shot me in the leg, while I was trying to get them to chill out.”

You nodded your head, seeing all the pieces fall into place. “Which, obviously, by the Syverson Code, requires you to defend your own honor.”

“Obviously, Angel!” Sy answered, faking outrage. “You should know that, after fifteen years!”

“Fifteen years, and I’m still jotting things down in the Syverson Code of Conduct booklet!” You laughed, shaking your head, there were a lot of things Sy lived and would die by.

They were many of the things that made your heart swell with love for the burly, ex-Army vet.

“So, how do I configure into this madness?”

“You just got home from a super long shift, Sugar.” He answered, brow pinching. “You’re an innocent bystander. I just had to save you before one of those hellions out there shot you.”

“My savior.” You cooed, pushing up on your toes and kissing him. “My back and arches appreciate you.”

“The Lair is off limits, per usual.” He informed you. “We just have to make it out of here and upstairs.”

“Quite the way.” You commented, mentally mapping your and Sy’s route out of the laundry room, through the living room and entryway, then finally up the stairs and home free to the master bedroom, which was referred to as the Lair, where you could rest without having to worry about the family war.

“All right, Captain, what’s the plan?”

He gave you the Syverson wink and reached over your head, there was a sharp click and from outside the laundry room, you heard the kids’ screech. Sy had thrown the power switch to the house, plunging it into the darkness. You chuckled, smirking, understanding his tactic now.

“Stay close.” He whispered to you, clicking his ammo to his vest on, before moving to the door. “The enemy is sneaky and uncivilized.” He said, pressing his body against it, listening carefully to the other side.

“Like their father.” You mumbled under your breath with a snort, huddling yourself against his back.

“I’d say more like their mama.” Sy commented back, reaching back to pop you on the bum, then slowly cracked open the door.

You shuffled out after him, casting glances over your shoulder every few seconds. It was easy going, getting through the living room. Sy had defended it mightily throughout the day, so the kids had become shy about entering their father’s domain. You trusted Sy to protect you, from everything, your kids included. Silly as that was to think.

“We have movement at 12!” Sy called out, catching your nine year old, Myles, through his night vision in his fort, consisting of the dining table and chairs that he was hunkered down underneath, belly crawling from one end towards the other, closing the gap between himself and the entryway. “He’s under the table. A sneaky little sniper boy.” He snickered, shouldering the Nerf-AR resting against his side.

You scrunched yourself up behind Sy’s wide and muscular back as Nerf Darts started whizzing by, striking the scuffed wood floor or sticking to the walls. Both Sy and Myles laughed maniacally as they shot at each other; tossing weak insults on top of it.

“Milk drinker!” Myles shouted, hustling to reload.

“Lizard eater!” Sy shot back, smirking.

“Now, boys!” You scolded weakly, snorting.

They continued their assault, Sy guiding you towards a pocket the bottom stairs provided coming down into the foyer, allowing you to take cover and him to shoot through the bars of the steps.

“Are you hit?” You asked, playing along with the game.

“Nothing I’ll die from.” He answered, reloading his weapons. “But, you can be a good nurse and kiss them all better.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“That’s cheating!” Myles yelled out.

“Well, If I was over there, I’d do the same thing to you, Bud!” You called back, planting a kiss on Sy’s cheek, his well-groomed beard tickling your skin.

“An aid relief truce then?” Myles suggested, poking his head out from under the table.

“Certainly not!” Sy barked back, popping a Nerf dart off over his son’s head, sending him scurrying back into his fort. “She’s my nurse! I found her out wandering the battlefield, unprotected. If you wanted her to be your nurse, you should have found her first, yourself!”

“I almost did! Before you kidnapped her!” Myles huffed, hotly. “You’re holding her hostage!” He suddenly insisted. “Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll rescue you!”

“Oh my, a hostage situation.” You sighed, licking your lips. “I appreciate your devotion, son.”

“Ha.” Sy scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t think so, boy. I’m escorting this lovely lady to the Lair.”

As Sy and Myles argued over who was going to have the pleasure of accompanying you upstairs, you caught a slight movement behind you and Sy, lurking in the darkness of the living room; moving slowly. It vanished behind the couch, and for a moment you thought it was just Aika, but when something popped up over the back of the couch, then quickly ducked down again, you were then positive it wasn’t the old girl. But your Daddy’s girl, Ada. Of all the children, six year old Ada was the most like her father. She’d been attached to Sy’s hip from the moment she left your womb. Hanging on Sy’s every word, movement and action, that sometimes it spooked you.

So, watching her stealth around in the dark of the living room was both impressive, amusing and a tad terrifying. Especially since you knew the little hellion was coming for revenge on her father and brother. There were no alliances between them during a Syverson war. You were the only ally allowed to go between the four of them. Mending wounds, mostly pretend ones, but sometimes there were real ones. Sometimes, you’d team up with one of them, to take on the other three.

“On your six! In the living room, babe!” You warned, snagging the Nerf pistol from Sy’s thigh holster as he reacted, purely by instinct, removing one of his baby powder pop grenades, tossing it behind him without looking, trusting your instruction.

Ada startled, surprised that you had noticed her, followed by a cloud of baby powder obscuring her view. She came to a halt, upon hurdling the back of the couch, in an attempt to overtake you and Sy. You took aim and fired, the Nerf dart hitting her square in the chest.

“Nice shot, hon.” Sy nodded, patting your leg, then called out to his daughter. “Sorry, Cricket, but that’s a kill shot.” He told her, his voice soft, but uncompromising.

Ada huffed, pressing her lips together. “Not fair, Mama isn’t supposed to shoot us! She doesn’t have anything to avenge!” She protested, crossing her arms.

Sy chuckled, cocking his head at her. “Mama has her own special rules in our Wars, you know that, Cricket.”

“I’ll come kiss it better, but you know Daddy’s five minute rule.” You chimed in, feeling bad about it, you honestly hadn’t meant to hit her, it was just a lucky shot.

But rules were rules. You could go and kiss her boo-boo better, allowing her to enter the War game again. However, Sy had made a rule that anyone hit with a Kill Shot had to be dead for at least five minutes, before you could render aid to them.

“All right.” Ada sighed, before flopping to the floor with a dramatic sound.

“Where were we?” Sy asked, then nodded. “Right, Myles, kindly allow me to escort my Nurse upstairs.”

“No deal, Pops.” Myles replied, shaking his head.

“Can I just go upstairs on my own?” You asked, peeking at your son through the spindles of the stairs.

Myles was quiet for a moment, considering. “Only if I get to keep you to myself for an hour!” He finally answered.

“Oh, he drives a hard bargain, that son of yours.” You teased Sy, tickling the back of his neck.

“That he does.” Sy agreed, shivering, as he brewed over Myles' offer. “You can have her for thirty minutes!” He negotiated with him.

“Thirty minutes!” Myles barked in outrage.

“You have to go to bed in two hours, boy!” Sy reminded him.

“So, give her to me for an hour!”

You smirked and pressed your palm to the base of Sy’s neck, leaning in close, your lips brushing against his ear, so only he could hear you. “Let him have me for the hour, Austin. I’ve been gone for twelve hours, and they have to go to bed in two. It’ll give me a little bit of time with them.” You reasoned with your husband. “We’ll have all night together after they're asleep, and the next two days, when they're at school.”

Sy nodded, rubbing his lips together. “You’re right.” He whispered back to you. “All right, you can have her for an hour, after you let her go upstairs and do what she pleases.”

A muffled yes came from the dining room. “Deal! You’re free to come out, Mama!”

“Thank God! I have to pee really bad.” You chuckled, kissing Sy, before scurrying out of your hiding place with him and started up the stairs, as you reached the top, you wondered where your middle child, Colt, was.

The seven year old was oddly missing in action the whole time the rest of you were battling and negotiating downstairs. As you reached the top, a cry filled the air, startling the life out of you, before a fury of Nerf darts peppered you all over.

“COLT!” You howled at the boy, dashing for your bedroom door and taking cover behind it.

“Colt Nero Syverson!” Sy’s voice called up the stairs. “You know the rules about firing upon your mother!”

