#and yet just like Siggy

[randomnameless]

I'm really unsure how much stock i should put on Kaga's interview statement that you're meant to interpret Sigurd as an impulsive idiot who was too stupid to realize that he was being put into a very obvious trap throughout his campaign

Sigurd's death scene always read to me as the audience being meant to be both impressed by Arvis' intelligence and horrified at what's happening to the cast, not as "Sigurd is such a dumbfuck for falling for such a painfully obvious ploy, Arvis got really lucky that his biggest opponent is this much of a dimwit lol"

There's a huge difference between pre!Silesse!Siggy and post!Silesse!Siggy.

Chalk it up to Deedee being missing, living a few months in what is supposed to be a cold viper's nest (tfw Rahna's bros in law don't like her sitting on the throne) or his family being framed for Kurth's death despite years of loyalty by fellow Granvalle people (+ Claud's prophecy that things are going to suck), Siggy mellows a bit.

Then Ethlyn, Quan and Altena eat sand, and Siggy makes the decision to order the kids/youngsters to gtfo - he might still be an idealist at heart and trust that, at least, some people in Granvalle aren't part of the conspiracy to frame him and his dad for the murder of the King - maybe if he can talk to Azmur everything will be "okay" again - and yet, he isn't willing to risk the lives of the kids or the ones who want to get out of this mess, because there is a risk he's going to die, and he's now aware of it.

Post!Silesse!Siggy, especially after his dad and Ethlyn's deaths, reads as desperate - desperate to cleanse his family's name, but also to find allies and make sure the Granvalle he served - under Azmur - still exists.

Of course we know what happens, but fwiw, Siggy is at first doubtful when Velthomer suddenly sides with them to toast Reptor, but thanks to Aida's assurance - and no prior ill feelings against Arvis, who is, as far as Siggy knows, someone who was in Belhalla, gave him a nifty sword and serves the royal family more closely than anyone else - he accepts to follow her plan...

Only to be toasted in turn.

IMO, it's less than Siggy is an impulsive idiot, but he is a naive and idealist man who has full trust in the people he serves (the Heim royals) : sure he was played, but just like Reptor and Langobalt (or Lombard as he is now know) and, ultimately, Arvis himself.

Arvis and Manfroy fooled Jugdral, so it reads a bit as unfair to single out Siggy as being a moron because he was played.

Bar the memes, I wouldn't say it's Arvis being intelligent - but him finally showing his real cards (even if we got hints when he works with Manfroy, and Reptor wondering what the fuck he is doing), that is being unrepentant and torching (gameplay wise, at least in this cutscene) his own brother for the sake of reaching his dreams, and securing Deedee at the same time.

Both Siggy and Reptor trusted Arvis, and Arvis pissed on that to kill them with their pants down : much like ASOIAF's Tywin gambits, this isn't being more intelligent than the others, it's being more ruthless by betraying everyone and everything to reach his own ends.

However, unlike his bootleg copy, Arvis won't enjoy pots of tea and pastries during his retirement : by the time Gen 2 pops up, Oldvis lost everything he onced had, is manhandled by his own son, ignored by his own people, has his "grand ideals" twisted and torn beyond recognition, and his batman gambit to save the hunted children kind of falls flat, because he cannot save his own son(s) nor his beloved daughter.

And to add more salt to the wound, ghost!Deedee hangs out with ghost!Siggy and never asks about him - you can even read between lines that Deedee "accepted" her death at Julius' hands, instead of rewarping or whacking him with the Book of Naga because that would mean she'd reunite with Siggy, Arvis (and Julia, by the same occasion :'( ) be damned.

[sleepinglionhearts]

Deeply saddened and upset by the fact that the only yogurt I seem to be able to stand is a seasonal yogurt otherwise unavailable to me

[notjustjavierpena]

Siggy, the real question is pls get some more pregnancy joel…..bc tempers has me feeling some type of way 😮‍💨🥹

The Making of Ellie - Part IV: Libido

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Ask and you shall receive, anon ❤️ Hope it is worth the wait. 

