#and for always being there to support my love of a dane

[thenameswinterfics]

BOUND TO YOU

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Succubus!Reader Settings: Seven Kings Must Die Summary: Since becoming the new lord of Dunholm, Sihtric has ruled alone, with no woman at his side to call "wife". Things begin to change when you begin to appear in his dreams, a human so perfect that he believes he has finally found the one, a blessing from the gods. Little does he know that behind your appearance lies a devil in disguise. Word Count: 4,6 K Warnings: SMUT, mention of death, human/monster romance, monsterfucking, oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v sex. A/N: This is for my beautiful woman @sihtricfedaraaahvicius: happy birthday again my beloved, I really really hope you have a wonderful day and you enjoyed yourself. I hope you enjoy this as well, in case you can cancel me from your existence ahahaha. This story is not outlined, so if you find some confusing and rushing parts, I deeply apologise. Double apologise because this is my first time writing this kind of creature, I hope I have done them justice. A special thanks to @foxyanon for the title and to her and @zaldritzosrose for the brainstorm, the beta reading and for having a lot of patience with me.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

Sihtric crossed the courtyard, one hand rubbing the bridge of his nose as he continued to fight fatigue. His eyes darted around, greeting with an absent nod of his head a few of his men who crossed his path, sighing nervously at the cold air that hit his face, making him feel more tired than relieved. 

Destiny had worked with him in a singular way, and if many years ago it made him leave his birthplace as Sihtric Kjartansson, the bastard son of Kjartan the Cruel, it allowed him to return as Sihtric of Dunholm, a man forged in blood and battle, and who stepped up to rule a fortress that he had always seen through the eyes of a slave, never a leader. 

Years had passed since Uhtred claimed his birthright over Bebbanburg, and with what little interest he had in ruling Dunholm, Sihtric became its new Jarl, without ever breaking the oath he had made to his friend and lord. And so he worked hard to make his own legacy, trying to obscure the trail of cruelty and violence his father left behind. 

All this time he had ruled Dunholm alone, without a woman at his side to support and guide him, or even to share a warm meal and a bed in his private moments. Long gone were the days when he spent all his silver seeking the company of women, longing for the love he had never received in his life: his naivety even led him to fall in love with a whore he paid all his silver for, leaving him with empty pockets and a broken heart. With the battles he had to face over the years, Sihtric never found the opportunity to bind himself to another woman.

Until you started to appear in his dreams at night. 

At first you were just a glimpse, a soft and soothing whisper that made his heart flutter in his chest, your laughter a melody carried on the wind. Each night his dreams became more vivid, and the mysterious silhouette transformed into a woman of disarming beauty, a being so perfect that she was forged by the gods. Sihtric was fascinated by you: he saw the way you carried yourself with your elegance, the way your long hair danced softly in the wind. He saw your eyes, two bright pools that sparkled with an irresistible glimpse of mischief. And he saw your smile. Oh, your beautiful smile. So warm and inviting that it relieved him of all fatigue, spreading a pleasant warmth in his chest and making his head spin with your unmistakable scent. 

Every night Sihtric would reach for your hand and lean for your touch, wanting to feel the warmth of your body as close to his. But the morning would always come, and the Dane would wake up to the reality that you were not at his side, and with an unbearable void in his heart. 

But the gods seemed to smile at him, and when Sihtric raised his eyes to see a familiar silhouette, he could hardly believe his eyes. It was as if one of Thor's lightning bolts had struck him, rendering him speechless for a moment. Sihtric's mismatched eyes blinked rapidly, trying to reconcile the image before him with the memories of the dreams that haunted him every night. 

For the first time, here you were, made of nothing but flesh and bone. He recognised the outline of your face, the way your eyes held that sparkle of mischief even as your lips curved in that warm smile that clouded his thoughts, that same intoxicating scent that made the warmth in his chest rise again and spread to his stomach. The Lord of Dunholm shook his head at first, thinking that either fatigue or Loki himself was playing with his mind. But the more he rubbed his eyes, the clearer his vision became, and you were still there, wandering about the courtyard of the fortress. 

As Sihtric gathered his courage and began to walk towards you, he was interrupted by one of his soldiers, who called him to attend to urgent matters within the fortress. Though he longed for your presence, he was still a man bound to his duties as leader, and he accepted the soldier's help by swallowing the bitter pill and disappearing behind the massive doors of the great hall. His mind was still on you, thinking that the gods had finally blessed him by sending you on his path.

Little did he know that beneath this divine appearance, there was a devil in disguise.

You arrived in Dunholm a few weeks ago, drawn by a life force so strong you could hardly ignore it. As soon as you stepped through the gates, your eyes scanned every hidden corner, licking your lips eagerly as you searched for your next prey, your body quivering with anticipation.

It was not the first time you had hunted humans: the young warriors were your favourite prey because of their high energy and strength. Draining the life force from their souls was nothing more than a sweet banquet for your evil essence, an elixir that fuelled your dark power and increased your demonic impulses.

You began by playing with their dreams, first appearing as a dark figure with a melodious voice, before revealing yourself as the most ethereal creature in the mortal world. And when you felt they were ready to receive you, you would appear before them, showing your graceful appearance and wearing the most attractive clothes. 

You learned over the years that men were easier to bend to your will; your sweet smile and the fluttering of your eyelashes attracted them like a mirror to the larks. And only when they had let down their defences would you strike, your lips capturing them in a kiss that drained the essence from their souls, their life force flowing into you like an exhilarating rush of adrenaline. As their body fell to their eternal rest, your succubus nature revealed itself in all its dark power, seeking the next prey to hunt. 

While at first the souls of young warriors were enough to satisfy your needs, your hunts became less and less satisfying, and you soon began to demand a strong life force to claim. You began to travel across England, intensifying your activities from Wessex to Mercia, from Danelaw to East Anglia, but nothing seemed to tame the beast growing inside you. And it was when you crossed the borders of Northumbria that you felt a strong and vibrant aura calling to you, and soon you found yourself living in disguise among the men of Dunholm.

There you met Sihtric, the fascinating Jarl of Dunholm, who carried himself with dignity. He was a man far too old compared to the young ones you were used to hunting, but it was his long experience on the battlefield that attracted you most, the power of his vitality telling you how much blood flowed from his hands and the wounds he had suffered. It was an irresistible force that drew you to him like an invisible string. You had to dominate him.

And so you worked like your former prey, appearing in his dreams, feeding his insatiable desire to have someone to call his wife and love to the end of his days. When your trap bore its fruit, you began to show yourself more, wandering about like a common and innocent woman. And you knew that every time you crossed the courtyards, his eyes yearned for you from afar, and a small grin formed on your face.

Sihtric would be yours, no matter what the cost.

The night was filled with a vibrant atmosphere, the dim lights of the houses illuminating the streets in warm colours that mingled with the pallor of the moonlight. Several warriors gathered outside to share mugs of ale and stories of their days, their chatter and loud laughter the only sounds of the night, along with the song of some night bird. Other soldiers were stationed on the palisades of the fortress, making sure no surprise attacks could be launched at night.

You slipped outside, out of a small door on the east wall usually used by the servants. You quietly followed the small stream until you reached a small pond not far from Dunholm, but isolated enough to give you some peace.

Normally, you would join the chaos outside, as it is one of the easiest places to find a prey, take it away from the group, work it and seduce it as you please. But tonight you didn't find yourself enjoying the noisy company of the soldiers, or company in general. You had not absorbed any life force for days, the weak auras of the young men's souls could hardly satisfy the great hunger that was growing within you, forcing you to get away from crowded places: you did not want to hunt multiple prey in the night and cause a terrible mess, preferring to work methodically and continue to keep your identity hidden. In the end, it was just you and your inner beast, desperately asking you to be fed with some powerful human elixir. 

“A gracious lady like you should not be walking around alone at this time of night,” was a deep, male voice that brought you back to reality, sensing a life force so strong as to make your head spin and your core trembling in anticipation. 

And as you turned, you recognised the voice as that of Sihtric, the Lord approaching you cautiously so as not to frighten you. You could see the moonlight illuminating his features, its pale rays gently caressing his sharp features and highlighting the scars on his forehead and cheekbones. It was indeed a charming man, his hair half shaved, half combed into plaits that revealed a tattoo that started at the side of his head and reached down to his neck. But it was his eyes that struck you most: two beautiful bicoloured irises, barely covered by his dilated pupils, looking at you with a gaze full of love and anticipation. 

“This gracious lady can defend herself against the pitfalls of the night,” you retorted back, feigning offence at his words, which were welcomed with Sihtric’s loud chuckle. "I have no desire for protection,” you continued, noticing his fingers gripping the hilt of his swords, his body tensing in alarm. 

Your words make Sihtric calm down, his body relaxed and the grip on his sword became weak. “If it is not protection what you seek, then allow me to keep you company,” the Dane politely asked you, and you took this as an opportunity to finally feed your unsatisfied hunger: never had a prey voluntarily approached you. 

“It would be an honour to spend this peaceful night with you, Lord,” you replied in a soft and soothing voice, the same tone you used in his dreams. Your voice was music to his ears and Sihtric swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling his body heat up and his cheeks turn red at your words, the lust growing inside him.

And the two of you sat by the pond, watching the moon cast a beautiful play of light on the surface of the water. There was silence at first, the air filled with a thin layer of intimacy, then a brief pause in conversation as you became accustomed to each other's presence. You told Sihtric a half-truth, concealing your true identity and introducing yourself as a traveller who had travelled far and found her next resting place in Dunholm before continuing her journey. Sihtric told you his story, of how he had escaped his father's cruelty to serve a true lord, of the endless battles, from the simplest to the most violent, that he had fought to help Uhtred reclaim Bebbanburg, of how he had become the new lord of Dunholm, ruling over a land that knew nothing but cruelty and fear. He also told you how he struggled every day with his loneliness, and how not even the company of his friends could fill that void. 

“But then I saw you in my dreams,” Sihtric continued, closing the remaining distance between you. There was a fire in his eyes, a burning desire that could tame the fiercest of the beasts and the darkest of the creatures. A chill ran down your spine, and for the very first time you felt like the prey you hunted all your life. “And I could not believe that such a perfect creature could have been created by the gods,”

You held your breath, your head spinning, for many reasons: his strong, vital strength so close to you, an inviting, tantalising temptation; his gaze, dark with desire, looking at you as if he were peering into your soul; his deep, warm voice echoing in the night, a velvet murmur that hid such a powerful force to alter your senses and awaken your hidden desires. Sihtric was nothing like the ordinary men you had seduced and drained in the past: he was an experienced warrior and a handsome man, and a great challenge that stimulated you.

Without your spirit faltering at his declaration, you raised your hand, one of your fingers tracing the contour of his throat and Adam's apple until you forced his chin up. 

“I did not think you had such a strong devotion to your gods,” you replied with a smirk, your eyes dark as well. “But I am afraid I must warn you: I am anything but what you think I am, Lord,” your voice toned down, wrapping your arms around his neck and drawing him close. 

Your foreheads almost touched, your scent inviting enough to cloud Sihtric's mind, the Lord of Dunholm confused but not frightened: part of him would not believe your words, but the other part wanted nothing more than to make you his, craving your touch and the way your bodies would melt together.