“I’m sorry, Mama.” Colt’s soft voice whimpered in the dark to you. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“It’s fine, little man.” You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “Just mind yourself.”

“Okay, Ma.” He smiled, ducking back into his hiding place; his room.

“Oh, this family.” You sighed again, closing the door and rushing for the en suite, tugging off your shoes as you went. “Ooo.” You cooed, enjoying the feeling of the icy tile on your bare, throbbing feet.

Bladder empty, you splashed some cool water in your face, then got out of your nursing scrubs, replacing them with a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top. You laid down on your and Sy’s enormous bed, dozing off for a couple minutes before getting back up to fulfill the promises you made to Ada and Myles.

“Colt, I’m coming out, please don’t shoot me.” You called through the crack you opened in the bedroom door.

“Okay, Mama!” He called back.

Coming out of the room, you stood at the top of the stairs, but frowned and turned, heading down to Colt’s room. “What are you doing, buddy?” You asked, peeking around the doorframe, seeing he had made a little barricade and was hunkered down behind his bed. “Why haven’t you come down to challenge your dad, brother and sister?”

“Oh, I have, Ma!” He answered, his smile showing off the two front teeth he lost a month before. “I’m just waiting for the most opportune time to go back downstairs to finish off whoever is left.” He sat up on his bed a little more, eyeing you. “How many of them are left?”

You smirked at him, slyly. “You know I’m not allowed to give away information to someone, especially if I’m not teamed up with them, little man.”

“Poop.” He huffed, slapping his mattress and sitting back. “Do you wanna be on my team?” He asked, hopeful.

“Sadly, your Papa had to bargain me off to your brother for an hour, so I could go to the Lair and change.” You informed him, giving him a sympathetic smile. “But, how about this? When it’s bedtime, I’ll come and read to you, whatever you want.”

“Eragon!” He gasped, enthralled again.

“Deal.”

“Deal!”

“All right, wee man, if I don’t see you before then, I’ll see you at bed time.” You cooed at him.

You headed back downstairs, pausing on the middle landing. “I’m coming downstairs, don’t shoot!” You announced to Sy and Myles.

“All clear!” They both called back.

You joined them downstairs, finding them just as you left them.

“Mommy, can I be alive again?” Ada called to you from her spot behind the couch.

“Yes, love, I’m coming right now to fix your boo-boo.” You replied, crossing the entryway and leaned over her, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “There, sweet girl. All healed and alive again. Off you trot. Why don’t you watch a movie on your tablet, until bedtime?”

“Thanks, Mama!” She giggled, hugging your waist, then ran off.

With your daughter resurrected, you joined Myles in the dining room, and despite the soreness in your body, got under the table with him. “Just you, Colt and your Papa now, big man.” You told him, propping your head up on your hand. “Tough crowd.”

“But I got you, Mama.” Myles countered. “You can heal all my wounds.”

“Mm, that I can.” You nodded, casting your eyes past the table legs and made out Sy’s outline. “But, that’s about all the energy I’ve got for you. Bringing your sister back to life took a lot out of me. So, I can’t help you fight either of them.”

“That’s fine. I can finish them.”

You reached out and brushed your fingers through his tamed, black curls. “I have all the faith in the world in you, my sweet boy.” You cooed at him, lovingly.

“Moooom!” He groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Time’s wastin’, kid!” Sy called out.

“You stay here, mom. I’m gonna sneak around.” Myles said, wiggling back up the table towards the back entry of the kitchen.

“I’ll be here.” You replied, propping your head up on your hand, eyes drooping for a moment.

At least, you thought it was for a moment, until you felt a pair of strong hands grab your ankles and yanked you out from underneath the table, startling you awake from the nap you dozed into.

“Jesus.”

“Naw, just me, Angel.” Sy grinned, helping you up.

“Where’s Myles?” You asked, rubbing at the sleep in your eyes and noticing he wasn’t in his tactical gear anymore, but just a pair of shorts.

“Out cold in bed.” He answered, steadying you with his hands on your hips.

“But…” You frowned, glancing at the stairs over your shoulder.

“Colt came down not long after Myles tried sneaking around me through the kitchen.” Sy explained to you, a proud little glint in his blue eyes. “Took out both of us, the little rascal.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “We found you asleep and they understood you had a long day, and would spend time with them tomorrow, after they came home from school.”

You pressed your forehead against his chest. “What in the world would I do without you?” You cooed, sighing heavily.

“I don’t know what we would do without you.” He replied, encasing you in his muscular arms and resting his chin on top of your head, rocking gently. “Let’s go to bed, love.” He whispered, scooping you up off your sore feet and carried you upstairs, to bed.

You moaned softly, sinking into the mattress as Sy tossed the blankets over you and kissed your temple, before joining.

[shinjisdone]

𝑇𝜎 𝑆𝜎𝑓𝜏𝜀𝜋 𝛼 𝑊𝛼𝑟𝑟𝜄𝜎𝑟’𝑠 𝐻𝜀𝛼𝑟𝜏 (Vinland Saga; Thorfinn - 𝑺𝒍𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝑨𝒓𝒄, 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟏)

In which you have joined Askeladd’s band…and grow closer to the Son of Thors - though as your future seemed promising, his thirst for revenge devastated all that you had left.

[Headcanons of how it would be like to meet Thorfinn again after he shattered your heart (based on season 2; both platonic and romantic)

Sᴇᴀsᴏɴ ₁ ﹙Wᴀʀ Aʀᴄ﹚ is here

Part 2: - (Thorfinn trying to accept your existence as a slave)

Part 3: - (Thorfinn finding a reason to live, you finally see him)

Tag list:

@luopenis , @jinsecho , @mitsureigen , @theknightssecrets , @lana-del-stan , @theghostofanficpresent

[Mentions of murder, death, war, slave trade, harrasment against women and whatever awful things happened in the viking era. Slavery will be a main subject throughout the entire arc. Mostly gender-neutral examples but female-leaning ones are there, too.]

[This part will specifically mention: Nightmares, detailed gore and killing, slavery, humiliation, hallucinations, slight romanticization of death/wishing someone to be dead, slight panic]

Time And Time Again, My Hopes Are Gone...

Far west, across the sea is a land. Rich of fertile ground and warm all year round. He can see the stillness of the meadow as the wind softly blows through the trees.

The wilderness is untouched. Far away from slave traders and the flames of war. The sun is benign with its rays that gently fall on his skin. It's warm and quiet. A gale so soft it embraces his throbbing pain.

Far to the west, across the rich and green hill, is a figure drawing closer. Colors clashing with the soft sky and land, washed out compared to the world around him. Nevertheless, he feels his heart picking up on speed and appraoches the figure with painstakingly slow steps.

The colors and the gear are still the same. Old and bented, abused and dull and so was the glare in their eyes. He should not feel a thing here, knowing this gaze all too well, but it still festered fear inside his heart when it is directed at him. The clear blue sky grows red and the sun fled.

Still, somehow he was able to crack a strained, faltering smile. "...What are you doing here?" He needed to take a deep breath, "You still look the same...like yesterd-"

"What the hell are you talking about, dog?"

The feigning smile was wiped off his face in an instant as his eyes widened. He could feel his muscles aching again, his stomach grumbling, his heart shattering.

You looked at him with such distain in your eyes.

It's Like A Never-Ending Marathon...

"How can you even act like this? Does all of this mean nothing to you?"

His breath hitched in his throat, burning hot and sickening as the quietness of the world was cut down by the incoming roars emerging from the scenery behind you. Pumping up their spears and axes, they tainted the meadow red as small figures galloped across the sky. The fires were following closely after them.

"You left...left me, and left this massacre behind you as you trailed over the sea."

Chants of victories rung in his ears as the flames consumed the both of you. The herd of men loud and clear but always seemed too far to touch and reach. There you still stood, your glare as dark as thunder and never-changing.

"Coward. Deranged mutt. Calling yourself a warrior."

Jaw agape, he watched with white, bulging eyes the scene behind you. It was all too familiar that it should have kick in an instinct - but all he could feel was terror.

With a swift pull to your back, you drew the blade out before plunging it with a sprint down to his abdomen. He barely could let out a scream. Instead, wide agape, he looked down with darting eyes to see his father's dagger.