Summary: Your libido has increased since getting pregnant. Joel doesn’t have a problem with indulging you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (mdni!), teasing, fingering, dirty talk, squirting, pregnancy sex, bit of fluff, intense orgasms, handjob, come-eating, desperate and whimpering joel is a warning in itself, the tiniest use of daddy.

Word count: 2.4k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49183051/chapters/124097539

Libido

Since entering your third trimester, your libido has increased significantly. It is to the point where you feel painfully hot and bothered throughout the day, having described it as an itch that simply won’t go away no matter how much you scratch it. You’ll cross your legs, bite your lip, flush pink and be short of breath just by catching a glimpse of Joel, and he’ll be on you as soon as humanly possible. In short: You just want to, and you do, fuck all the damn time. Bed, bathroom, kitchen, in the hallway, once on the staircase, car. 

Joel is happy to oblige, at least inside the four walls of your shared home. Sarah has completely fled the house at this point; despite it starting with your temper tantrums, her distaste for being home was really set in stone when she walked in on the two of you in a compromising position. 

“Dad, I’m really happy for you and all, but Jesus Christ, I’ll be home again tomorrow,” she’d said, and now, she comes home for dinner and to pack her soccer bag. He lets her. She’s practically grown at this point, and he’ll see her when she needs him, he knows this. He has made it a habit to text her goodnight too, and she always responds quickly with a heart emoji.

You on the other hand are a whole different story. You are always in close proximity to him, circling him like a goddamn cat who does not want to admit its attachment to you and waiting to strike for the right moment to get attention. 

Joel is emptying the dishwasher, a thing that he has made clear is his job after the incident, when he spots you out of the corner of his eye. He smiles to himself and pretends not to see you, continuing his work on getting all the mugs into the cabinet above him without crushing any of the million amounts of snacks you have hidden in the back. 

You move closer. He watches still, catches the way your skirt flows as you walk to stand on his right side. You grip the edge of the kitchen counter, leaning against it and eyeing him up. 

“Hey babe,” you say, tapping a finger on the front of the kitchen cabinet. 

“Hi honey,” he replies nonchalantly to make you work for it. He starts filling up the dishwasher too, causing a microexpression of frustration and confusion on your face. 

“Do you wanna do something together?” You suggest. 

“Sure, when ’m done here.”

“How about now? Skip the cleaning up thing?” 

“Is there anythin’, in particular, ya wanna do?” He acts oblivious. He goes to wash his hands, “Somethin’ that can’t wait?”

“Well,” you say with confidence, “Wouldn’t you rather get with—“

You push your hands down onto the counter to lift yourself up onto the kitchen table, but the act is hardly successful; you’ve become too stiff to do it, and it ends up a lot less sexy than Joel assumes is your intention. You try again, but you can’t get your ass onto the table, round belly in the way of being flexible enough to be seductive. 

“Hold up,” you furrow your brows, trying your act again and using your legs to kickstart the jump off the floor but yet again to no avail, “I can do this.”

“Sweetheart,” Joel says, one hand resting on his chin as he hides the urge to laugh out loud. He clears his throat to cover up a chuckle. 

“Stop,” you snap at him as you catch him actually laughing at you. He tries to suppress it, but when it bubbles up in his chest without his control, you become stubborn, “No, no, just wait.”

You struggle for a few moments more whilst Joel bites his cheek to keep you from getting upset. Eventually, you groan, “A little help here?”

“Sure,” Joel stands in front of you. He pushes on the soles of your feet the next time you try jumping, giving you the boost you need to perch yourself on the surface. 

“Now,” you brush non-existent dust off your skirt, gesturing to yourself afterward. Joel thinks you’re adorable, “Wouldn’t you rather get with this than clean the kitchen?” 

Joel sends you a smirk, “After that whole display, I’m actually not sure. Can you jump down and do it again so I’m certain?”

“Joel,” you bite, crossing your arms over your chest. He doesn’t know if you purposely squeeze your fuller breasts together or if he is just a dog, but he cannot help himself from staring. You catch him doing it, “Great. So you can stare at my cleavage, but you can’t touch me?” 

Joel says your name. You ignore him. 