"No witch is a product of the gods, for you have bewitched me," he whispered, tensing slightly as the word witch escaped his lips. He leaned closer again, the temptation to taste your lips strong, but you pushed him away slightly, shaking your head with a grin. 

"I am more than a mere witch, my lord," you replied boldly, your hands intertwining in an intricate embrace, his tattooed, calloused fingers meeting the smoothness of your skin. "I am a superior being, the darkness itself. Nothing a human can control," you continued, squeezing his hand in a tight vice. The conviction in your voice soon faltered when you felt his lips brushing against your wrist, kissing your veins with a tenderness that made you feel weak. 

"Then tell me who you are," Sihtric murmured against your flesh, his lips trailing down to your forearm. "Tell me your name." 

You sneered, shaking your head as you looked at him with your piercing gaze. "My name has power, and you are not yet worthy to bear it. But I am generous today and will allow you to call me whatever you wish."

With slow, fluid movements, Sihtric's lips shook your entire arm, reached for your shoulder and nibbled gently. Then he lifted his head, your lips almost touching. 

"Then allow me to call you mine," he whispered huskily, closing the distance between you with a deep, passionate kiss.

The night air warmed with a burning heat and unspoken desire, the sound of your muffled moans and gasping breaths echoing with the songs of the owls. Your lips met again and again in fierce kisses, your tongues dancing together as you swallowed each other's moans, your hands exploring your clothed bodies. Sihtric’s hands firmly held your back, pulling you close as his mouth claimed you again, a glimpse of his life force flowing in your veins.

All rational logic gave way to the most animal thoughts, an aura of lust enveloping you as a battle of possession took place between you: the two of you teasing each other, Sihtric rubbing your pulsing and sensitive spot as the palm of your hand brushed against his arousal, your touch so seductive it made him growl in your mouth. 

Sihtric arched his head back as you took him in your mouth, your head resting between his legs as you playfully teased the tip of his length, swallowing the salty taste of the pre-cum before wrapping your lips completely around his thickness, your head bobbing up so you could take all of him. He rolled his eyes and nibbled at his lower lips as you began your slow pace, ignoring the firm grip he had on your head, a few strands of hair held in place by his fist. Enjoying your sweet torture at first, his impatience grew and forced him to act, his loud moans turning to ragged breaths and heavy grunts as he began to move his hips in a desperate motion, lust destroying any resistance and ignoring the trembling of his legs. 

He soon came, allowing you to take all he had to give. As you released him, Sihtric felt his head spin, a sudden dizziness hit him as he tried to sit down on the grass, his body suddenly heavy and drained of energy. His eyes closed quickly as he rested his head on your shoulder, falling into a deep sleep as you tended to him. 

You absently scratched his head, licking your lips as you savoured the taste of his life energy feeding your primal hunger. However, the way he made you feel, how he boldly challenged your dark nature and how well he satisfied your lustful desires made you spare him. For how long you craved for his life to amplify your powers, you could not ignore the way he made your heart feel, the thump so ferocious you thought it could escape from your rib cage. 

With the thump of your heart you could not ignore, you leaned your head and gently kissed his forehead, watching him sleeping peacefully in your arms while the spark of the attraction had ignited, destined to burn brightly. 

It was supposed to be an easy hunt, to have him at your mercy. You were supposed to weaken him with your charm and your aura, kiss him and drain him of his life force, and then resume your hunt, your hunger sated, eager to feast on your next victim. 

But in truth it was Sihtric who tamed you: from the first moment you allowed him to call you his, to the way your head turned with each of his kisses, the touch of his calloused hands so diabolically seductive, the ghost of his lips still trailing across your body. No man had ever accepted you with such devotion, nor had you ever allowed him to go beyond the boundaries of a simple brush of your lips. 

But the truth was that you liked his attentions: you loved how Sihtric was a caring and attentive partner, the way he treated you made you forget you were born as a demonic creature. He ignored the trail of victims you left behind in the past, as well as your urge to quench your hunger and have a taste of his strong life force: he would be willing to sacrifice his own life to show you how strong his love was for you. 

You allowed Sihtric to be tempted by the devil, but in return you burned yourself in the flames of his heart. Sparing his life was your greatest act of love, not a mere act of mercy, as you always told yourself.

The days passed and your secret meetings continued after that night at the pond, each time finding a secluded spot when you both craved privacy. The flames of pleasure engulfed you each night, bruising kisses and grabs mixed with strangled moans and high-pitched whimpers as you fucked each other into oblivion, both of you leaving marks on your bodies and pulling at each other's hair. And each time the two of you came in unison, Sihtric's head would collapse in your lap as he allowed you to feed on his life force every time you needed to, as you accepted his physical act of loyalty to you, to finally be loved for who you really were and not hated for being a creature from hell. 

The more time you spent together, the stronger your bond became, an invisible thread that drew you closer together: a bond forged by the forces of the underworld, a dark twist of fate that led a human and a succubus to love each other, a sinister tapestry that defied the logic of fate. 

And the strength of your bond reached its peak when Sihtric, on a cold winter's night in his room, enjoyed your company before he was forced to leave you behind. A message had come from Bebbanburg and he was to rejoin Uhtred and Finan, summoned to resolve urgent matters. He had heard that King Edward’s rule was soon to be faltered, but never could tell that things would escalate so quickly. 

You both lay down in his bed, your hands exploring each other’s curves while your lips met again in a head-spinning kiss, none of you seemed to want to say goodbye to the other. For how long you refused to admit yourself, your heart ached at the feeling of spending your days without Sihtric at your side, and the thought you could lose him on the battlefield was a death sentence even worse than spending your eternal afterlife wrapped in the flames of Hell.   

"Let me come with you," you protested weakly as his lips pressed against yours, his bare arms holding you close as he feared you might escape his embrace. You had become extremely needy of his touch, your defences so low you could hardly recognise yourself. 

“No,” was his firm reply, as he kissed the contour of your lips, trailing down to your jaw and your neck. “This is not a war I will ask you to fight on my behalf,”

He then gently pushed you down, your back resting on the furs. “I will always find a way to come back to you,”

His lips trailed down again on your neck, his touch as light as a feather as his lips kept brushing on your skin, an attempt to cool your anger and to fill your disappointment. But this time you were not fooled by his actions, and you pushed him back with firmness.

“Are you really casting me aside, Sihtric?” you hissed, pushing him back again as you felt him approaching, a regretful expression painted on his face. “You cannot me leave me behind, not after the bond we built-“

“A bond I do not intend to break because I have answered the call of the lord I’m still serving,” Sihtric interrupted you with an authoritative tone, pushing you back on bed and caging you with his body. He could see the tears forming in your eyes, a sight that breaks his heart. Never had he seen you so vulnerable, nor had you ever allowed yourself to lower your defences. 

“I swear to you, on my Thor’s hammer, that I will do everything I am called to do to survive and to return to your arms,” the Dane spoke with a low and soft voice, lowering his head so he could kiss your forehead. “For now, let me take care of you for tonight, my devil lady,” 

With a faint nod of your head, you let him close the distance, sealing with a bittersweet kiss, a soft touch that soon became a desperate embrace of two souls forced to separate for a time you both could not quantify. And for the very first time you allowed yourself to raise down your barriers, crying in his arms as he squeezed you, his mouth swallowing all your faint sobs escaping from your throat. 

It was no longer a stay at his side for his life force, despite the fact that your demonic nature would yearn with all his being. You fell in love with everything about him: for the way he looked in his eyes, for the way he touched and loved you, mostly risking his own life to tame your demonic impulses: a respect and delicacy you would never find in another man, should you ever start another hunt. 

And with the same delicacy he took you that night, your lips exploring every nook and cranny of your body, whispering sweet words and praising you softly, his tongue crossing your throat as he found his way to your breast, teasing you with his hands and mouth, pinching and sucking your hardening nipples. Soon, your sobs turned into sharp breaths and moans, trembling at how good he made you feel. 

His hand slipped down to your stomach, his thick fingers rubbing down on your pulsing core, already wet with anticipation. A loud gasp escaped your lips as you felt one of his fingers inside you, your eyes rolling back at the slow thrust of his hand, fucking you with a steady pace. Sihtric lips trailed over your neck, kissing and nibbling as he quickened the pace, his self control abandoning him completely once he felt how good your walls were clenching on his finger.

“Look at you, my sweet devil is already so tight for me,” Sihtric murmured against your lips, swallowing another loud moan with an eager kiss. “I cannot wait to see how tight you will be around my cock,” 

You muttered nonsense words, pleasure engulfing your mind as you felt your head light as well as your body, your eyes shut from the pleasure you were receiving. You felt as if your own life force was abandoning you, letting you weaken and trembling.

You whined as you felt Sihtric’s finger slowly pulling out you, frustration rising as you well ready to reach the peak of your climax. When you opened your eyes you saw Sihtric holding your hip with one hand, the other hand giving himself a few strokes on his cock, throbbing with anticipation. He entered inside you with a swift motion, an inhuman grunt escaped his throat at how deliciously tight you were around his length. He set up a rough pace, fucking you restlessly as he could not control himself anymore. Whimpers and groans were the only audible things in the room, both of you teasing each other with kisses and nibbles, you often pulling on Sihtric’s wild curls, forcing him to expose his throat and biting it eagerly, leaving visible marks on his fair skin. 

The climax between you quickly raised as you both simultaneously were reaching your peaks, and his grip on your hips became rougher.

“Yes, come for me, my devil queen,” the Dane praised you with a low groan, loving how good was ravaging, how vulnerable you were under his control. “I want you to hear you shout my name while I fill you up,”

“Sihtric,” you whispered between loud moans, and while chanting his name over and over you both reach your peak, him spilling inside you while you coming over his thick length, a blissful feeling hit both of you as you both collapsed on your bed, his strong arms wrapping you as he left soft kisses on your temple. 

And it was when he fell asleep several minutes after that your demonic form showed up, your slender fingers rubbing over his curls as you watched your lover one last time before leaving you for war.

You both know, deep in your heart, that neither death cannot break your bond. 

Because he was bound to you, and you were bound to him. 

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it!

Taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm @sihtricsafin @arcielee

[fic-heaven]

Nutella Doughnut (Soap x Witty! Reader)

🐥Short af. If this goes well I'll make a second part.

⚠️a very Scottish Soap

.

"You are smokin' sexy, lass..." Soap said casually.

You were smoking, leaning on your car's side near the wheel, arm perched around Gaz's shoulder who, after hearing Soap's comment, chuckled lowly before kissing your cheek in a quick goodbye to let his brother in arms work his magic wooing you. You laughed at Johnny's boldness after waving Gaz goodbye.

"Keep talkin'. I love when you bathe me in flattery." You lean back, one elbow supported your stance as you lifted the cigar back to your lips, puffed some smoke and continued. "But don't make it too corny, or the next person leavin' will be me."

"Naw, don't say that. Gaz is jus' jealous of my skills, that's why he threw the smoke bomb." Johnny winks. "B'sides I know you love it when a' get corny."