A crooked grin decorated your visage as you twisted the dagger, cut further, deeper horizontally before yanking it out. Blood tainted your skin.

He could feel himself fall. Fall longer, deeper, faster, down, down, down, and down before a scream pulled him out.

I Hear Voices Every Night Of The Ones I Left Behind...

The same quietness he dreamed about surrounds him in the hut. No, a barn it was. It didn't have a door and he constantly reeked of hay and manure.

Right - this was the barn on the farm.

Sluggishly, he got up as pieces of hay fell off his worn out tunic. With a slow and steady gate his legs carried him to the well standing still and cold in the early morning, the sun having risen just a moment ago as well. He reached out with rough and calloused hands to the cold water and splashed it on his face. Always three times at least as the master told him. With each splash, his mind and vision got clearer and finally, he breathed freely.

What a strange nightmare. This hollow feeling expanding in his heart remained even in the waking world but he cannot recall from what.

As the sun rose higher, he made his way over the dirty, sandy road. Not a lot of the others were up and about as he was, though he only paid attention to the forest further away. The tired mutters of greetings flew over him, like a leaf in the cold wind. All he needed was the axe.

The axe cuts. It hits the sturdy trunk, chopping it away bit by bit, splinters of wood occasionally digging into his skin. Though it was as thick as the trees themselves, so no one ever heard a complaint from him.

The axe cuts. No tree shrieks in pain nor does anyone raise a brow at the lone man in the forest letting one tree fall after another. It keeps him awake and his muscles at work.

The axe cuts. The trees die and fall like flies, slowly - as it is with tree felling, he was told - down to every last twig and root it bears. Nothing can be left behind as the master wished it. All needs to be cleaned off the land so he can use it. So he cut and cut and cut.

"Thorfinn!"

Thorfinn halted. Stopped in his tracks as he was told and looked up through lidded, droopy, brown eyes. In the distance he saw a hand waving as the master galloped closer and with him, a younger slave.

Getting off the mount, he steadied his fall. Master Ketil was an older and seasoned farmer. His blonde hair growing thinner, broad but kind face decorated with wrinkles and his wealth showing in his round stomach. Once again, as he often does, he approached Thorfinn with a smile. "You will be getting a friend." Then he pointed behind him and the youngling followed hastily to bow. "This is Einar and he will be helping you starting tomorrow to fell the trees and turn it into fertile farm land. Einar, Thorfinn has been doing this for a bit longer than a year, he will show you around."

Brown eyes followed the man's gesture and fell on the younger one with kempt, auburn hair. Face young and with no stubbles, a small wart at the side of his nose - finished with an nervous and perplexed expression.

His own looked deep into the one of his new companion and found nothing but vapidness in them.

"Oh, uhm...it's nice to meet you." Einar tried to crack a smile. Thorfinn did not.

With a small chuckle of his own, Ketil pointed towards the small forest, talking of an subject Thorfinn had heard of time and time again.

Talks of fertile land, of wheat, of buying and selling, surpassing ones own price and freedom.

Freedom.

Did he have any of that ever in the first place? He doubted it.

But the new guy had a different opinion of it.

"Buying ourselves back?!" Einar stuttered, not believing what the farmer had just uttered, "We can get our freedom back if we just plant and sell the wheat to you?!"

Ketil jumped and blinked in surprise. "Why...yes. Does that not sound like a good deal to you?" "It's not that! N-Not at all! Thank you, thank you so much! I'll gratefully take the offer!"

Without another word, Einar sprinted deeper into the forest. Sighing heavily, Ketil settled back on his mount, ready to go back. "Do show him around for today Thorfinn and don't have him slack off after that. Both of you have a lot of work to do."

The blonde looked back at him with lidded eyes.

"Yes, master."

Dragging himself after the brunette, the young man watched him observe the area in awe. Trees loomed over the two and Einar swiftly turned back to the shorter man, his jaw agape.

"Thorfinn, was it?! Is that something you can do here in Denmark?! You - You can buy yourself out of slavery?!"

That I Love...

In the midmorning, Einar couldn't sit still.

Strenuously, he mimicked Thorfinn's day-to-day work. Inspecting each tree and root, yanking on them with his bare hands in hopes it might detach just a bit, and throwing questions.

Thorfinn found his keenness perplexing.

At noon, Einar awaited food.

Hearing about the service of the helpers, paid guests helping and guarding Ketil's farm, he grew ever so keen again. The helpers were not the kindest folk and seemingly the most hungry as well.

"What is there to complain?" One sneered as he appraoched Einar. The latter showed the crumbles and nibbled cheese in his rough hands instead. "This, this is our food? How is this supposed to be enough for two people? And it was obviously gnawed on!"

"So?" The second man of the trio sauntered closer with a wide grin. "Slaves like you should be grateful you can even eat a day. For someone so small and little, you sure talk big. We helpers wake up each and every day to bring food to lowly rats like you! And none of you even have the brains on how to thank someone for it!"

With a shaking gasp, Einar stepped back. The mere tone. The way the spit splashed on his face as he talks with that knowing glint in his dull eyes.

How could someone be like that? Just a year ago, he was surrounded by normal people, a village and family.

Once again, the helper spits as he scoffed. "Say it, dog," The grin grew ever so crooked as Einar's shock quickly transformed into rage. "Say 'thank you for the food'."

Breath hitched as the brunette took everything within him not to batter the man here and there. Balling a fist, he pulled back - before a smaller figure squeezed himself between the men and held out the crumbs of bread in his hands.

Thorfinn avoided the helper's gaze and looked down, as if giving a woeful prayer. "We thank you for the food."

Einar observed the tension dissolving, face that of an fish out of water, as Thorfinn returned to his work as if nothing happened.

In the afternoon, Einar hauled a sack of hay on his shoulder, heart feeling disarrayed.

Up ahead he followed Thorfinn who carried two sacks on his shoulders. He wondered how he does it despite his shorter and hunched form.

In fact, the blonde always seemed to hunch so far. He wondered how he does the entire labourous work in the first place.

"...How can you do all of this so easily? And with an empty stomach, too, day in and out. Chopping off the trees and then hauling them off the ground...like that old donkey was of any help." He pouted at the memory of the helpers bringing in an old, weak horse as 'aid' while they snoozed under the trees, "And you were so obedient to these jerks, too."

The walk continued to be quiet. The brunette continued to pout, making an even longer face at the one-sided conversation.

"You know, you can report that to the master! No, we should, have to do that! We are his property and these jerks treated us like were are lesser than that! He should know how his slaves are being treated and get rid of these pigs!"

The walk was silent after that as well. Thorfinn did not turn his back away neither show any sign of taking in his words. Einar only pouted even more and bit his tongue - momentarily.

"You're really strange."

As if struck by lightning, the blonde stopped. A force jolted through his muscles and bones that almost threatened to have him let go of the hay. The same force took a hold of his heart, like a fist squeezing it so tight with the intent to kill him. It won't let go.

Calming down from the start, Einar sped up in front of him with raised brows. The blonde's face was frozen in fear.

"...Thorfinn...?"

"What did you just say?"

"Uh," Quickly, he stepped back. Even the way Thorfinn managed to utter the question, jaw agape and frozen as well, perplexed him. "I said you're strange. Like, it's not like I dislike you it's just…just that I thought we could talk more. You're so quiet all the time but then get so obedient around these jerks but then act like you don't care-"

Agonizingly slow does he regain his body. With each word Einar spoke, Thorfinn nodded along, listened and had it ring in his head like a chant. Just as slow, he began walking again. "...I really am, aren't I?" He muttered after taking a deep breath.

"Eh, uhm, what?"

"Strange..."

I'm Trying To Find The Place Where I Belong...

Thorfinn was allowed to call it a day early for teaching Einar.

Today's chores were almost completed anyway with how tenacious his new companion had been. It was an insistence he could not comprehend.

The brunette did not expect much when Thorfinn showed him the way to the small barn, pointing to the heaps of hay and buckets at the corners. The master's house was across the road at least and the well free for him to use.