“Have I not been paying ‘nough attention to ya?” Joel tuts in the softest voice, closing the distance between you to stand in between your legs, “Is that why you’re actin’ up?” 

You pout at him so prettily, arms still underneath your tits and fingers tapping on your elbows. It turns more fun when you don’t reply, gaze dropping after it becomes too intense to stare back at him. Joel loves this little game, can feel his cock twitch in his jeans and threaten to strain against the zipper. You look past his shoulder, chewing on your bottom lip with a sort of pained restlessness. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Joel continues. He reaches out to place his palm on your round belly, rubbing soothingly as you continue to ignore him in your attempt to repress a tantrum. He knows you get angry and frustrated when you don’t eat, but after getting you pregnant, he has discovered that you react the same to not getting fucked on the regular too, “‘S not right for me to tease ya like that.”

“No, it’s not,” you agree, placing your hand on top of his in a gesture of reconciliation, “Think you should make it up to your baby mama. She’s going insane, you know. Only you help.” 

Joel can feel his cock start to harden already. It is so easy for you to rile him up these days, hearing you talk about how he has ruined anything else for you. He is the only one to save you from this torment, and luckily, Joel likes to be useful. 

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Joel’s hand on your stomach slips down and then up under your skirt. He glides his fingertips along your inner thigh, watches you struggle to find the words as his digits go further north until they rest right by the fabric of your underwear. He can feel the warmth radiating from your core.

“Uhh,” you say as your mind fogs. Your legs automatically spread for him.

“This?” He hooks his thumb underneath the damp fabric right at your center, “Jesus, you’re so wet, baby. I’m so sorry. If you’d just told me, I would’ve—“

“Just touch me, stop talking, and—” you whine, scooting a little further towards the edge to give him more access, “Don’t have to worry now.”

Joel’s thumb settles on your clit and presses down lightly. It causes you to say his name desperately, the back of your head knocking against the kitchen cabinet when you crane your neck back. 

“Shit, are you okay?” Joel asks. He stops temporarily while you reach up to touch the back of your head. Though instead of wincing, you start giggling and Joel cannot suppress his own laughter. 

“Keep going,” you egg him on, “I’ll be more careful.”

Joel decides to pull your underwear to the side instead, so he can sink two fingers into you. You let out a shaky breath, “Oh, fuck. That’s just what I needed.”

Joel’s thumb is on your clit again. He fucks you on his digits slowly, searches for your g-spot for only a second before rubbing it with the pads of his fingers. God, the way your face goes slack. You absolutely love it. 

The wet squelches of your cunt are obscene enough to get him painfully hard in mere seconds too, combined with the feeling of your walls fluttering with your climax building.

“How the fuck are you so soaked?” He asks in disbelief. 

“May have pregamed,” you admit in your blissful state. 

“What?” Joel doesn’t stop what he is doing, but he slows down until he has almost come to a halt. 

You find his gaze with a frown, “Don’t stop.”

“I haven’t… pregamed?”

You squirm a little and try to move, but Joel places his free hand on your belly to stop you, “Tried to take care of it myself. Didn’t fucking work, okay? The angle is all wrong.”

Joel cannot believe his ears. He lets his hand go up to grab your chin and then starts fucking your cunt with his fingers in earnest. You cry out softly, holding his gaze intensely. 

“You find me, okay?” He puts on the voice that always makes you shut up and nod, “I don’t care what the fuck I’m doing. Say you wanna come and I’ll be there.”

Just like he predicted, you simply nod at his words. Your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, and he marvels at how you are barely able to connect your fingertips when your hand is in a fist around it. He loves you. Sweetest little thing he has ever known. 

“Gonna be a good girl and come f’me?” He smiles devilishly when your breathing indicates that you are close. He lets go of your chin and splays the palm on your chest to feel your rapid heartbeat, “Make those legs tremble f’me?”

He curls his fingers upwards to torture his favorite spot inside of you, and then you are coming around them with fast pulses of your walls. He watches your thighs twitch once and then twice before actually shaking violently, making him wonder how long you’ve involuntarily edged yourself before finding him. 

“Fuck, Joel, Joel,” you gasp in a very particular way, and Joel quickly removes his fingers from your cunt to see how a wet patch forms on your skirt from how you gush repeatedly as your climax reaches its peak.