"Hmm, you caught me there. Maybe Gaz thinks that if he stays here too long he'd end up falling for you."

Soap laughed a bit walking to your side resting his back right against the driver's door with both hands on his pockets. His grey eyes shot your way in a teasing side glance that made you walk up closer to him facing his profile with a giddy little smile that made Soap chuckle once more, you mirrored the chuckle pinching the cigar out of your mouth. You two looked like two teenagers in love and frankly you didn't care, because that's how Johnny always made you feel and you'd die before you try having this connection with anyone else.

There was some silence then as you two stared to one another, Soap repositions his stance to fully face you with this relaxed expression, like he was in bliss just by sharing a quiet moment with you. How uncharacteristic of the loudmouth Scottie. You two are standing closer than before playing oblivious of the growing tension as you begun bantering lowly about anything and everything. The night was at your favor, gracing your ears with little sounds, amongst them the crickets and the muffled music from inside the bar where Gaz had rejoined his captain and lieutenant and surely was gossiping about the two missing sargents. The weather was fair, and no one crossed the street you two were in, granting you of a perfect atmosphere. You wouldn't mind your first kiss being here, in front of your usual pub sharing the taste of alcohol and tobacco.

"What was that about me being smokin' hot?" You purred.

"Smokin' sexy." Soap quickly corrects feigning offense.

"Oh, pardon me."

Johnny just smiles at you, a bit shy this time as if he was sharing your same thoughts, his silver eyes eat every detail of your face imprinting you on his mind, he reaches a hand out of his pocket to your face and for a moment you slightly close your eyes basking on the feeling of his rough fingers delicately brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear to later nuzzle your cheek, then, he unexpectedly snatches your cigar straight from your lips. The sargent grants you a show giving a small lick to the white butt before putting it on his lips, an indirect kiss. Your jaw drops letting out a baffled crackle, Soap wiggles his brows with your cig between his lips before he responds your previous question.

"Was jus' repeating what Price said before. Tho' he was drunk as a Dane, he could have been referring to tha' pint he was holding, that fucken' weapon."

Price?

"Y' think our captain has the hots for me?" You smirk. "Does that mean you've got competition?"

Soap smirks "Nah, I know i ain' got no one standing between me n' you." His confidence made you smile softly successfully distracting you from the fact that Price may feel somehow attracted to you.

Your face will be aching by the end of the night with how much Soap makes you smile, and you'd embrace the ache and seek for more anytime.

With the years, you noticed a huge change in the way Soap spoke to you. Because every time you two bantered up for long he'd eventually recover his Scottish accent to a point where the first few times you spoke after you formally met it was hard to get what he said, but the flow of time and the book of Scottish slangs that Johnny gifted for your birthday along with many visits to your bunk bed every day, made you an expert Soap-ologist. You knew when he was sad, mad, hungry or lost in thought, and most importantly you understood his hard accent. Thanks to this you were often being used by Ghost as a translator when you three were together. You felt flattered that Johnny was so comfortable with you that he graced you with his Scottish accent.

The moment Soap had placed the half-finished cig back on your mouth swiftly and without a warning your lashes fluttered rapidly breaking from your thoughts trying to focus on his current rambling.

"-Jus' got five drinks for y'guys before comin' here at the drive thru n' that guy asked 'do ye want a cupholder?' and a' go 'why obviously, do ya foken' reprobate I'm no a fucking octopus, y'dick head' " He was referring to a few hours ago when he offered to have lunch together before going to the bar and drink yourselves silly. But of course, only Price ended up getting so wasted all of you decided to slow down as not to encourage him to keep drinking. But going bar after bar you couldn't keep watch on Price forever, the weight of his last divorce always took a tool on the poor man around these dates.

"Wait! Is that why you've got that giant stain on your fancy shirt?" You laughed pointing a manicured nail to a big stain in Soap's blue shirt right underneath his left pectoral that he was clearly trying to hide with his black and white varsity jacket. Soap roughly took your hand and directed it to his mouth as if he was going to bite your finger off, you two crackled in unison as you struggled to tug it out of his grip.

"Fuuuck! When did ya notice it!?" He asked pulling your body forwards making you bump against his toned chest. The smell of his cologne and the hint of aftershave invaded your senses but you managed to speak even if your brain felt like it was melting.

"You've got yer jacket wide open! And you are like a sardine moving here and there, it's obvious the stain would peek from its hidden spot at some point, Johnny."

Soap groaned in defeat throwing his arms around your form caging you, your lips pursed with your cig still hanging limply in between them until you spat it out to the side and stomped on it with the heel of your boot, your eyes were firmly fixed on Soap's. You two went quiet then, your hands were occupied massaging his soft sides as he didn't leave them much liberty of movement with the way his heavy arms trapped your body in a strong embrace. You slowly planted your forehead on Johnny's clavicle, he moved his head a little closer inhaling your shampoo before he planted a short peck near your hairline.

"You comfy there, lil' lizard?" He smirked amused.

"Lizard!?" You giggle on his neck, Soap almost shivered at the feeling of your mouth near his sensitive skin. "That the best nickname you can come up with?"

Soap hums delighted by this question "Actually, y'know how I usually call ya?" You tilted your head up to look at his eyes resting your chin to his chest.

"A secret nickname. Care to share?"

"Doughnut'." He blurts.

You grinned, your brows raising surprised and enamoured by such a silly name "Oh! What kind of doughnut am i?" You said following the joke.

"I'll let ya choose." Johnny half-whispers looking down at you, grey eyes filled with amusement at this stupid conversation.

Your eyes look to the side still not moving your chin from his chest, biting at the tip of your tongue in thought. "How 'bout Nutella?"

He hums and nods before you continue as if you hadn't notice his agreement. His face was so close you wanted to kiss him. You wanted him to taste you. "Hmm... Do ya have any nut allergies?" You smirked praying that this final joke would earn you the kiss you yearn. But of course, Soap being Soap, he responds with a:

"Aye, love. I'm planning suicide by donut!" He barked out a laugh.

Your loud laughter filled the air as you abruptly broke out of his embrace only to smack his chest playfully with the back of your right hand while you covered your laughing mouth with your left one. Soap was marveled at the sight land the melody of your voice aughing along, his eyes crescent moons that reflected the blue neon light of the bar's sign. He looked so handsome.

Johnny's hands were on you as soon as he felt you were moving too far from him. But instead of taking your hands or your waist they went to squeeze your face until your lips were peeking out of your mushed cheeks while you were still grinning, prolonging your sweet laughter. The Scott promised himself right then and there that he'd be the only one able to make you laugh like this. He'd be the only one who'd get to hear your uncontrolled laughter, to witness your face lit at his stupidity, to kiss those beautiful lips he's dying to taste.

He was thinking too loud, so loud that he didn't realize you had gone quiet looking up at him mirroring his look of awe, his big hands no longer squeezed the soft plush of your cheeks, they were holding you lovingly. You lean to his touch with a delighted hum as your hands cup his in your face and Soap swore he would faint at the sight.

"How can you be so fuckin' beautiful...? It should be a crime to look the way you do..." He whispers, heavy accent present, the grey in his eyes melted in a sea of black, his pupils dilated swallowing the image before him.

"Johnny..." Your lips whisper sensually.

"Johnny." Someone loudly calls right behind you.

Soap let's out a high pitch scream that could have very well broken the sound barrier, his hands shooting back from your face at the fright he got thanks to his giant and quiet Lieutenant standing behind you looking at the two of you like one would to dog shit sitting on their path. Your ears bled but you laughed with so much force at his reaction you threw your body forwards to Johnny's right side and accidentally hit your forehead against your car's side mirror.

"Pull up yer pants, you two. You'll have plenty of time ta' fuck around when we get back, for now we gotta go grab dinner." Ghost sighs crossing his arms as Gaz approached with a very drunk Price loudly singing 'Country Roads' until he heard what Ghost said, then he begun complaining about his lack of hunger.

"At two in tha' morning? Is there any place open at this time?" You said, Soap was cooing at you gently massaging your aching forehead with his thumb inspecting the damage ignoring your quiet "I'm fine, no worries, I've taken worse."

Price then shagged forwards falling literally to your arms, you gripped your captain like vice so he wouldn't eat the concrete. "M' house..." He managed to grunt out.

Soap lift a brow at this. "Watch out, old man... Yer drunk but don't play stupid." The idea of Price openly inviting you to his house irked something ugly within Soap until Price gave him this confused glare as he explained he had dinner ready at his place. For ALL of you. Soap was instantly relived.

A little later, you drove the crew to Price's block. Or more like, his auntie's. When your captain divorced his second wife (who lasted a year and a half married to him until she unexpectedly ran off with the next economically stable guy she found.) he moved with his aunt to her big apartment, luckily she was out of town visiting other relatives of hers, so you all had the house for yourselves.

A big saint Bernard lazily greeted Price the moment he managed to open the door letting all of you in, Gaz instantly fell to his knees amazed by the beauty of Price's pet. "Name's Lucy... Watch yer boots, she loves to drool on 'em." Soap was about to go in next until he saw the giant dog and like a gentleman, he offered you to go fist. You knew your Johnny well, his phobia of dogs ever present, so you guided Lucy out of the way with Gaz following after her like a lost puppy. It seems they all had forgotten Soap's phobia after seeing the Scott bravely face any danger your tedious job threw your way.

You all feasted upon the takeout Price had bought hours back before your little outing. The old man planned ahead, it seemed. A thousand small containers of asian food freshly microwaved decorated the living room's table as all of you ate sharing stories and laughing at the new recruits' gossip Gaz managed to overhear. You loved every second Johnny laughed, his bubbly laughter making him bump shoulders with you constantly until you threw your arm around him pressing your bodies together, his big hand landed on your thigh in response. It was hard to eat like this but it didn't bother you one bit as long as you could keep touching Johnny. He thought the exact same thing.

You two didn't miss the looks shared between Ghost and Gaz. But you did miss Price's proud, drunken smile. He was delighted seeing how close the two of you had gotten over the years, he couldn't help but raise up his water glass (because you all forbid him from drinking one more drop of alcohol).

"To you two. I dedicate this... H2O to you, may your hearts entwine stronger than my ex-wife's legs around that fokin' lawyer she met on Facebook. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" All of you chanted.

You two smiled dumbly to one another swallowing your respective sodas in one gulp as if it was Champaign. Was Price giving you his blessings?

Soap thought the same giving you a soft look hiding his big dumb smile behind the rim of his glass. He leaned his face your way resting his cheek against yours with a sigh nodding Gaz to continue sharing his succulent gossip. Your hands entwined underneath the table, your hearts beating fast.

After dinner, you'll ask Soap if he truly wants to taste your doughnut.

[ladyinred2248]

King of the North, Part 9

Warnings: Mature. Minors DNI. Violent themes. Angsty fer sure.

Finan couldn’t stop his heart from racing as they were all led through the eerily familiar corridors of the palace. All these years later… everyone in his family was gone. His parents had passed from a combination of older age and the sickness, possibly the same one that had claimed his former wife. Of course, Conall had died brutally by his hand. Ronan and Cinaed were the only one’s left, all alone now… in a stoned cage.