Einar also expected not much from his peer, as he had learned today when he quickly dozed off. He believed him to be anyway, when he stayed silent through all his questions.

Einar was strange...but the blonde reckoned he was, too.

That night, his visions turned into nightmares once again - but only to be left forgotten again in the morning.

A dark blue sea and an equally dark sky above. The wrath of the gods over the clouds and a hoard of monsters waging further away. He found himself lucky he wasn't so close.

But that relief was cut short by the freezing pain in his abdomen, as he looked down at you, teeth gritting like a beast. When did he grow taller than you?

He always thought you were the same height. Or were you the taller one?

With a growl, you swayed back with the dagger out of his flesh and thrusted it into it again. Labored breaths tried to escaped your gritted teeth, nosetrils flaring up as you only scolwed at him. With great effort and little strength, you drew the blade back and stabbed him again.

"Liar..." You croaked out, the smallest of hints of tears in your eyes, "This isn't where we're supposed to be. You liar..." Another sob and another attack. Blood oozed out of his open stomach like a broken spring and while the pain was unbearable, Thorfinn remained standing.

"You were supposed to take me somewhere that isn't here!"

He watched with terror as you drowned in his blood.

Einar shot up at the ear-splitting shriek. He wondered how none of the master's family had heard.

All he vividly remembered on his first night on the farm as a slave, was Thorfinn feeling up his abdomen in a mad frenzy, his eyes wide and jaw agape in a silent scream.

Until I Do, I Guess I'll Carry On...

The sun rises and the reek of manure still dwells in his nose. Einar was not dreaming of the farm.

But as he followed Thorfinn's demure figure, anxiously keeping up with his chores and strength, he cannot keep his eyes off of him. Of this strange guy and his hushed whispers in the night.

Again, he observed and stayed back this time as the blonde accepted the spit thrown on his face and food. The amount of labor he carries on his broken back with an lost look in his eyes.

So small and dry, brown so hazy and milky, he wonders if he can even see.

Einar stays back and listens as the master and his employers give him more work, more duties, more praises, more insults. He takes it all the same.

Then, at the setting of the sun, the young man still stays back and watches with the rest of the slaves nearby as Thorfinn dropped all he had carried diligently to the master, and sprinted to a small person further away.

His heart beat in his ears, ringing against his skull and Einar found himself surprised as he prayed that Thorfinn would not get in trouble for whatever he was doing there.

Not getting in trouble for the calloused hand that reached out for that person's shoulder, how they yelped out and whipped their head around at the contact with the man.

How they watched as Thorfinn's hopeful face slowly dimmed to shock - then reverted back to his nonchalant ignorance.

What a fool he was. No, it couldn't be. The words he heard, they weren't yours. This little slave, just a terrified child, may have talked like you - walked like you, had a stature like you, looked like you - but in their place, you wouldn't have frozen on the spot. You would have killed him, or he you, when you gazed upon him as you did time and time again.

Without another word, he let his hand fall to his side and dismissed Einar's concerns. The brunette apologized for Thorfinn's stead but the man was already on his way to the barn.

He didn't even know what he was thinking. How his mind could see a silhouette that could resemble you, mistake you, and start running after you. Thorfinn didn't know what he was doing.

The master was already used to his behaviour. Perhaps that's why he wanted to get rid of him while still gaining a bit of gold.

Another night. Another new slave - a young, blonde woman - another curse from Einar about wars and beasts and another nightmare. It's what Thorfinn finally reckoned them as.

Trapped In Every Sacrifice,

Feel Like I'm Gonna Lose My Mind...

The demons that haunt him as he stabs them down for the earth to swallow. Your bloodied body holding a blade. The insults and spits thrown at him, his insides falling down into the sea. Your flailing arms as you cry for his help as the ground splits in two.

In the dead of the night, he checks for his companion, still seeing him to be asleep. Limply, Thorfinn forced himself to sit up.

The stars were as bright as ever. They were when you two were together but in the past year, the nightsky seemed different. Under it, all alone, he mumbled your name under his breath to remember you by.

That's right, he did not even have anything to remember you by, did he? Not a weapon, not a trinket, nothing. All that was left of you were the nightmares haunting his mind.

He hoped it was even less. In this cool, dark night, Thorfinn hoped you were dead. All would be easier for you to bear if just bones remained of you - and it would be easier to bear for him on his heart and mind.

You'd be free.

No Freedom, Without Love...

Scorching was the sun that morning as Ketil appraoched Thorfinn and Einar on his horse once again. Pater accompanied him with another in tow. Shackles of splinted wood around their swollen wrists. Their head hanging low.

"Thorfinn, Einar!" Ketil called out and began his usual prattling. His face bore that same, kind smile even when his words fell on some deaf ears. All Thorfinn could really focus on were lidded eyes slowly moving from the dirtied path up to him. Eyes that were drooped, limp, cold and familiar.

A shaky gasp. Air that got stuck in their lungs. Ketil halted in surprise as they stepped closer in hesitation, their bound hands rising and Pater yelling out about authority and respect of a property to follow.

All Thorfinn could hear were their breathless gasps, the darting eyes, hollow and in tears as their chafed hands gingerly cradled his face - as if unsure if he was really there.

Then, the shock turned into sorrow and anger.

"...You were supposed to be in Iceland..."

Pater yanked them away from him, the familiar warmth gone as they disorientate. Thorfinn could barely breath.

[communistkenobi]

I watched The Northman today. I heard it described as a movie that depicts a social world with a totally different sense of morality and way of living. and like no not really lol it’s a pretty straightforward movie about revenge and a king murder plot, there’s nothing particularly morally shocking or unconventional about it that you wouldn’t see in other films about vikings. Like maybe I’m desensitised but slaughtering whole villages and taking sexual slaves is not really out there, they did all that shit in game of thrones like ten years ago. Probably the only thing that’s more graphic is a few of the death scenes where corpses are arranged into the shape of an animal or a guy gets disembowelled. It’s basically like hamlet. There’s even ghosts and incest in it. Very cool production design with all the viking villages and cabins and shit though. Like really big ornate carved wooden beams and animal hides and chainmail armour and long boats and all of that. Robert Eggers loves shooting in firelight and he’s pretty good at it, you can see what you need to and the high-contrast lighting is fun to look at. idk what chemicals they pumped into Alexander Skarsgard to make his shoulder muscles look like that but he did a good job howling like a dog and being insane the whole movie. Nicole Kidman was probably the standout performance, she was the best out of the cast at delivering all the mythical folktale sounding dialogue

[octuscle]

I keep seeing Midwestern stuff everywhere. Ads for Illinois tourism. Football fans wearing Vikings and Packers gear. Fuck it, can’t beat ‘em, join em. Can you make me into a big, beefy corn-fed Midwestern football guy?

Sure thing, mate! Time to turn you into a big, beefy corn-fed Midwestern football guy! First things first, we gotta get you suited up proper. We’re talking a classic flannel shirt, jeans sturdy enough to handle farm work, and a pair of solid boots. Don't forget the trucker cap on your greasy mullet, gotta rep the local team!

Now, we gotta beef you up. Get you hitting the gym, pumping iron like there’s no tomorrow. We want arms like tree trunks and a chest that can stop a charging bull. And of course, we gotta get you eating like a true Midwesterner. That means plenty of steak, potatoes, and don’t forget the corn on the cob!

Next up, we gotta get you into the football scene. Start watching every game, learning the plays, and cheering on your local team like they’re family. Get yourself a jersey, maybe even paint your face in team colors for game day.

And last but not least, we gotta work on that accent. You gotta start drawling out those words like you’re straight outta the heartland. Throw in a “ya know” here and a “uff da” there, and you’ll be fitting in with the locals in no time!

There you have it, buddy. You're now a big, burly, corn-fed Midwestern football guy who's ready to tackle anything that comes his way! I've added a few more inches to your cock. I think that will come in handy when you're fucking your buddies at the sports bar or in the locker room at the gym.

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

EWAN MITCHELL in the interview for british vogue:

“I like shapeshifting.” — talking about playing michael gavey, in saltburn.