It doesn’t even matter that it’s in the fucking kitchen, because the pride that he feels at making you squirt knows no bounds, and he cannot help the boyishness in his chuckle, “You’re fucking amazing.”

“Holy fuck,” you groan as you come down from your high. You rest your head against the kitchen cabinet again, this time without knocking it roughly into it. 

“Good?” He asks. 

“Fantastic,” you sigh contentedly, “Just gimme a sec. Take your pants off. I wanna do something nice for you before I go take this stupid skirt off.”

“Baby, you don’t have to,” he reassures despite how his dick hurts by now. 

“Pants off, Miller,” you commandeer. 

Joel follows through without further hesitation. He makes quick work of undoing his jeans and shoving them down with his underwear, grunting at the friction along his hard cock. 

“Look at you,” you say with a pout, “Poor baby daddy.”

You reach out to grab a hold of his cock, watching the bead of precome that threatens to drip down from the tip. Running the pads of your fingers up and down the shaft teasingly, Joel lets out a relieved moan at finally being touched but it only lasts for a moment because nothing escalates. 

“You said something nice. This ain’t nice, sweetheart,” he tells you with a groan, squeezing himself further in between your legs to get closer to your smug expression. You swear the precome over the sensitive head and both of Joel’s hands fly to the kitchen counter. He places them flat against the surface, “Really not gonna say anythin?’

You bite your bottom lip and shake your head, eyes still glazed over with your post-orgasmic bliss but now also sporting an innocence that drives him mad. You start stroking his dick, fist tightening around his girth and he can feel himself pulse in your hand.

It feels fucking great as you drag your palm over the skin again and again, but something clicks in Joel’s head when desperation hits. Fuck, he wants to come.

It would be impossible to make his body listen to him right now as it feels disconnected from reality and control. He tilts his hips, looks down at where you’re touching him so expertly, and then fucks himself into your tight grip. 

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say in disbelief but never falter. If anything, you manage to squeeze enough to make it a tighter fit without hurting him, “Fuck, you’re so hot like this.”

“Fuck,” he swears loudly and speeds up his hips. One of the hands on the kitchen table comes up to grab a cabinet handle, knuckles turning white as he strains to chase his orgasm. 

When the rubber band at the base of his spine snaps, Joel stills his hips. Your hand hesitates for a second, but then the first rope of come spills over your hand and you milk him for every drop he has in him. 

Joel hasn’t come like this in a while; always empties himself sheathed inside your soft cunt, but when you praise him absentmindedly as he comes, he finds that he might become partial to it. He pants through the almost painful clenches of his lower stomach and balls. 

When he whimpers at the over-sensitivity, your hand stills completely. Your free hand strokes his cheek with the back of your fingers, “You good? Talk to me.”

It takes a beat to find his bearings once more. His hand plops down onto the counter again. He mumbles with exhaustion coating his voice, “Alright. ‘M back.”

He thinks you’re as spent as him, but with your remaining energy, you lift your hand from his cock to lick his come off the back of it with the flat of your tongue. He groans, “Dirty girl.”

“What? It has vitamins,” you tease, giving your hand another kitten lick, “Unfortunately not D. Should’ve been vitamin D.” 

Joel rolls his eyes. He struggles a little with his balance as he gets dressed again, blood still not having fully returned to his brain. He gets the paper towels and helps you clean up, but you just look at him with a dazed smile.

“What?” He questions.

“You better fuck me like that tonight,” you muse.