Ronan led them to the great hall, asking that they all gather around the long, ornate table for discussion. Sihtric didn’t hesitate to sit down first and take a sip of wine that had already been poured into a goblet, chasing it down with a piece of bread. Ronan chuckled at the young Dane’s eagerness.

“All of ya, please sit. We have plenty of food and wine. I can imagine it was a very long journey.”

Uhtred nodded, taking a seat on Ronan’s left side while Finan took a seat on the right of him. Finan was very obviously perturbed, dark circles and redness evident around his eyes as he slowly gazed around the hall. Uhtred simply couldn’t imagine how this felt for him. To be back in the palace of his youth, the place that held so many dark memories. It might as well have been a crypt, and the dead were walking aimlessly through the halls.

Ronan’s voice startled Uhtred from his thoughts.

“Lord Uhtred, have ya heard anythin’ of my uncle Conall’s journey South? He was expected to return many moons ago, with his betrothed. Is that why you are here?”

Uhtred shared a look with Finan, hesitating to answer. He paused to allow Finan to explain it for himself, and he was right to stay silent as Finan spoke up solemnly.

“We were fated to find each other once again, it seems. The betrothed he was promised by the Scots was the woman I sought to marry. I…had to fight for her.”

Ronan’s eyes widened, then drifted away in contemplation, until he nodded insistently. “Go on.”

“She is King Constantin’s daughter. I met her in Wessex, and I have protected her with every part of my being ever since.”

“She is his woman,” Uhtred interrupted him with a smirk.

Finan showed a semblance of a smile. “When Conall realized that the Princess desired me and that destiny had brought us together once again, he ordered one of his champions to kill me, to put me on trial for my previous crimes. When I beat the champion, Conall sought to kill me himself, but he was no match... He has never been a warrior. I had to seek vengeance, Ronan, for all he had done to me. I… I’m sorry.”

Ronan took a deep breath and brought his hand to his face, covering his eyes. Finan held his breath.

“Thank God it is you here to tell me this tale, and not Conall.”

Uhtred suddenly smiled at Finan, who was still nervously anticipating Ronan’s every response. The table was silent until the young prince spoke again.

“…You will resume yer royal title, Father? As rightful King?”

Finan sighed, taking a generous sip of wine as Uhtred chuckled.

“Well, your Grace,” Uhtred spoke, “There is much more to this story, I fear. It’s going to be a long night.”

Uhtred, Finan, and the others told Ronan the many details regarding the events of the past year, including the strife Finan experienced with King Alfred, and his son was endlessly intrigued. Finan loved just how supportive and enthralled he was, as if he was on the edge of his seat the whole time.

“They put a knife to the priest’s throat?!” Ronan asked enthusiastically.

“Yes, in the church of all places,” Finan answered, “…And they took her from me, once again. To use her, for their alliance.”

Ronan shook his head. “Damn Scots. Always seekin’ control.”

Finan chuckled at that.

“I can’t believe Alfred of Wessex is so… promiscuous?”

It was Uhtred’s turn to laugh then. Ronan chuckled along with them, before rubbing his face with his hands, coming up and down the very faint stubble of his cheeks, not yet strong enough to be a beard.

The table grew silent, all eyes landing on the young prince. Ronan glanced around the table, already knowing what would be asked of him next. Finan nodded to him, and Ronan took a deep breath.

“You must be the one to perform the coronation,” Ronan said quietly to Finan.

Finan pinched his lips together. He knew what he was asking of his son, and it had been the perfect idea until he was faced with it. Until his son was faced with the same burden he sought to escape from so many years ago.

Finan searched his son’s dark eyes and spoke to him softly. “Is this what ya want?”

Ronan gave Finan an adamant gaze, then a firm nod. “My first act as King will be to send my men to Scotland. I will ride alongside them. The Scots present an imminent threat to our Kingdom, and so we will march as soon as I am made King,” Ronan smiled at Finan. “Your honor shall be restored.”

Finan was proud to hear his son speak with such conviction. Uhtred and Sihtric grinned, eager to save Finan’s beloved and restore their brother and his heir to greatness. Osferth looked worried, giving the young prince a nervous, crooked smile.

“And why would we trouble ourselves with preserving the honor of a criminal?”

A voice had spoken from a far doorway. A young man was leaning against it with his arms crossed and a smug look on his face. Ronan stood from the table then.

“Eh, Lords…this is my brother, Cinaed.”

Finan looked on in wonderment as the younger teenager trudged forward, eyeing all of them up with distaste and contempt as he spat his words.

“You bring Danes to sit in our Great Hall?”

“They are King Alfred’s men.”

“And why would the weak King of Wessex send his men to our home?”

Ronan sighed, his brother’s words already stirring an annoyance within him.

“Conall is dead.”

The sudden argument between the brothers ceased with those words, and Cinaed was looking utterly shocked as he took a hand to lay across his stomach.

Finan stood from the table then, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword as he spoke across the table to his younger son.

“Cinaed... I am Finan, Conall’s brother.”

Cinaed chuckled at Finan’s words.

“I know who you are. A man of treason, supposedly killed by my father. Though now I can see that is not the truth.”

Finan pressed on despite the fact that his hands were trembling.

“I was sold into slavery for my crimes. It might as well have been death. But the truth that you know is not my truth.”

Cinaed’s eyes glistened as he looked at Finan with frustration and anger. Ronan excused himself from the table, taking his brother by the arm and out of the great hall hurriedly.

Ronan had been so pleasant and welcoming that Uhtred and the others had forgotten all about the second child. He looked to Finan, who looked morosely defeated as he took his seat once again at the table and downed another cup of wine in one motion.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of.” Uhtred insisted quietly.

“Oh, but I do, Lord.”

“Ronan is level headed,” Sihtric inquired, “Cinaed does not seem so.”

Uhtred hummed, the men at the table growing silent.

Osferth chimed in. “It will take time, Finan.”

Ronan had pulled Cinaed by the arm into a far room, fuming already at his remarks.

“You will not speak to our guests in such a manner.”

“Guests? I will speak of anything I desire to speak.”

Ronan wanted to shove his brother into the wall, but restrained himself, his voice growing in volume. “You will not!”

Cinaed scoffed, his eyes glaring into his brother’s.

“Our father is dead and you welcome these heathens into our home?”

“He was never our father. You know this.”

Cinaed suddenly looked more flustered, his eyes glistening and his face red.

“Cinaed, I know this is difficult. But something of a miracle has happened. Our family has been restored, our true father is waitin’ for ya in the great hall. He is a good man.”

Cinaed scoffed once again. “A good man?”

Ronan nodded, looking into his brother’s eyes sincerely.

“A good man wouldn’t have left his children behind for a damned whore!”

Ronan couldn’t argue that point with his brother. Cinaed stormed off then, and Ronan had resolved to let him go. Cinaed was not wrong, Finan had left them for a different life, but Ronan believed that he had served his punishment for this rash decision, and he was here now, traveling a great distance to meet them, to be near them. The death of their mother was reprieved by the return of their true father, and for that Ronan was grateful. Cinaed could only think of what he had just lost, his mother and his adoptive father, by Finan’s hand no doubt. Surely the younger teenager was confused, hurt, and angry.

Ronan returned to the men in the great hall, seemingly unphased, returning to his seat at the end of the table and flashing Finan a cocky little smile. They are so alike, Uhtred thought.

Ronan smiled softly again, glancing to the men seated at the table as he took a sip of wine. “Tomorrow, there shall be a coronation, in our chapel. For now, you should all get some rest.”

Uhtred spoke up, “There is one more matter to discuss, Your Grace. One of utmost importance.”

Finan looked at his Lord as Ronan hummed.

“I know you have no oath to the Scottish Princess, no allegiance to her. But your blood is at stake.”

“My blood, Lord Uhtred?”

Uhtred nodded. “She is with child.”

Ronan gave Finan a sympathetic look, then brought his gaze to the distance contemplatively. After a moment, he looked back to Uhtred and nodded firmly. “Then I will avenge my father and my blood.”

Finan’s eyes glistened once more, a soft smile of gratitude coming across his face. The young man sitting beside him was kind and brave, graciously accepting this burden laid before him and now proudly serving as protector of the Kingdom. Finan couldn’t help but think that Ronan was already the man he had always hoped he could be.

The next morning, the Irish priests held the coronation in the church, allowing Finan to place the crown on Ronan’s head as Gaelic chants echoed in the chapel, followed by burning incense and religious rites. Finan’s eyes glistened with tears as the crown was placed, Ronan’s dark eyes glistening back at him with a resilience Finan had never witnessed in any man before. Cinaed stood by, looking to his father with a renewed look in his eyes. The crown was placed and Ronan’s future had been sealed, but he faced it with respect and sworn duty. From that day forward, the burden had been passed.

Finan was not only a kind man but formidable, from what Cinaed could tell. He gazed at the many scars across his face and body, the tale of several years of battle. For that at least, he admired him. The next several weeks spent with his father and Uhtred’s men had even begun to bring him joy that he’d never experienced.

Ronan’s faith in Finan was unyielding it seemed. Cinaed saw this, and as the weeks went on he opened his heart to Finan, though cautiously still. The boys began to prepare for battle by training in the courtyard with Finan, Uhtred, Sihtric, and Osferth. Uhtred’s men had grown to love them, as they were just as cheeky and witty as the grown Irishman, all the traits about him that the men loved. The boys grew to love Uhtred’s men just the same, never having had such formidable sparring partners nor warriors to look up to in their younger years. Finan held his focus primarily on Ronan, sparring with him as often as he could knowing that he would be the one to lead the men into battle.

“I have something to ask ya,” Ronan inquired as he nearly knocked Finan on his arse with a swift blow to his side.

Finan chuckled in astonishment and dodged the attack just in time, bringing his sword to clash with Ronan’s again as he responded. “Anything.”

“You are no stranger to war, your skills shine through you with every step you take.”

Finan scoffed. “You will surpass me in time, Lad.”

Ronan hummed, sheathing his sword and reaching for his water skin to take a drink. Finan was gazing at him in admiration.

“Father,” Ronan started, placing his water skin down and looking up at Finan once more, “I would like for ya to be Lord Commander of my guardsmen.”

Finan looked at him intently before softly speaking up. “Ronan… My home is not here. Not anymore.”

Ronan nodded, a sad look in his eyes. “I know. But you still must retrieve yer wife before ya go back to Wessex, yes? I would like ya by my side.”

Finan smiled, coming closer to Ronan and putting his arm around him. “I will be yer Commander, Lad. You won’t be alone. I swear it.”

That evening, Finan walked the grounds by himself, only a few dim torches lighting his way as he came to the edge of the fortress, gazing out at the distant coast that could only be seen by the light of the moon glaring across its waters. A voice suddenly came out of nowhere, startling Finan from his stillness.

“You are deeply in pain.”

“Shit!” Finan shouted, drawing his sword in haste, before looking to see Uhtred standing before him.

“Lord, I mighta chopped yer head off.”

Uhtred laughed as he came closer, watching as Finan sheathed his sword and took a deep breath with a long, loud exhale.

“You are in pain from this separation. The light is gone from your eyes. Thankfully, I see it when you are with your children.”