“He hijacks the show and turns it into a horror film. You’re gonna see the repercussions of that and you’ll see another side to Aemond.” — on what to expect from aemond in HOTD S2.

“I’ve never seen Thrones. I avoided it. I wanted to create something fresh.” — To do so, he employs a “bespoke method”, combining unexpected references: Kirk Douglas in The Vikings, Michael Fassbender in Prometheus.

To keep the right mindset during filming, he listened to Metallica, Slipknot and Killswitch Engage “to get the blood pumping.”

“I’m just up for trying different things that challenge me.” — about experimenting with fashion.

Mitchell was laughed at in the classroom when he said he wanted to be an actor.

When he's not working, he loves camping in the Peak District.

“I’m like a sleeper agent. To friends, I come with a disclaimer: if I get a call, I’m taking it. It doesn’t matter if I’m at a birthday party… I’m jumping on the back of the dragon.” — talking about his work ethic.

[idexindia]

Understanding the Mechanics: How Viking’s Internal Gear Pump Works

Viking pumps are well known for their performance and effectiveness, especially due to their internal gear pump design. This article delves into the workings of Viking’s gear pump, shedding light on how it operates through positive displacement. Additionally, we will discuss the materials utilised in Viking gear pumps, such as cast iron and stainless steel tailored for usage scenarios.

[stressed-sock]

Heyyyyy do you want dominion SMP head cannons? Welp your getting some!

You know how birds puff up their wings or frilled lizards will pump their frills with blood? For intimidation purposes? Yeah- everyone on Dominion has some variant of that.

Nukeri puffs up his wings, Jamie and Viking fan theirs out and whip their tails around, Sneve gets very smoky, Shadow and Legundo mock-charge, etc

I think this is fun to think about :)

helloooo sorry for the late response but here’s a bunch of sketches! :D

all in various stages of pissed off/threatening lol

also I did change the things for shadow and legundo - I think shadow would start smoking from the mouth, kinda similar to how I imagine withers preparing to shoot a projectile ig! meanwhile I couldn’t think of how to draw a mock charge so I just gave legs a knife XD

[nerd-flash]

things i’ve said about ryan lindgren in the past 24 hours

•he’s hot in a viking warrior way

•like puts women and children first kind of way

•build you a boat kind of way

•pump your gas for you hot

•holds the door then smacks your ass as you walk through it kind of hot

•keeps your favorite snacks in the cupboard at his house kind of hot

•rough hands but a smooth talker kind of hot

•i wanna see him shirtless chopping up fire wood in the forest lol 😂 then he builds me a fire to keep me warm

•i wish i was a good writer because a wilderness lindy fan fiction would smack so hard

•he is. so soft and sweet. but so manly

•ugh he has serious “get behind me i’ll handle this” energy i love it

•yeah there’s something about a man that’s kind of bullet proof

gif cred: @mattrempe

[kirk-says-wah]

44 with James and Lars. Viking jarl/chieftain James and his slave boy Lars that he captured on a raid. 🥵🔥

Thank you for the ask! I think I got a bit carried away with this one but I hope you like it 💕

Send me a pairing and a number and I’ll write a little something

44 - Class or power differences AU (noble/commoner, master/slave, etc.)

James leans down, smooths his hands through long brown hair. Lars shifts, kneeling at James’s feet, unsure if he should do something.

James always likes him to be silent during his meetings, and Lars doesn’t mind keeping still as long as James keeps touching him. He likes to preen under the attention, even when everything is screaming at him not to.

Eventually, James dismisses the meeting, stands, drags Lars onto his feet by his hair. Lars tries not to hiss with pain, but James will still see the slight twitch to his mouth.

Lars is ushered along to the bedroom, which is where he spends most of his time these days.

“Bitch,” James grumbles, kicking at his ankles when he doesn’t move fast enough, and Lars picks up speed until finally they’re next to the bed.

Lars automatically takes his pants off, James doesn’t let him wear anything else, and dutifully gets on the bed on all fours.

James gives a deep hum, pressing his fingers purposely hard into the knobs of Lars’s spine. Lars swallows the whine in his throat.

“Have you had a good day?” James murmurs, unhooking his animal skin belt from around his waist. It drops to the floor with a resounding thud and Lars shudders, his cock filling out between his legs.

“Yes sir,” Lars says, doesn’t look at James. He knows not to look at him unless told to.

James drops his trousers, not bothering to take off his tunic. He’s still got business to take care of after this. He just likes to take time out to let himself go and enjoy himself. He hasn’t had someone so willing to be at his beck and call in a long time and it’s refreshing.

He smooths his palm over Lars’s asscheek, before hitting it, watching it wobble as a branded handprint stings into his flesh. Lars lets out a cut off moan, embarrassment making his stomach go tight, face flushed.

James grabs his chin, yanks his head so they’re face to face.

“Did I say you can make a sound?”

Lars swallows, eyes wide as he takes in James’s fierce appearance. His long blonde mane bulking out over his shoulders, dark black kohl smudged around his eyes, over his nose in a rough stripe, making his stark blue eyes stand out. His beard is growing, longer now than when James had first captured Lars, and Lars already loves the scrape of it against his chin when he kisses him, against his taint when he eats him out.

James looks like a monster, even without all his armour, and it still makes Lars shrink, still has him shaking slightly.

“No sir,” he replies, mouth dry, and James bares his teeth before leaning forwards, smashing their mouths together.

Lars sink forwards, arms hardly holding him up as he relishes in the feeling of James’s lips against his own. James smiles against him before pulling back, letting go of Lars’s chin so hard that Lars’s head is pushed backwards, landing on the pillow at the top of the bed.

Lars wiggles his ass where it’s raised upwards, and James climbs on to sit behind him, pressing his cock through the tunic against Lars’s cheeks.

“You’re the prettiest little slave boy I’ve ever had,” he says, rakes his nails over Lars’s hips. Lars knows there where guys before him, and he dreads to think what happened to them before he got here. Hopefully James likes him enough to make him stick around.

“Thank you, sir,” Lars breathes, rocks his ass back minutely, feeling the outline of James’s cock press into his crack.

Wet fingers finally prod at his entrance, and Lars sucks in a breath. He’s already prepped, James already reamed his ass only an hour ago, but he won’t lie, having James take his time with him is nice.

James quickly presses three fingers into Lars’s tight hole, pumping them quickly, always angling away from his prostate just to make Lars frustrated.

Lars just wants to whine for him to get on with it, but he knows that will just end in punishment. Punishment being no cock in his ass.

He instead buries his face into the pillow until finally James presses his fat cock to Lars’s little furled hole.

“You want this?” James grunts, bucks his hips so that his cock slides over Lars’s hole.

Lars keens, daring to look over his shoulder. James is looking back at him, eyebrow arched, nostrils flared. He looks like a god, all tan sweaty skin and golden hair.

“Please, sir,” Lars whines, grasps his fingers into the sheets.

James smiles, teeth bared, before he slowly sheaths himself into Lars’s warm, tight heat.

Lars buries his moan into the pillow, hands clamped into the bedding as James pushes apart his insides, presses in so deep Lars is pretty sure if he looked down he’d see James’s bulge pressing through the thinness of his stomach.

Lars can hardly breath, gasping harshly as James finally seats himself in his ass.

James grunts behind him, reaches up to yank on Lars’s hair.

Lars yelps, head flying back, and he’s driven even further onto James’s thick cock.

“You’re my bitch, got it?” James spits, thrusts his hips to punctuate his words.

Lars cries out, James’s dick so big that it presses against his prostate. James’s hand pushes down, pressing Lars’s face into the mattress.

“My little sex slave,” he grunts, and Lars has to try and breathe to make sure he doesn’t just blow his load already.

He pushes back into James’s thrusts, and James praises him, smooths a hand over Lars’s hair.

[viking-raider]

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT > PART TWO

Summary-> It's a lovely first morning for Alexa and Henry, as they continue to learn about one another, and filming their new marriage gets serious.

Pairing-> Henry Cavill/OFC (Alexa)

Word Count-> 3k

Parts-> I

Warnings-> PG: Arranged Marriage, Language, Banter

Inspiration-> Nick and Vanessa Lachey’s Love is Blind on Netflix.