“You know what to say, and I’ll be there. No pregaming,” he replies simply and helps you onto the ground again, “Now go change, momma.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[perfectfangirl]

notes after rewatching fallout s1 ep3

• almost certain that is sugarfoot cooper is dismounting in the scene from the movie he is filming 🥲 • the film cooper was filming here is called "the man from deadhorse", a clear play on the concept of "beating a dead horse" • just realized he [presumably] shot the bad guy character twice • i also noticed that the duster the bad guy character is wearing looks an awful lot like the duster cooper wears as the character he “plays” in the wasteland to cope. is... cooper playing a bad guy character based off one of his movies?? • saw a couple of different variations of "feo, fuerte, y formal" [all saying mostly the same thing] cooper says "he was ugly, strong, and had dignity" wikitionary says it denotes a conception of masculinity. very curious about this these words and the scene because cooper is obviously viewed as a concept of masculinity in hollywood, to the point where he's being asked to essentially engage in statecraft via propaganda as this movie scene is making his character do something completely antithetical--- killing the bad guy instead of solving another way, he basically says a line about "commies" then shoots the him in the head

• what's more is that some are viewing the three concepts of "ugly, strong, dignity" to mean either a variation of cooper, lucy, and maximus or of cooper himself, didn't even think of this and it's a particular interesting trichotomy of cooper pre and post war • "well, joey, i'll give you two out of three on that front" and now i don't know which two out of three • cooper goes out of his way to thank the actor jorge for playing the bad guy in his film • cooper presumably read the script, probably had a table read, rehearsal, and still didn't want to film his good guy character killing the bad guy [perhaps after cadillac bob got fired, there were rewrites and cooper was not told until then] out of context, this is charming, he values his characters so much that they mirror his own values [walton has argued with writers, directors, actors about his characters too!] but in context, it is either the beginning or yet another chapter is cooper's conflicting and morally challenging struggle of "right" and "wrong" in this show • need to know more about cadillac bob! he was doing the moral good type of writing on cooper's programs and i am curious if the firing was an ousting [as being labeled a communist is career over here] because the wiki says he was fired for refusing to write this storyline for the "new america" and then they wrote this character change for cooper to have a firmer anticommunist stance to influence the public. cooper wants to change the scene so bad, he asks for a writer and i find it amusing the director thinks doing a 180° on his character would be good because "the audience knows you're a good man. they want to see that even a good man as yourself can be driven too far sometimes" idk but this is about all the horseshit i can take • [this is precisely post war cooper's arc and character if that wasn't obvious enough] • enter barb. i love the sensual "married couple flirting like strangers" energy behind this scene • lavender flowers are supposed to represent purity, silence, grace, devotion, serenity, calmness--- just a little something for you romance girlies to think about with this scene • "tastes like someone touching you for the first time" and they make it a point to show cooper and barb's hands and cooper purposefully touching barb's fingers as they exchange the candy • hands and fingers seem to be important motifs here and it also seems like hands and fingers are particularly worthy of note for cooper • they kiss each other and they're like "sorry, makeup" and "sorry, lipstick" 😭 • looks like barb secured cooper some vault tec contracts • cooper winds up on siggi's headless body and i can almost see the algebra and trigonometry floating around his brain trying to make heads or tails of this shit • from my understanding, there's no chems that keep a ghoul from going feral within the game universe but there are chems that can and have turned people into ghouls, i see speculation that cooper may have a chem addiction and what we see are withdrawal symptoms, as when lucy finds him outside the super duper mart, he's still on the ground and not acting much feral but [of course coughing, drooling, etc could be the show's symptoms for ferality] i digress • almost think because it's dry and arid af out there, that's why he need a chem