Finan gave Uhtred a soft smile. “They are so brave.”

Uhtred nodded. “They are. But do you really think they are ready for war?”

Finan sighed. “No man is ever ready.”

“Finan, I don’t think war with the Scots is the answer.” Uhtred said as he gazed out to the coast. “We should endeavor a mission with just us men, and Ronan and his forces can be behind us.”

Finan nodded. Uhtred was always scheming, always thinking. And this idea sounded much better than a battle call with the Scots in an area in between the two countries.

Uhtred didn’t wait for Finan to answer before he spoke again. “I have already spoken with Ronan and Cinaed. We leave at first light.”

The journey to Scotland with Ronan’s guardsmen was without incident, however the heavy rains were difficult to stave off. Once the band of men reached a settlement point that was a near distance to Constantin’s palace, Uhtred, Finan, Sihtric, and Osferth decided that they would go the rest of the distance alone and scout the areas. They would make their own camp a close distance from the palace and find a way to infiltrate it, if possible.

“God be with ya,” Ronan said to the four men with a soft smile, “I want all of ya back in one piece!”

Finan smiled, grabbing his son roughly but kissed his head gently, “We’re tough bastards.”

Ronan looked at Uhtred then. “How will we know if ya need help?”

Uhtred shrugged. “We will send the baby monk back.”

Osferth narrowed his eyes at the Lord. “That’s a terrible plan!”

Sihtric smirked, coming closer to Ronan to speak. “You can see the palace from the edge of the cliff there,” he pointed to higher ground. “I will send a fired arrow if needed. You’ll be able to see it come nightfall.”

Ronan nodded to the Dane, and with a clamor of hooves and rustling winds, the four of them had disappeared into the wilderness.

The four men waited until dusk to come within close range of the palace, leaving their horses tied to a tree in the distance in order to move with stealth. Sihtric and Osferth moved in one direction while Uhtred and Finan went in the other, very quickly and quietly looking for an error in guardsmen or a breach in the palace walls. As Uhtred and Finan moved past a dimly lit area cautiously, an arrow whizzed past them quickly, followed by another.

“SHIT!”

An arrow grazed past Uhtred’s arm and the two men began to run, until they heard a shout from the battlements.

“Uhtred?!”

Uhtred stopped, grabbing Finan’s arm firmly as the two men turned around, looking up toward the battlements. Finan knew that voice like the back of his hand.

“Princess!!” Finan shouted urgently, still looking around but hearing no response. Suddenly, a gate to the fortress opened, and you came out of it slowly and in disbelief of the two men who stood before you.

You quickly drew your bow once again when you were face to face with them, an arrow aimed and ready. Why had they come? They had left you to your fate, and in the four months since you had laid your eyes on them, you had given up on any chance or possibility of them coming for you. Yet, here they were.

“My-my love,” Finan stuttered, holding his eyes between your gaze and your bow with his hands up in surrender, “I am here. My precious girl, I am here.”

You shuddered at his voice, bringing your bow in closer and holding it higher in aim as your hands began to tremble. “You should not be.”

Uhtred cocked his head at you in confusion, also searching between your eyes and your weapon as he raised his hands in unison with Finan’s.

Finan cautiously walked closer to you.

“Princess, am I not the father of that child in your belly? You know me, by God you know me better than anyone. Put down the weapon, love… please, I’m beggin’ ya.”

A tear escaped your eye now, but your stance didn’t falter. All you knew was defense and strife, war and power, kings and queens. You could hardly remember what it felt like to hear Finan’s voice and what it did to your body. Until now.

You shuddered again, speaking softly to the men.

“You will leave. Now.”

Your arrow was pointed right at Finan’s chest, and he knew it, but he trudged closer anyway, trusting that you would never hurt him. He grabbed your weapon from your trembling hands and threw it to the ground before grabbing your face with his rough hands and bestowing a passionate, searing kiss to your lips.

>>> Part 10

Taglist: @gemini-mama @persephones-journey @alexagirlie @whitedarkmoonflower @bcon24 @ficnation

[covey-o-quail]

magic isnt sentient I DONT CAREEEEE white london is ALIVE it's dying but like. it's still alive. they acknowledge this. the earth is angry the magic is afraid. and ok so tell me why antari present at like 4-5 + holland was 8 not like a super outlier but truly he probably would not have survived if he was a target That young. It Chose Him change my mind impossibleand also. his eye took a long time to go black white london scraping the bottom of the barrel for this boy who had pretty much already offered himself up which. hello. + his freaky threads "it was probably just osaron" okay i just think he would have noticed a change in his magic if so a la keel frayed threads anyway also also like he just was Given blood commands? so was kosika. also im normal abt hollands first spell being to end a life and kosikas being to save one . im so normal and also it is relevant. but like kell and lila had to learn them like theyd learn anything else. and maybe this one can be written off as it kind of makes things more difficult to explain otherwise bc where would white london antari get them from But. holland also has like a deepinate understanding of the rules and regs alsoBut. true unignorable freaktari behavior when they keep saying only the folk who hold the elements in balance can nurture life bc it's fragile at the start (o_o) and antari are often just Way Too Powerful to have Balance and the Priest Trees book4 They Keep Saying This and well. Well. tentatively crediting ghostholland with his tree However kosika cherry tree those most egregious Uhm?s but like even before that and even before That. i mean holland growth and life and strength/control/Balance w da rings n shit forever WAIT i was also going to say this later but it hit me holland black london deathsleep grass weeds flowers holland silver wood........ the Grass.................hello. yeah i for sure think his body is in some kind of incorruptible preserved + this? im not saying serak wouldnt be deep in his faith without but. Also the whole 10days theroies Like white london is definitely preserving him i think it would be good if it said Ok we understand rest a little while but like. it's not over here. i think it would be good if white london and its people learned to love the other again and trust. that was always the biggest thing 2 me since book one literally the whole magic + man story and then kell thinking abt holland vortalis ally and then holland + danes story BE SO FR maybe thats why i got confused and didnt understand the framing of acol ending bc holland was always white london 2 me on some level and he should have lived and if he dies well. "when you say mean things abt urself this is who ur being mean to" except holland when u kill urself this is who And living his life loving white london was how . . so yes magic has been bound and abused for so long like how is an answer not to stop mistreating it. it would be so hard and so scary to accomplish but i believe andi think something could be done w holland switching sides in the allegory being a man w no magic just a guy who still is not unlike white london itself in fact more so even!! but whateverrrrrrr this gets into unfumbled alt paths. working w what is presented i am still hopeful

ok so i am curious how kosikas power will be explained if it's not literally just White London Chose Her Too since like. that cannot be hollands power lol. when i first read i was really negative abt the inheritor being brought back up and the possibility of it being An Object In Play for this trilogy but now. actually kind of digging it (osaron excluded) bc i would be fine if lila goes for it. espesh since it took her+kells power to close that one door and if things only escalate Well. there are more thoughts as to lila but i would support her if she decided to take the plunge and i would support her if she chose to Not and find another way and trust. i would be fine if kosika went for it bc it would probably either be bc 1) holland told her to or 2) holland told her not to. LOGISTICS ASIDE im not typing out the minutiae of hows. truly i do not think option 1 bc the truth of the inheritor would dismantle The Everything lol. but yk ghostholland can just lie so. it's simply a question of why and also what is he. number two is holland gets revived or some other thing happens and unravels kosikas whole Everything and it leads to a Mess and well. it would be really sick and twisted if kosika Actually went and inherited hollands power since we love to keep saying shes done so. and also she would do it to save her world that was it that was the Reason sorry i kind of think she'd be mad and disappointed in holland for a number of things . and even if he had never seen her b4 and was dead half her life i think he would feel guilty abt failing her. bc he's holland.

[lindyloosims]

LUKA: So, wanna talk?

DANE: About what?

LUKA: About whatever's been upsetting you lately!

DANE: Oh, that. I dunno.

LUKA: Am I gonna bite? No, I'm your big bro and I always have your back, so talk to me kiddo!

DANE: It's just...

DANE: ...I can barely look at myself!

LUKA: Why? You're awesome!

DANE: I feel like an alien inside someone else's body, a...a man's body!

LUKA: Oh-

DANE: And my name, it feels alien too!

LUKA: Do you have a name in mind to replace your old one?

DANE: I do, but...I don't want to upset mum.

LUKA: She'll only be upset if you're upset and by the looks of things, you're upset, so I'd say it's all good whatever you wanna be called.

DANE: Maybe after the wedding? I don't want to cause drama before Colt's big day.

LUKA: Whenever you're ready, you have my support.

DANE: Thanks Luka! That means a lot!

We've returned from our second trimester visit to the Obstetrician and things have taken a slight turn. Ophelia has gestational diabetes, like mum did a couple of times during pregnancy, also we declined fnding out the gender of our little one. We're sticking to that surprise!

Chase came over and I asked him to be my sim of honour...

...it's a yes of course! Womb buddies for life!

CHASE: Don't ever think that again! Cringe bro, real cringe!

COLT: Get outta my head!

CHASE: Twintuition, the gift that keeps on giving! I hear it all dude!

COLT: Ewww, stop that! I don't wanna see Toru naked, no thank you!

CHASE: YOU get outta MY head, dweeb!!!

The joy of being a twin! I love him really!

⏮️Previous/Next⏭️

[damianoconte]

──── 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒔 .

NAME　›　damiano MEANING　›　‘ to tame ‘ PRONUNCIATION　›　( dah·mee·à·no )LAST NAME　›　conte MEANING　›　‘ count ‘ PRONUNCIATION　›　( kòn·teh )

𝐚𝐠𝐞 . forty-one 𝐣𝐨𝐛 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . attorney general

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 & 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 . cis man, he/him, gay 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 . lucca, italy 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . government — democrat 𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . graduated from harvard law school 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 . married [see the end for wanted connection] 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 . none 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬 . perceptive, magnetic, intelligent, passionate, loyal 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬 . grumpy, blunt, stubborn, intimidating, impatient 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . frank adler ( gifted ), luke danes ( gilmore girls )

──── 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚 .

𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐭. his words hit straight and sharp, not out of malice, but because he doesn't see the point in dancing around the truth. his patience, or lack thereof, is notorious—his gruff demeanor isn't just for show. but beneath the sarcasm and occasional outburst is a man who cares more than he lets on. acts of service, like staying late to review a critical case file with a colleague or handling the behind-the-scenes work to support his husband without being asked, speak louder than any compliment he’ll never give.

𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐮𝐦, 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜. the kind of attorney general who can take dense legal arguments or policy debates and make them compelling, his words cutting straight to the heart of the matter. it isn’t just his commanding presence or sharp mind that draws attention—it’s his undeniable passion, the intensity that makes even skeptics lean in and listen.

──── 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒔 .

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨. dark blonde hair always styled, sharp blue eyes that seems to catch every detail and a scruff lines his jaw. at work, he wears button-ups and tailored suits, but when the sleeves are rolled to the elbows, colorful tattoos that snake across his forearms in bursts of color show up. off the clock, he can be seen in leather jackets and old t-shirts, worn jeans that had seen better days, the body of a fireman always accentuated.

──── 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 .

𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 streets of lucca, italy, where history clung to every corner like ivy on a stone wall. with a father rooted in his traditions, and a british mum with a sharp wit, ruggedness and refinement balanced their home and shaped the children. by the time he was old enough to leave, lucca felt too small and damiano had already his sights set on something bigger. he wanted more—more challenge, more opportunity, more everything. moving to the united states wasn’t just a choice; it was a necessity. he pushed through college, standing out for his refusal to settle and sharp intellect. harvard law came next. the pressure suited him; it was the kind of environment where only the best survived, and he thrived. now, as attorney general, damiano is exactly where he's planned to be. he’s driven, and doesn’t leave room for mistakes. people instinctively know better than to underestimate him.

──── 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 .

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞 .  ( husband )  𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 . familial — romantic 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 . UTP - i have suggestions 𝐚𝐠𝐞 . UTP 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐂𝐬 . jonathan bailey, winston duke, jake gyllenhaal, pedro pascal. 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . i'd like to work together on their story, their marriage. here a few ideas:

( with jonathan bailey ) after having watched wicked, i'd love a fiyero of my own! the social butterfly who's more than meets the eye. a lorelai/luke story, if you will; ( with pedro pascal ) nobody understands how their marriage works, how it even lasted all these years–they're the last people anyone would leave alone in a room, they're two hot-heads and always at each other throats; ( with winston duke ) a true himbo, the himbo-er the better. beefy husband material. he’s easy to manipulate because he hardly realizes what’s really going on, but he’s so beautiful that life adapts to him, not the opposite. he can have street smarts, definitely not book smarts. the kind of person who would quote documentaries about aliens with a straight face because he believes in them, and do it with an endearing naïveté;

[hekateinhell]

I'm back as promised with fluffy post-canon Armand & Louis headcanons because I need them, so you're going to get them whether you need them or not. 🖤

In RoA and BC, it's pretty much implied that Armand only comes to court to be closer to Louis and keep an eye on Lestat since there's always something going on. I imagine post-canon things are a lot more settled and he retreats back to Trinity Gate as much as he can, which means Louis goes back and forth a lot when he needs a break from the château.

They don't have a strict visitation schedule per se, but Louis knows it's time when they're on the phone and Armand quietly says something like, "We went to the opera today; you would have loved it." And it's very clear that what he wants to say is, "I would have loved it if you had been there with me." But he's not going to be demanding, that's not who he is with Louis.

Trinity Gate as a coven house is rather busy most of the time, very different when it was just Armand, Louis, and B & S; neither Louis nor Armand prefer to be in the spotlight like Lestat. And as much as Louis needs a reprieve from court life and being Lestat's emotional support animal, Armand also needs a break from being the ever-on-alert guardian and caregiver at Trinity Gate. It's necessary for both of them to have that time away and decompress with someone who can relate to what they're going through (worrying over Lestat; having so much of their identity wrapped up in who they are to other people).

Shortly after the events of BC, Armand purchased a beautiful old renovated Victorian property by Sleepy Hollow, New York (Louis surprisingly never gets tired of making a deadpan Headless Horseman joke whenever it comes up, beating Lestat to the punch). It's exactly an hour's drive from Trinity Gate, so it's easy for Armand to meet Louis when he arrives via Armand's private jet and they head off for a few days.

The Sleepy Hollow house is their special place together. In some ways, this is the first time they can authentically recreate the early days of their relationship under much better circumstances—their "gentle intimacy"—without the ever-present distraction of fledglings coming and going and the earlier threats of Burnings in the 2000s.

They both have an inclination to want to retreat from the world at times, so for Armand being away from the overstimulation that is millions of minds in NYC and for Louis having a complete lack of privacy as royal consort at court, a little house miles anyway from anyone else is a much needed sensory reset. A lot less opulent than Trinity Gate and an actual castle, it's truly a smaller, comfortable, and cozy nest that reflects both their combined tastes.

Armand will typically silently opt to don Louis's old sweaters that he's hoarded and now keeps there, and Louis will very intentionally make it a point to wear nothing but clothes Armand's bought for him in years past. It's his way of saying, "This is our time right now."

Away from everyone, it's where Armand feels the freedom to be more vulnerable and passionate and confess how much he misses Louis, how tired he sometimes feels (remember: he's 500 years old and he has yet to go into the earth once, he must be exhausted). The sentiment is mutual—they were a constant in each others' lives for over a combined 10 decades. 

Oftentimes they take mortal naps together, curled up on the sofa in front of Romeo + Juliet with Claire Danes and Leonardo DiCaprio (a movie Louis is said to have watched in TVA) and the artificial candles flickering. Armand's head on Louis's chest and Louis's "long and delicate fingers" tangled in Armand's curls, a green wool blanket that costs more than my rent draped over them both (Armand enjoys being cocooned and he likes to think Louis does too... and he does). ♥️

[somenamewithepineapple]

✨G’day, mate! It’s ya buddy, HEX anon again!✨

Thank you for your amazin’ reply to my previous message. Am I right to believe that Silrah being (like) a married couple is your headcanon as well as how you view their relationship? I kind of put two questions in one but got one answer for those, so I’m not entirely sure I understood that correctly 😅.

Now, I got some new questions for ya:

Could you tell me your top 3 in fic genres?

Would you prefer a fic with just Farah and Saul, or could I potentially add some side characters? If I can, are there any you wouldn't want in there?

What are your feelings about Farah’s nap? Are you a “fixing it with a resurrection” gal, or a “she’s been alive all this time” gal?

How do you think Christmas is celebrated in the Other World? Is it still called Christmas? And which member of our beloved Silrah pair would be most likely to act like a Scrooge? Or would neither of them?

Please be as elaborate as you'd like, I’m here to get to know you and figure out what would be the best present for you, so I need all the information I can get! Give me aaaaall the brain rot, don’t hold back 😀

Just for fun: Tea or coffee? Fairy lights or candles? Paper book or ebook?

See ya! Yeehaw! 🤠

I see someone is checking the event channel on discord. Blink twice if you're currently online :D

Yes. you're right. I mean I also did give one answer to two questions so I'd say I definitely see their relationship in the show as something like a soulmate bond (ugh this is so cheesy but whatever) and my headcanon would be that while they're not married, they basically have been behaving like a married couple for the last 30 or so years. They themselves probably don't even know if they're married or not because you know it's been so long and who knows what they signed when they got drunk at the campfire together? They certainly don't.

My top 3 are: (no particular order btw, I don't have a favourite child)

Enemies to Lovers babey whoohooo (is that a genre? I don't think so but I am also known for interpreting questions however the fuck I want so I'm sorry for misinterpreting your question to tell everyone how much I love this kind of fanfic lol)

AUs (the possibilities as well as the "I will love you in every life" gooooodness how beautiful is this? Am I right??)

Angst (but not the sad ending please don't kill anyone it's Christmas!!! however I'm always in for some drama and I'm 1000% certain Farah tried to hide all her severe injuries from Saul because there were more important matters according to her which resulted in Saul trying to gently tell her that a stab wound is in fact a matter of importance)

You can totally add however many side characters you want as long as it is not Dane (who the fuck is Dane anyway?)

Farah's nap... honestly I can do both, although I'd rather lean towards "She's been alive all along" because I refuse to believe in stupid/boring deaths. Also S2-Saul's non-reaction supports my theory

I know I know Christmas is a first-world holiday but what about mulled wine and fairy lights and christmas trees? So while I think they probably don't celebrate Christmas (or maybe became a thing some years ago) I always pictured the otherworld having some sort of winter solstice and new year's celebration with loads of cringe family dinners and gift-panicking and kissing under the mistletoe. What should I say, I'm a romantic. And speaking of romantics, I can picture Farah as an accidental Scrooge-Grinch but without the "messing up the holiday for everyone else" part. Of course our dear Saul would make it his mission to make her enjoy the days.

I hope my brain rot was helpful!

And:

Tea and coffee, depending on my mood and sometimes both at once

Fairy lights probably, mostly because I don't have to get a lighter for them but I want both on my Christmas tree! Because real candles are the real deal!

Paper books 100% except for when I'm travelling because that's when ebooks are more convenient.

Hasta the next time, HEX anon 😊☄️

[independentartistbuzz]

7 FROM THE WOMEN WITH KRISTEN RAE BOWDEN

Kristen Rae Bowden is a singer-songwriter whose music captures the raw emotions of love, freedom, and personal growth.

Growing up in a musical family in North Carolina, Kristen’s journey from a self-taught pianist to a recognized music artist in the Americana and indie scenes is inspirational.

In this exclusive interview, Kristen discusses her latest single, "Skateboard," a song that vividly recalls the thrill of young love and the sense of independence she felt during her college years.

She also opens up about her creative process, sharing how her sound has been influenced by artists like Joni Mitchell and Imogen Heap. Collaborating with her partner, guitarist Joe Lawlor, has been a significant part of her recent work.

What have you been working to promote lately?

I am happy to be here promoting my latest single "Skateboard," my exploration of what it felt like to be young and in love and newly on my own.

I wanted to capture a time early in my college days when I had a skateboarding, long-distance boyfriend. We would visit each other at our respective schools, and after I’d had just enough to drink and smoke I’d get brave enough to try and ride a skateboard myself a little bit. Both the skateboarding, and the time in my life, were pure exhilaration… the wind in my hair, being free of a curfew, falling in love… life felt new and full of potential. That’s the feeling we wanted to capture in this song: the uplifting freedom of hot summer nights through the lavender haze of young love.

I co-wrote this song with my musical and romantic partner, guitarist Joe Lawlor (DMB). I heard him playing the opening guitar pattern one night and immediately wanted to sing over it… “Keep doing that!” I yelled from the next room, and the first line just came out of my mouth: “Feeling so high / when you’re driving all night / to my front door”. When I first sang the line, I thought we were writing a pop country song - it’s that type of soaring vocal. Ultimately it turned into an indie-pop tune with folk and alt country elements. We were so lucky to have our friend Dane Alderson (Yellowjackets) play bass on the track, with mixing by John Alagia (Dave Matthews) and Pedro Laet (Mt. Joy), and mastering by Whynot Jansveld (The Wallflowers).

Have a listen!

Please tell us about your favorite song written, recorded or produced by another woman and why it’s meaningful to you.

My favorites change with my moods, but "Canvas" by Imogen Heap is what just came to mind.

This song truly is like a sonic painting, and when I listen to it I feel immersed in another world. The lyrics are pretty abstract, so what I hear in them changes based on what is meaningful to me at the time. There is both peacefulness and a desperation in the words and the soundscape, and this combination resonates with me. It’s ethereal and haunting, like a soundbath. It always takes me out of where I am and puts me on a different plane with a different outlook. I’ve read that Imogen does a lot of her own engineering and production in addition to writing, singing, and playing: that’s inspiring to me. The production here is stunning. This is a song I come back to again and again.

What does it mean to you to be a woman making music/in the music business today and do you feel a responsibility to other women to create messages and themes in your music?

It’s important for women to have the space, time, and support to express themselves with art. With everything that’s happening in our country and our world, we need that outlet. I’m ridiculously lucky to have the resources and freedom to write and create music. As a woman I feel even luckier in this way because I think women carry so many burdens in their daily lives that having a quiet spare moment alone is a rarity for many.