Author’s Note-> My apologies if any of the information on Alexa's T1 is incorrect. I'm willing to take advice. But there’s not many to do. I hope you enjoy! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’

– The Honeymoon –

Stirring, Alexa no longer felt the engulfing warmth of Henry's body against her back and rolled onto hers. Looking to his side of the bed, she found it empty. Casting her eyes out of the mountain of blankets, she discovered her husband's silhouette against the sparkling sun, standing on the veranda and enjoying a cup of coffee. A sleepy smirk pulled across her lips, sitting up and brushing the loose strands of snow-white hair out of her face.

“Morning.” Henry said with a low rumble, coming to stand in the open door.

“Good morning.” Alexa greeted him back, stretching and sighing, feeling a bit jet-lagged from their flight, but nothing that would affect their day. “How long have you been up?” She asked, glancing at the clock on her nightstand, reading it was almost noon.

“An hour or two.” He answered, taking a deep swallow of his coffee. “I've just been enjoying the nice weather, until you woke up, so we could have breakfast.”

“You've been waiting for my lazy tush to get out of bed, to eat breakfast?” Alexa gasped, looking at him with surprise.

“I have.” Henry smirked, amused. “I don't mind. Besides, Riah called not long after I woke up, to tell me they'll be here at two, to start filming us.”

“Lovely.” She gulped, looking down at the blankets pooled around her waist, chewing on her lip for a moment. “Well, I'll get up and dress, while you order us breakfast!” She said, sliding to the edge of the bed.

“Do you want anything specific?” He asked, cocking his head at her, sensing an odd energy from her.

“Um, if they have oatmeal and whole-grain toast, definitely bananas, and a fruit smoothie, soy-milk.” She rambled off, heading into the closet for her clothing.

Henry smiled, amused at her appetite. “Will do, love.”

“Oh!” Alexa gasped, popping back out of the closet, stopping Henry on his way out of the bedroom. “No strawberries! I'm super allergic to them. Like, we'll spend our honeymoon in the hospital with anaphylactic shock.”

“Definitely no strawberries.” Henry shook his head, blue eyes big with concern.

Alexa nodded at him, then disappeared back into the closet. Henry came back a short time later, to find her sitting cross legged on the closet floor, a kit unfolded before her.

“What are you doing?” He asked, frowning down at her.

“I'm reapplying my insulin pump and glucose sensor.” She replied, frowning up at him, before recalling Henry hadn't been in the room nor awake, when she checked her levels. “I have Type One diabetes. I was diagnosed when I was eight years old, after getting sick. I'm sorry, I didn't tell you. I should have, but it's such a part of my life, wearing my pump and sensor, or pricking my finger and using my insulin pens, that sometimes I don't think to tell new people in my life I have it.” She explained to him, gulping.

“Unless it's someone that needs to know.” Alexa added, quietly.

“And your new husband isn't one of those people?” Henry asked, moving to squat in front of her, looking over everything she had laid out. “What if your sugars dropped and you got sick or something? I'd have no idea what was wrong with you. I'd have no clue how to take care of you. What dose to give you. What to tell the emergency doctors, when I rushed you to the hospital.”

The look of terrified worry on Henry's face formed a small, nauseous lump in Alexa's throat.

“Well, I can show you, if you want?” She said, smiling softly at him. “I just started this.” She told him, motioning to the equipment.

“I'd like that.” He replied, nodding and sitting down with her.

“All right.” Alexa grinned, wiggling in her spot. “So, I use this-” She held up an applicator between her fingers. “This is my Dexcom G-Six, glucose sensor and applicator, it pairs to my phone via Bluetooth.” She picked up her phone with her other hand, showing Henry the screen. “And an app I have on it. Through that, it checks my levels every five minutes. It tells me what my levels are, where they were and are heading.”

Henry nodded his head, listening intently. “All right. Where does it go?”

“It goes right here on my arm.” Alexa answered, using the corner of her phone to tap the back of her arm, before setting it down to pick up a single-use alcohol swab. “I need to clean the spot I'm going to put the sensor in, obviously.” She explained, ripping open the swab and cleaning the meaty area at the back of her arm. “While I do that, you want to do something for me?” She asked, cocking a brow at him.

“Of course, what do you need?” Henry asked, perking up.

“In that little pocket of my kit, there are over-patches—they'll help keep my sensor on my arm, they're different patterns.” She told him, with an amused smirk. “Why don't you pick one for me to put on it.”

Henry smirked back at her. “I can do that.” He nodded, pulling the five or six sealed patches out and filed through them, looking at the designs. “This one seems appropriate.” He decided, holding up a patch with cartoon-ish, blue, gray and black whales.

“Excellent choice!” Alexa agreed, picking up the applicator and pressing it to the sterilized area of her arm, hissing softly. “It's as simple as that really.” She said, setting the applicator aside, rubbing her finger around the edge of the initial adhesive. “Other than holding down on the button for a few seconds, to make sure the sensor and my phone pair.” She added, pressing down on it for a moment, then held her hand out for the over-patch, taking it from Henry and removing the clear film, to carefully seal it around the sensor.

“That one is done!” She giggled, wiggling her brows at him.

“I'm guessing you also have dietary needs.” Henry said, watching her fiddle with another device.

“I do have several things on my do not eat list, yes.” Alexa nodded, eyes on her task.

“Strawberries being one of them.”

“That's one of them, on the longer list.” She chuckled, looking up at him. “I'm generally on a low-carbs diet. A lot of sugary items and fried foods. Fruits, veggies, whole-grain, etc are great for me.” She listed off for him, watching the wheels of his brain turn through the blue of his eyes. “So, this is my insulin pump, Omnipod. It's a tubeless insulin pump that gives me three days worth of insulin, before I have to change it. My Dexcom and Omnipod talk to each other, so it knows how much insulin I need, without me having to do much of anything, besides making sure I'm eating and drinking right, and staying active.”

“That's great.” Henry nodded, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth as he watched her.

“So, this is a bit of a process.” She told him, opening a fresh Omnipod package. “I need to fill this syringe with about a hundred and thirty units of my insulin for the next three days.” She instructed him, opening the box with her Humalog insulin vial.

“You need to draw it straight out of the bottle?” He frowned, watching her use a alcohol swab and clean the top of the vial, before taking a syringe that was provided with her Omnipod out.

“Yes, unfortunately things like this aren't customizable.” Alexa answered, carefully twisting on the needle part of the syringe, drawing the plunger back, inserting the needle into the vial, then proceeding to draw the amount of insulin she needed into it. “Maybe, someday in the future.” She said, looking up at him, a small glitter of hope in her eyes. “Now that I have the insulin in the syringe, I just insert it here, into this little hole, and push it in, filling the pod for the next seventy-three hours and we wait for it to prime.”

“Where do you put this one?”

“I can put it on my arms, like my Dexcom, but on the opposite arm it's on. My thighs or my stomach. I usually prefer to have them both on the backs of my arms. But since we're on our honeymoon, I'm just going to pop it on my stomach.” She told him, tapping the screen of the Omnipod's control screen, recording where she was placing it, then stood up.

“It's easy standing.” She told Henry's expression, cleaning the spot on her stomach and securing the pod over it.

“Is that it?” Henry asked, as she sat down again, but leaning back slightly.

“No, now I need to let the Pod know it's in place, so it can insert the little tub that'll deliver my insulin.” She answered, tapping the control screen again, causing a couple soft clicks to fill the space between them, before a sharper one and her small jolt. “Now, it's done.” She smiled at him, taking an over-patch and securing it around the pump.

“That is quite the process.” He commented, shaking his head. “And you've been doing this since you were eight.”

“Mmhm.” She nodded, sighing softly. “Just second nature now. It's gotten easier over the years. Especially, with the new medications that have come out and the technology. So, who knows what science will come up with next!”

“A cure, hopefully.”

“That would be lovely.” Alexa nodded, a dreamy look on her face. “But I don't see that in my lifetime.”

“You never know.” Henry cooed, winking at her.

“True, I never thought I'd get married, and here I am.” She giggled, tucking away her equipment and zipping up her kit, before picking up the rubbish.

“What about your pens?” Henry asked, looking up at her.

“Oh, I don't need those, unless I'm not using my pump or my levels drop too low for it.” She answered, moving around him to exit the closet.

“But,” Henry climbed to his feet, following after her. “Why didn't you wear them yesterday, when we married?”

Alexa sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I didn't want them to be seen through my dress.” She confessed, biting her lip and looking at him over her shoulder. “So, I took them off and just monitored my levels though finger pricks and my pens.”

“And our flight home?”

“I was too tired to go through the process of putting them on.”

Henry sighed, cocking his head at her, a tender expression on his face. “I wish you had said something. I would have helped.”

“I know.” Alexa whispered, smiling at him. “I'm learning you're quite the attentive person, Henry Cavill.”

“I love taking care of those around me.” He replied, reaching out to touch her cheek with his index finger. “Especially my wife.”

“Mmm.” She blushed, nose wrinkling cutely.

The doorbell sounded, reminding them that breakfast had arrived for them. Henry opened the door for the room service butler, while Alexa headed out onto the veranda off the kitchen, making herself comfortable at the table there. Facing towards the glittering strip of beach and ocean, the call of seabirds as they swooped down for their own breakfasts.

“Isn't it lovely out?” Henry asked, coming out to join her.

“It really is.” She nodded, reclining in her seat and casting an eye over the trolley the butler was bringing out. “You picked quite the spread.” She commented, feeling her stomach rumble, looking over the plates of food.

Henry blushed slightly, taking a seat across from her. “Yeah, I get a bit of an appetite after jet-lag.” He admitted, nodding appreciatively at the butler, who stopped the trolley beside the table and excused himself. “That's a Mango and Banana smoothie from their menu, that I ordered for you, with your request of soy-milk.” Henry explained, motioning to the glass on the cart.

“I hope that's all right?”

“That's more than fine.” She assured him, grabbing her toast and oatmeal with a couple of banana slices in it. “They're both good for me.” She commented, picking up the cool and sweaty glass, taking a sip of the soy-milk smoothie and hummed with approval. “I don't remember the last time I had a mango, but that is delicious!” She smiled, setting the glass beside her bowl, then fixed her arctic-blue eyes on Henry.

“So, Husband, what do you want to do today?” She asked, picking up her spoon to dig into her oatmeal.

“I'm not sure.” Henry hummed, pausing in eating his fork full of his ham and cheese omelet. “We could just go about and check out the island.” He suggested, taking the bite and chewing, before sitting back for a moment. “You mentioned yesterday there's a lot of good walking trails and sites to see. Like, waterfalls.”

“Yeah.” Alexa nodded, mulling it over, nursing her smoothie. “We will have the film crew following us around, like lost puppies as well.” She reminded him, biting the corner of her lip. “Give us the moment to get used to them practically stalking us.”

Henry heaved a sigh, picking up the coffee pot and poured himself a fresh cup. “That's also true.” He replied, dumping a single sugar into it. “I'm used to a camera only following me around in a studio or a specific location. Not all day, every day. For every moment of my life.”

“For any entire year of our life.” She added, cocking a brow at him.

“Mmhm.” He nodded, sipping his steaming coffee. “Let's find a trail.” He said, digging his phone out of his pocket and pulling up Google.

Alexa slid her chair over closer to Henry and cocked her head over his shoulder to see his screen, watching him scroll through, best hiking trails in Tamarindo. “Oh, that one has a waterfall and a hot spring we could swim in.” She commented, pointing one of them out. “Be a good place to relax for a short bit, before we head back.” She suggested, looking up at Henry.

“I mean, I have to make sure my husband's old bones can make it back.” She teased, an impish smirk curling up the corners of her mouth as her blue eyes sparkled.

Looking at her, Henry pressed his lips together, his eyes both roguish and cool. “Ha-ha.” He replied, carefully knocking her with his shoulder, but grinned as Alexa giggled at him, resting her chin on his shoulder and hugging her arms around his torso.

Henry stared into her eyes, feeling his throat tighten with her body pressed against his, her smiling face close to his. Licking his lips, he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, cutting off her giggle with soft and surprised gasp. Alexa's eyes flared, staring into Henry's, that were still open and looking at her, measuring her reaction to him kissing her. But she had done the same thing as she did on the altar the day before. Alexa returned his kiss, her hand twisting up the fabric at the back of his tank top and tugging him closer to her; her eyes fluttering shut.

Sighing softly, Henry's hand lifted to grip the back of Alexa's neck, pulling her against his body and holding her there as they deepened the kiss, lips moving slow and gentle. But it didn't last, as Henry got a creeping feeling of being watched and cracked an eye open, finding Riah stepping out onto the veranda with them, a broad grin on her face.

“The doorbell broken?” He asked, moving away from Alexa, feeling a protective bubble form in the pit of his stomach, resting a hand on her back, seeing Alexa's face flush bright red, hiding away from them, until she got control of herself.

“No.” Riah answered, unperturbed. “I used it. I just guess the two of you were too distracted to hear it, so I let myself in.” She explained, holding up a spare key to their villa. “Nice to see the two of you are getting comfortable with one another.”

“You can say that.” Alexa rasped, turning back towards the conversation, licking her lips. “So,” She looked down at her watch, then cocked her brow at the other woman. “You're early.”

“Yeah, we figured we'd come over and start setting up. Go over a few things.” Riah told her, unbothered as the cameraman from yesterday appeared from behind her. “This is Jesse, he'll be the cameraman following you around for a majority of your year together, unless something should come up.” She explained to Alexa and Henry, motioning to Jesse, who gave them a small wave and nod. “A large portion of the time, it'll just be Jesse filming you. Wherever you go, he'll be with you. Until you get home, that is.”

“Then, we get privacy, I hope.” Alexa commented, under her breath, picking up her smoothie to finish off what was left.

“Not completely.” Riah retorted, arching a brow at her. “We'll have at least one camera in all the rooms, but the bathroom, for obvious reasons. They'll roll until a certain point, then will be shut off and the footage will be edited for your privacy and the show's content.”

Henry glanced over at Alexa, hearing her quiet groan. “I suppose, it's what we signed up for.” He said, trying to sound confident.

“It's exactly what you both signed up for.” Riah reminded them, looking between him and Alexa. “So, what are the two of you doing today?” She asked, folding her arms. “Other than sucking face.” She added with a quip.

“We decided,” Henry replied, clearing his throat. “to go on a hike. There's a nice trail with a waterfall and hot spring we want to check out and enjoy.”

“Marvelous.” Riah grinned, excited to film the two of them on an outing. “Jesse will get set up and the two of you can just go about as if he's not even here.”

“Right.” Alexa nodded, staring into the bottom of her glass, before looking up at Henry, finding him gazing at her.

[froggyfics]

For Your Pleasure - 2

The man wreaks havoc.

First time writing smut and dark content...I'm not sure if I like it???

18+ only! I do not consent for this content to be viewed by minors. Please take heed of the warnings listed, though they are not entirely comprehensive. Do not continue reading if you are uncomfortable with the content. This story and its contents are 100% fictional, and are not affiliated with Marvel Comics.

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Pairing: viking!dark! Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Warnings: noncon/rape, penetrative p in v, violence

Word Count: 1,471

“Have mercy. Please,” you gasp. His weight on you becomes unbearable. The lack of oxygen makes your head throb.

He ignores your pleas and continues ripping your dress down the middle with his knife. As soon as the slit reaches past your breasts, you instinctively move your arms to cover your chest. 

He throws his knife on the floor and roughly grabs your arms. He forces them apart, only to meanly grab your breasts.

He leans in so close that his lips graze your ear. “I knew you had more to offer me.”

Before you can even protest, he dips down and takes one of your nipples into his mouth. You squirm under the new sensation and yelp when he cruelly bit down. 

You watch in shock as he pulls away from you with your nipple still in your mouth, stretching it to new lengths. He does the same with your other nipple while you weakly protest. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears until he slightly lifts himself. Oxygen rushes into your lungs as the weight has finally been lifted.