And no, I don’t feel a responsibility to anyone to put certain messages or themes in my music. It’s hard not to look at what you’re creating through the lens of what other people are going to think and say about it, especially in this age of social media. I think it’s important to create what you want and do your best to forget about all that. I hope the themes in my music lift women up, and that that happens organically. That’s how I feel in my heart, so I hope it spills out when I’m writing. 

Who is your favorite female icon (dead or alive) and why?

The Mexican painter Frida Kahlo is a female icon I’ve delighted in learning more about in recent years. I’d previously admired her beautiful, raw, symbolic paintings, but two years ago I decided to read her biography after seeing an X-Ray of my own crooked spine. After I cried about it for a minute I thought, I bet reading Frida’s biography would change my perspective and stop me feeling sorry for myself. She had polio as a child, and then as a young woman she suffered a broken back and many other terrible injuries in a bus/trolley crash, leaving her in horrible pain for the rest of her life. She took up painting while bedridden after her accident, and channeled the pain into her art.

Reading her biography I learned about the origins of her instantly recognizable personal style: she used fashion and her outward appearance to express her Indigenous Mexican heritage, essentially becoming a work of art herself. She challenged traditional norms of gender and sexuality, defying conventional expectations of femininity.

Her paintings address deeply personal women’s issues and pain, such as her sexuality and her inability to carry a pregnancy to term, with shocking openness at a time when nobody was doing that. They also address her political stances and cultural heritage. The way she lived her life and created art is incredibly touching and inspiring to me.

A couple of years ago I had the opportunity to visit her house in Coyoacan, Mexico City, which is now the Frida Kahlo museum. Seeing her paintings up close, along with her her belongings (her wheelchair, her easel, her back braces and incredible folk style clothing), and walking through the rooms where she lived, gave me goosebumps. If you have the chance to go, I highly recommend it.

Who was the first female artist that made you want to create music / be in the business?

I ran cross country in high school. When I was 15, before I could drive, one of my older teammates would drive a couple of us younger girls to practice after school. She played Joni Mitchell’s ‘Blue’ album in her car all the time. I’d never heard it before, and at first, for some reason, I didn’t like it. I kind of hated it. Something about the timbre of her voice was off putting to me. But after a couple weeks of listening to it, I became obsessed. I started listening to it at home on my own time, and really digging into the lyrics and melodies. To this day, that album gives me flashes of memory from that first summer that I heard it, and all that it has meant to me since then. Joni made me want to write my own songs and put my poems to music.

Do you consider yourself a feminist? If so, why or why not?

Hell yes. No one is free without bodily autonomy. Women all over the world are enduring unspeakable horrors simply because they are women. We need feminist belief and activism as much now as ever. 

What do you hope to share with other women in the industry with your music?

Catharsis, solidarity, empathy, and empowerment.

Finally, where can we find you online?

Connect with me all over the web here:

[smileweakandwrong]

Sitting outside and reflecting on life as one does and man, maybe I don’t always appreciate how comparatively good things are but I’m feeling extra appreciative today. Just sitting in the backyard of the house I own with the wonderful partner I’m lucky to have spent the last nine years with as we approach our second wedding anniversary. Sitting on the new big deck that my father drove 15 hours to come help build with my father in-law because I’m lucky to not only have a family that supports me, but also in-laws who are just as supportive. I’m lucky that I’ve got a handful of friends that I love fiercely even if I don’t get to see them as much as I’d like (or haven’t had the pleasure of actually meeting in person yet).

But if you had of told me ten years ago that this is where I’d be today I absolutely wouldn’t have believed it. Ten years ago I was two months into living on my own for the first time in a tiny studio apartment smaller than the nice new back deck I’m currently sitting on. I was getting ready to turn 25, had recently gone through a devastating breakup, and was living in a city that was still new to me with no family or friends outside of a few coworkers and my ex-still-best friend who I moved there for in the first place. It was awful but I was too stubborn to go crawling back home and give the people who said I was making a mistake by uprooting my life for a girl the satisfaction of being right.

The shoebox-sized apartment was in a sketchy part of the city and had no AC in a place that hits 40°C in the summer, but they let me move in on short notice with two Great Danes and a cat. I could barely make ends meet, couldn’t afford internet so survived on watching the same dvds over and over. Being alone also let the trauma that I’d spent 8 years suppressing rise to the surface in a god-awful wave of ptsd. I was so hyper-vigilant that I couldn’t bring myself to go into the busy grocery store so got by on whatever I could buy at the corner store next to the apartment. I drank way too much, started self harming again after years of not, and lost a ton of weight. And I was dealing with it alone because I didn’t want to burden anyone with my struggles.

It got bad. Then, eventually, it got a little better. I found a therapist who was well versed in trauma and even though my insurance only covered a handful of sessions it still gave me some tools to break the ptsd pattern. I finally saw that my ex had been right, we weren’t good together but are good as friends. I was able to start taking better care of myself. I embraced my new city. Some months later I met my now wife and was in a position to let myself be open with someone and start a healthy relationship.

Has it always been easy? Definitely not. Do I still battle awful anxiety almost always? Yes, but I’m ten years sh-free and have a life and a partner and a home that I love and that’s worth the hard days.

Basically, as cliche as it is, the bad does get better even if it never fully goes away. If anyone is having a hard time and needs someone to talk to I’m always around. I don’t want anyone else feeling like they have to struggle alone the way I did.

[tricornonthecob]

Ow my legs

LK 110: Warshington Takes Command

(pt1)(pt2)(pt3)(pt4)

awww Sarah is so excited to be doing a journalism with her crush.

Ayyy! Its his pigeon phase!

This frame has such an energy.

Also, he was kindly to pigeons as a street orphan. They kept him company while people shunned him. He is now a pigeon person.

James is so concerned for his pigeon friends. I bet he can mimic their cooing sounds.

I love this interaction I love sibling interactions I love feral little sibling irritating the older sibling energy.

Dudemanbro is as unfazed by casual gunshot sounds as I now am after having grown up close enough to a base that occasionally tested artillery and would shake our windows, lived in Richmond for seven years, and then lived in a neighborhood with one person who really likes fireworks.

The beagle/great dane puppy is so excited.

Calm down, Lydia Bennet.

womp womp everyone's injured because war were declared.

And she would know what a good one looks like!

Damn James laid into them alot more than what I expected him to.

Fuckin' Yikes. Destroys the evidence.

...You know I don't think it was a brave thing so much as a hare-brained, coke-nosed thing, go on though, there's a but in that sentence.

Is this Moses' extremely diplomatic way of saying Benji Franx was being a dumbass.

Okay but Benji, she's one of your reporters, too, and why does the girl always have to be the eye-rolling mom friend keeping the boys of the trio in line. What if its the blonde boy with main character energy that's actually supposed to be the mom friend??? He'd make a great mom friend when he isn't having ADHD teenager brain!

I do like the visual of James going to Franklin, excited as hell and overwhelmed that his chosen Role Model supports his Interests, and excitedly chattering/brainstorming about his idea to use homing pigeons. It was probably adorable and I wish it was shown. In this house we stan Empathetic James and Excitable James.

Quick someone get Lydia Bennet Sarah over here, she's missing the Army Sandwich.

Wow this Keebler Elf really stands out. He must have been rejected by his clan for being so tall wait isn't this Aaron Carter's character

Butterfliiiiiint he must have been too clumsy with the cookie dough in Keeblerville or wherever the fuck their tree is.

Why was it loaded, Elfo???

I'm very sorry, animation department, but what the hell.

...This is a reference to some boomer shit, isn't it. I know they make a scooby-doo reference somewhere.

Talking mad smack for the New England version of West Virginia. What secrets is Connecticut hiding in its forests, that it so jealously guards them from Pennsylvania???? Is it the location of the Keebler Elf tree.

Colonial Walgreens Manager.

Sarrrrrge you weren't supposed to tell anyone my occupation GOSH

Why is this guy so ominous.

Oh my god Striker? Even his name is edgelord.

That is the correct answer, Henri!

[keepsmagnetoaway]

Incredible Hulk (1968) 150 (April 1972)

Archie Goodwin/Herb Trimpe & John Severin

The Incredible Hulk? In my X-Men tumblr? It's more etc etc. We're now into the early 1970s wilderness period where the X-Men had no ongoing series of their own but still existed in the Marvel universe, getting puled in for guest appearances here and there, which means the next few weeks of posts will be weird one-offs and glimpses of other Marvel books of the era. Like this one, which is a Hulk comic that unexpectedly involved Lorna Dane and Alex Summers, mostly because Lorna has green hair, which makes Hulk horny.

I actually loved this issue. To be fair, Hulk is not just generically horny for green - he thinks Lorna is his alien princess lover Jarella, who also has green hair. This is after the opening sequence of poor Hulk being persecuted and hunted by the US army through the New Mexico desert again - this happens to Hulk constantly, obviously, and I think if I was reading his series regularly I'd be a bit bored of it, but it's fun for a while. I really do love Hulk: and, crucially, Hulk talk proper here.

I also love me some scary bikers - these are probably the ones who attacked the X-Men in Coffee-a-Go-Go way back when, now taking a trip through the desert. Lorna is doing the same, in her case because she's looking for her love, Alex, who self-exiled late in the ongoing X-Men series after almost killing Bobby in a fight over Lorna.

I also really like Alex and Lorna - they've always felt like an interesting pair, more emotionally complex than the mainline X-Men and a really important addition, proof that the series can have - and, indeed, needs - recurring supporting characters. So this issue combines all that with some enjoyable desert landscapes.

There's also, of course, an unnecessary but inevitable showdown between Alex and Hulk, which is quite well-done, with their powers and the landscape giving us some striking visual effects.

The end result is that Alex decides he can, in fact, return to society and use his powers for good - though obviously given the current publication situation I have no idea where he will be using those powers. But as a little character story with some fun Hulk stuff, this was really good, and a hopefully good indication of the possibilities these guest-star issues provide.