While you wheeze for air, he grabs the bottom of your dress and pulls upwards. You flail your arms in his direction, but your attempt at hitting him is futile. 

He flings the bottom half of your dress over your waist to where it now blinds your face. You can feel the goosebumps form on your lower half as your intimate parts are now on display for him. His hand reaches under your hips and lifts it while you rip your dress away from your face. 

You watch on in horror when his metal arm pulls the strings on his pants, loosening them. He pulls out his semi-hard cock and smiles at you when he pumps it to its peak. 

“Such a pretty thing,” he says. “Tell me, have you ever been with a man?”

You whimper when you shake your head. 

“Aww,” he condescendingly coos. He wipes a salty tear that escapes your eye with his metal thumb. He brings his hand to his face and licks his thumb clean of your tear. “Delicious.”

Your body remains at an inverted angle, making it all the more difficult to land your punches. Your heels kick at the ground, trying to gain traction to bump him off, but he remains steadfast in his position. 

He grips your hips with both hands harshly. It feels as though your pelvis will break under his pressure. His now hardened cock prods your folds.

“I beg of you,” you plead, but they fall upon deaf ears. 

You feel his cock prodding at your entrance, but are relieved when his first few attempts are unsuccessful. Your relief is only momentary however, as he finally breaches your walls with his tip.

You hiss at the burning sensation and intuitively clench your dry walls. He pulls out, only to spit on himself, spreading his saliva from his tip to his base. He resumes his original position and this time, he drives himself deep into you.

You choke on your saliva at the foreign sensation. The fiery pain spreads across your abdomen and thighs. It feels as though he has penetrated your stomach. 

“Oh, yes,” he groans. His head slumps backward in pleasure while his hips continue snapping into you. Each thrust is harder and more painful than the last. You attempt to keep your head up to morbidly witness him ravaging you. His eyes meet yours and you pray that your face conveys your pain.

He instead grins and starts grabbing everything. Your thighs. Your buttocks. Your breasts. Your body is his toy and he plays with it to his heart’s content. Sticky red tissue coats his cock, but he continues, nonetheless. 

The burn in your neck from holding your head up makes you concede. Your head drops to the floor and you close your eyes. You concentrate on your breathing, but his grunts and the smacking on your conjoined bodies make it hard for you to dissociate. 

Your eyes fly open at a particularly hard thurst. You can’t help but yelp, and he laughs at your discomfort. Your ears perk up at the sound of voices and footsteps outside the door.

“Help! Help me!” you scream. The voices stop and you can see the shadows of bodies at the bottom of the door. You nearly smile at the thought of help arriving. 

The footsteps recede and the voices move farther and farther away. He yanks your head up by your hair and your hands fly up to your scalp in response.

“No one is coming for you.”

Your body now is now almost completely off the floor, save for your legs. This new angle allows for easy access to his face. 

You instantly regret it the moment your palm lands on his cheek. The only evidence of your violence is a pinkish handprint on his face. He doesn’t flinch in the slightest at your retribution. 

He spits directly onto your face. His saliva coats your eyes and nose. He pulls out of you suddenly and your body sags in relief. The burning sensation remains, but it is significantly reduced while he’s not penetrating you. 

Your reprieve doesn’t last long. You screech in surprise when you flips you around. This time, your entire body remains flat on the ground. He enters you again from behind in one violent motion. 

He places his large hand on the back of your head and smushes your face down into the dirt floor. Your nose and lips are crushed as you inhale soil from both orifices. It’s a different kind of suffocation than from earlier – this time you are sure that you are going to die.

“Oh, stupid girl,” he moans above you. “You were so good to me earlier.” He pulls on your hair to wrench your head up. His face is twisted in pleasure while you’re sure yours is twisted in agony. 

“Tell me you want it,” he growls.

“Wh – what?”

He harshly tugs on your hair. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you cry, unsure of what exactly you’re referring to, only hoping that the torture ends soon enough. “Please, give it to me.”

“A pretty girl like you,” he grunts, “You certainly are good enough to bear my seed.”

You gulp in horror as the revelation of what he’s about to do rains down on you. “Wait, no, please.”

His hand moves from your hair down to your throat. He grips the front of your neck and squeezes. Hard. Your pleas die in your throat as the pressure increases. His hips snap into you so harshly that you stomach bounces on the cold, hard dirt beneath you, preventing air from fully entering your lungs. His grip on your throat blocks out nearly all the air that enters. 

His face moves down to nuzzle against the side of your neck, only for a moment, before he bites down. It takes all your effort to not pass out from the pain. His moans are loud, even though his mouth is covered by your neck. His thrusts steadily slow down and his cock throbs inside you. His grip on your neck loosens, but you don’t even bother to gulp in air.

You stay flat on the ground, even though he releases his hold on you. He has won. He may not have raided your family’s food supply, but he has still taken everything from you. 

“Get up.”

When you remain on the floor, he lightly kicks your ribs. “Do not make me repeat myself. I am a man of carnal desires. I can perform many more rounds if you’d like.”

The thought of him wrecking your body once more prompts you to follow his directions. You shakily stand on your feet like a newborn calf, a sort of wetness dripping down your thighs. 

He tightens his pants all while walking around your one-room home. He stops at the barrel of grains that you had originally planned on giving him to him. He plants one foot on it and pushes. The barrel teeters on its side dangerously, until he uses his foot to pull it back into its upright position. 

“I am a fair man,” he starts. His lifts his arms to display his arrogance. “Take one barrel of grains to my ship. The rest of your food supply will remain here with your family. If they are alive.” He winks at you. “After all, they will have one less mouth to feed.”

Terror invades your heart as you process his last sentence. 

His belly shakes in tune with his hearty laugh. “Fear not! I do not intend to kill you. After all, who else will warm my bed while I travel the across the sea, if not you?”

[rocksanddeadflowers]

Kvasir messes me up so so so fucking much you guys. Like I understand the vikings had a different approach to death and yada yada so forth whatever arguments you wanna make they're reasonable but still it. I just.

You mean this beloved man, known for his wisdom and poem and song, and who went around helping people with his wisdom and poem and song and was dearly beloved by the gods just. You guys he was straight up murdered and his blood stolen for magic fucking mead. There's no revenge for his murder or anything it's just that Odin saved his mead.

"Folk declares that every skald (poet) has a drop of Kvasir's blood in him. ... because a world without it's poets would be too dreadful a place to image."

Messed up or not, he lives on in poets, storytellers, and songwriters alike- all those with the understanding of the power of word, the wisdom to yield it.

In The Bifrost Incident it's still the same. His blood pumping and fueling the machine, running through arcane glyphs. He's always just been used for his blood, and even more irony drawn from it likely being Odin gaining the most use from his blood.

And yet, no matter how miniscule it may seem, Kvasir still lives on in his universe there too, in poets and songwriters and storytellers- somehow, The Mechanisms carry a piece of him in their travels ever since his death and Yddrasil's fall, just as you and I may have his blood in our veins.

[cancerian-woman]

If you'd been at the writing helm, what kind of non vampire bonding activities would you have had Klaus and Marcel participate in?

Marcel and Elijah?

Marcel and Kol?

this is fun! I love fun questions!

Klaus/Marcel: Painting/sculpting. Klaus interest in Marcel peaked from seeing Marcel fight back. Show us Klaus teaching Marcel how to protect himself. Hunting or camping trips. I would’ve included a scene of Marcel singing with Klaus. Going off canon Marcel tells Hope to close her eyes and sing during s4 which is something we learn Klaus told/taught him. Let us see Klaus singing with his son.

Elijah/Marcel: Teaching Marcel Viking culture because Mikael hated Klaus I think Elijah would have the better hands on experience here. Ex: Marcel learning how to read and write through Old Norse. Let us see Elijah teaching Marcel how to box. I would’ve loved to see more of Elijah teaching Marcel instruments.

Kol/Marcel: Ever since Kol beat Damon ass with the bat. I’ve had this headcanon that Kol loves sports. Baseball, track & field, soccer etc. anything that really keeps his…undead blood pumping. Instead of Kol trying to traumatize him perhaps they do pranks around the house with magical potions since Kol can’t do magic!

Thank you for the ask! 💜💜