[russell-crowe]

hello! i'm also someone who is really struggling with the country that i lived in most of my life and plans to move abroad to a specific country, so it's been oddly moving and melancholic seeing you post about the same thing. i was wondering, if you wouldn't mind sharing, how much language plays into it for you? i feel such a disconnect from the language i was raised in, and it is part of my motivations for wanting to move

i had a moment to think about this while tackling my cats and getting ready for bed. i really love this insight and i find it very fascinating! i think it mostly is the opposite for me though, as one of my biggest anxieties about moving abroad is language, and not being able to express my feelings as thoughtfully and casually as i can in my native tongue.

a couple weeks ago i saw my favourite dutch artist (spinvis) live and i shed a little tear over this very thing. the thing with spinvis is, that he writes melancholic (yet with some positive undertone, mostly?) music with lyrics that is based on the most ordinary of ordinary dutch phrases he has heard in every day life. with his work he has managed to come closest to the essence of humanity i have heard any artist be. but the casual, mundane, everyday type of dutch he uses to express all these nuances and meaningful moments with, is that level of language you only master at native speaker level.

and then i got sad because of two fears:

fear one: never being able to express myself in danish in this matter, and not understanding the casual native speaker elements and the tiny details. always being Nearly There but not fully. being alienated over language.

fear two: having someone who loves me and who is important to me, who is unable to grasp the concepts that spinvis for example digs up. not understanding the way my native language can dig deeper into my heart than anything else.

my native language is like breathing. making small talk while ordering food comes easy. i am very jokey and positive and goofy in dutch. and compared to that the danish language makes me feel a bit trapped, because speaking 'monotone' drags some life out of my speech, i tend to over think casual conversation, i feel my energy drained after being among danish all day and i also feel like i cannot make jokes 😭

i have a C1 certificate in danish and most of the danes i have been talking to have been supportive as well, but i have realized over time that danish will never be my dutch in level of comfort.

but what drags me to denmark is just how much it... feels like home to me? and how life is not as fast paced as it is in the netherlands, and how not everything is as structured and controlled. being in denmark lifts something from my shoulders and despite The Anxiety That Comes With Moving Abroad, i feel lighter there. i remember during my first half a year living in denmark, my prof asked me: "how are you doing?" and i replied: "my bike's chain kept flying off, my hands were frozen in my gloves, i waa tired from biking all the hills, but i was still smiling." and tbh, that attitude has never left.

[hopepunk-priest]

Okay since everyone's doing it, I'm gonna do it too

My version takes place in the 70's, the gang is college-aged, dodging the draft by solving mysteries with a background of the rise of grindhouse horror films, second wave feminism, student strikes, "the silent majority," environmentalism, Watergate, Queer liberation, and groovy rock music. As a more adult take, the monsters of the week and overarching villains will reflect, criticize, and celebrate the cultural movements of being in your early 20's during the 70's. That means villains ranging from nerds in star wars costumes to paranoid political scandals to actual real aliens. Stakes range from being inconvenienced to being in mortal peril.

Fred Jones: Mom friend with first aid training (that he learned from med students during a campus protest), the moral compass of the show in that he reminds the gang that laws exist and they are very much on the run, fucking HATES Nixon dude like HATES Nixon. Heart's always in the right place, even if things don't always work out. Knowledgeable in traps and whatever level of engineering is needed to solve the episode, also acts as the primary face. Also just loves mysteries.

Norville "Shaggy" Roberts: former track star, dropped out of culinary school, collects cool belt buckles a la original series, straight man in the horror movie "maybe we don't go in the haunted house" way, brave considering zombies and witch's ghosts are straight up real and he will still never leave his friends to face danger alone. Anxiety disorder he treats with weed, super knowledgable in pop culture which also gives him a variety of random trivia needed to fill gaps when needed. I think he really likes Lord of the Rings and Pink Floyd. Good at riddles.

Daphne Blake: inferiority complex because of her many successful siblings, wants to be a journalist like Gloria Steinem. Has taken a few self defense classes, but overall acts as the second face for the group. Still into make-up and fashion, and can use her skills (and a little high school theatre experience) to make believable disguises. She can pick up when someone's lying and can pick locks.

Velma Dinkley: Jewish. Loves mysteries and paranormal fiction, believes in conspiracy theories and urban legends. Her intelligence specializes in puzzles, historical, and chemical knowledge. She can be reckless, but only because she becomes very single-minded when she's onto something. Snarky, lesbian, and headstrong.

Scooby: Mischievous, food motivated, and gentle. Protective of the group, Scooby is just a big, goofy great dane who doesn't understand he isn't a lapdog anymore. He can talk, no one inside the group questions it, and only a select few outside the group even notice (part of the mystery). Intergalactic being but doesn't know it, he's much more dog than other iterations.

Scrappy: Just appears one episode, everyone acts like he's always been there. Revealed at the end that he's actually a trickster deity, comes in and causes chaos every now and then mostly just to fuck with Scooby.

The Hex Girls: a psychedelic witch-rock group with a heavy emphasis on environmental protection and new age metaphors, actual witches, a sound somewhere between Cream, Hendrix, and Stevie Nicks. Genuinely just friends with the gang.

Scooby is Shaggy's emotional support dog.

Daphne and Fred are together, healthy, and often end up hyping each other up to the point where other members have to step in and go "you're getting carried away, can we focus."

Daphne and Velma met at a feminist rally, and often have nuanced discussions about different feminist theories. Honestly, most likely to commit very real crimes to get to the bottom of a mystery.

Fred and Velma met in elementary school at a Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew book club (or whatever the 50's equivalent of this was) where they were the only two members. Their friendship is like an anti-macho brotherhood, paralleling the overly masculine friendships of the era.

Daphne met Shaggy in High School and she immediately adopted him the way extroverts adopt introverts. She is very dedicated to helping him build confidence, and Shaggy helps her with her inferiority complex and keeps her true to herself.

Fred and Shaggy are very physically affectionate, share a brain cell, most likely to get into shenanigans if left alone together. Second most likely to get into shenanigans if left alone together are Fred and Daphne.

Shaggy and Velma have a shared interest in music and films, and love talking conspiracy theories.

Shaggy and Scooby are inseparable. Real boy and his dog vibes.

They all smoke weed on screen, are constantly broke, they all are capable of being equally intelligent and dumb as rocks, they're all snarky in their own way, and they all say things like jinkies and Ruh Roh to like... Murders and cryptid kidnapings and issues of national security.

[malboraslihan]

@greatundoings  send  a  📸  to  see  three pictures  that  my  muse  has  taken  of  your  muse / raven and dane

1  .  dane  interrupting  her  stream  because  he  wants  to  take  her  out  to  lunch  and  that's  how  she  greets  him  ,  because  that's  what  he  deserves  .  but  she's  also  the  cutest  even  when  she  looks  this  annoyed  so  he's  snapping  pictures  and  calling  her  pretty  until  there's  a  smile  on  her  face  again  .  the  shirt  is  also  giving  .  .  .  not  hers  ,  probably  from  a  night  he  stayed  over  because  they  were  watching  movies  and  it  was  suddenly  past  midnight  and  she  was  asleep  so  he  just  closed  his  eyes  and  spent  the  night  .  and  then  the  next  day  he  changed  into  a  pair  of  clothes  he  had  in  his  practice  bag  so  the  shirt  stayed  there  and  he  pretends  he  doesn't  notice  her  wearing  it  but  lowkey  it  makes  his  stomach  spin  how  good  she  looks  on  his  clothes  /  2  .  another  one  of  them  out  together  and  it  was  either  she  got  cold  during  their  hang  out  or  she  was  at  his  place  before  that  and  needed  something  warmer  as  they  went  out  for  lunch  .  .  .  he  just  can't  stop  finding  excuses  to  have  her  in  his  clothes  and  have  pictures  of  that  so  he  can  cry  about  it  later  .  probably  forgot  to  get  his  sweater  back  so  it  was  now  hers  forever  ,  i'm  gonna  pretend  it's  a  riverkings  sweater  cause  that's  his  alternative  to  not  being  able  to  make  things  so  obvious  by  giving  him  one  of  his  jerseys  to  wear  all  the  time  /  3  .  when  she  reached  a  milestone  for  her  stream  ,  either  it  was  subscribers  or  views  ,  he  just  showed  up  at  her  house  with  a  balloon  with  the  number  and  hearts  and  enough  candy  to  put  them  in  the  hospital  .  ordered  a  bunch  of  food  and  watched  her  favorite  movies  or  played  her  favorite  games  with  her  to  celebrate  how  far  she  made  it  .  he  just  really  loves  her  so  much  and  he's  such  a  loser  .  .  .  he  is  her  number  one  supporter  ,  logs  on  for  every  single  one  of  her  streams  and  comments  the  dumbest  things  because  he  probably  loses  every  single  game  to  her  tbh  .  he  just  fights  every  single  idiot  that  shows  up  on  her  chat  and  scares  them  away  ,  always  comments  on  anything  she's  talking  about  to  get  people  talking  .  .  .  has  been  called  her  boyfriend  too  many  time  by  her  fans  lbr  but  he'll  just  disappear  from  the  chat  a  couple  minutes  after  that  happens  and  keep  talking  like  nothing  was  said  cause  loser  .

[geldiaries]

[ AUG022023 ]

This is probably one of the most emotional moments I had with Ate Dane.

Ever since I knew she would be taking the Board Exams, I already planned in my head that I will go to her and make salubong. So I did.

I actually have been planning it since March this year when the review season got really tough for her. I promised and told myself that I will try my best to be her support system. I don’t know the feeling of being anxious and tired because of the review, self doubts, and other negative things that are basically the effects of the review season, but I know it is hard. I understand how much she pressured and pushed herself into reviewing almost 24/7. She doesn’t even sleep or rest. She wakes up feeling like she’s going to throw up, she’s dizzy, lost her appetite, like her body really manifested the anxiousness in her mind. I hope she knows that even during those days, I’m proud of her. Like so much. I’m so proud of my Ate Dane even by just choosing to wake up and prepare herself to go to the Review Center.

Fast forward to Day 1 of her Review, I didn’t really message her much. I just sent her my “Good luck” and tried to ask her about her day because I know it was tough. I honestly wanted to go and wait for her outside SanSeb for Day 1 and 2 but I realized that it’s not the right time for that, so I didn’t. I got really sad when she told me that she broke down that day hehe so I kinda regret not seeing her even for five minutes on the first day. Then during Day 2, I was excited to see her. I want her to know that I’m proud of her for finishing the exam strong. I want her to know that she’s doing great and that she’ll pass the exam. So there, after I got her coffee I went straight to see her. It was funny because I don’t know where SanSeb was so I had to ask and let my two Uni friends to accompany me tho I was the only one who got off the jeep.

Then there when I arrived, I called Ate. Lowkey regretting I didn’t film the first part of that meet up because she almost ran to me, and she hugged me so tight. We both needed that. And I know we both missed each other that much. Before that meet up, the last time we saw each other was last February 03. Fucking 6 months. She can’t believe it and it was so funny because her voice became soft like she was about to cry. I was too. She had no idea how much I missed her and how much I longed for that moment.

After that, we went to St. Judes. It was our first time going to church together. We talked there and it was also the time when I finally told her in person that I'm proud of her and I hugged her again there. It was funny because when we were walking on our way to the church, it was raining, and I asked her to open her umbrella, but she only said "Mababasa kasi" and we laughed at that. She's just like me for real. So, we walked there under the freaking rain that's why we were soaking wet.

After that we talked again and catched up though I think a day would never be enough to talk when it's the two of us because even if we make kwento over the phone, we never ran out of things we talk-- and that makes us, us. We're just really talkative and we're that comfortable with each other.

When we're on our way to the LRT station, I got really sad because I know the time was short (tho we only agreed to see each other for good 10-15mins lol scam). I still want to be with Ate and I know she still wanted to just as much as I do.

But here..,

Hello, My Ate Dane

I know you won't be able to see this but I just want you to know that I'm so proud of you. I'm beyond proud of you. Congrats on finishing the board exams strong. Thank you for not giving up. I'm already claiming the "RPm" after your name. I know you'll get that (balikan ko 'to after results for another entry!). I love you so much! I will always be here to support you, in all ways. You know I got you, right?

Palagi.