• literally howling because of how lucy was handling siggi's head, she got over the shock and disgust quick 😭 • lucy is crazy for lighting another [camp]fire at night like that • lucy putting a tracker on siggi's head was smart though • lmao did the brotherhood of steel not know lord titus' regular speaking voice or • maximus lying to the brotherhood of steel, maximus selling his teeth for caps instead of literally anything else, maximus thinking he can leave his power suit uncovered and unattended without it being pulled for scrap--- like lord, maximus, please make a sensible step 😫 • the voice modulator mechanic person was very sci fi though • took me a second watch to realize maximus' tooth extraction resulted in a bit of a lisp glfgd • not maximus getting bullied again 😭 • maximus getting a wrench and toilet seat and beating the shit out of them wastelanders with them rotf • crushed that man's head like a watermelon❤️ • thaddeus being sent to inadvertently squire for someone he helped bully is his karma lol • "remnant from the old world" directly implying the enclave is a continuation of the us government • lucy arriving on the serene scene of a fawn near a lake where hollywood boulevard once stood [lucy being a parallel of the innocent doe, doe eyed, and this is bambi ok 🥲] • an undamaged, normal appearing fawn representing beauty and purity can grow in the wasteland and then it being snatched by a gulper likewise demonstrating that it can all be taken away in a blink of an eye • lucy once again being crazy for walking around with the barely contained rotting head, like of course the abomination snatched that too 😭 • cooper conveniently appearing with a cocked gun in her face and she just smiles and says "hello again" like excuse me?? 😭 • cooper's head tilt gets me every time, oof • he ain't have to lightly pistol whip her like that 😭 • lmao poor chet • betty to some degree i keep wondering if she knows extensively about the vaults of 31, 32, 33 or if she is just doing what she is told • norm using the word "escape" instead of perhaps "leave" when describing lucy's departure from vault 33 is intriguing, i think • it took me a minute, and i don't think i've seen much talk about this but i legitimately think norm's lack of enthusiasm and drive for life in the vault is directly connected to his mother's death but i have seen no clear age for him--- they don't show his memories like they do lucy's and i would want an explanation or exploration on his lore here because... he already uncovered vault 31's secret but i don't think he knows what hank has done and him finding out will be huge as well like for lucy • norm is rightfully angry at the raiders for what they did but i am almost willing to bet he might be implicated in their poisonings as a diversion tactic by someone like betty but it's all just a theory [a film theory gldfgldfl] • because someone in the fucking kitchen and handling the food poisoned them raiders... • ghoul prejudice being loud and clear and amongst the brotherhood of steel 😭 • ghouls leaving radiation trails is insane • lmao maximus and thaddeus coming upon siggi's headless body and then trying to compare his mugshot • maximus thinking it was the ghoul who beheaded siggi when it was lucy at siggi's request lol • dogmeat barking up a storm because she wanted cooper's foolishness upon lucy to cease • "you know, they use to do these things called "studies"" like lucy doesn't know what a study is? she's a teacher! 😭 • rads going up because of the water or cooper or both? • ok so i now get why when lucy told cooper torture was wrong that he went into a whole spiel--- not only was cooper in the military but for thirty years post war, dom pedro kept him in a coffin confined on an iv drip to keep him alive but would dig him up and slice pieces of him off and then put him back. cooper's behaviour using her as bait [but not torture] is of course not excusable but cooper is coming from a deep place of hurt and bitterness, this monster was whittled

• cooper goes on to say "it made sense. i mean a man hurts me, i wouldn't want to do him any favours. and yet the practice of torture failed to vanish from the earth. in fact, as time marched on, i've personally noticed a decided uptick in the amount of torture being doled out across the board." oh, cooper 😞 • he says this as he picks what looks like giant leeches off lucy [didn't have to do that] • "well, i ain't torturing you, sweetheart" here go the first instance of familiarity with a patronising pet name in the style of cowboyism and southerness gldgldlf • almost looked like lucy started cooperating when cooper told her he was using her as bait gldgldl • ok so it looks like cooper cut the rope? so lucy could get free i guess idk but then the gulper got ahold of the anchor so he couldn't reel it back? [not sure, anyways, he botched this lmao] • he starts striking at the gulper with what looks like a harpoon i guess when it catches lucy's leg [could've definitely let her get ate but didn't] • lucy basically saves herself with dogmeat biting the gulper and scaring it off • cooper empties lucy's bag and destroys her stuff so it's only right cooper's karma is his vials getting smashed in the process of using lucy for bait lol • cooper getting mad and taking out his gun and cocking it at lucy like it was her fault his shit got smashed 😭 • "oh, i'm sorry, i should just let you use me as bait in the poison river!?" the way she says it always almost brings a tear to my eyes like get his ass 😭 • for the first time in the show, cooper realises he was wrong and/or messed up [and to his detriment] • lucy protests her treatment, "do unto others as you would have done unto you" and cooper starts mumbling to himself "those gulpers digest real slow. you got time." because he already going through withdrawals, help • so he ties her up like a dog and says the wasteland got its own rule and it's "thou shalt get distracted by bullshit every goddamn time" 😭 this is so a reference to gameplay and how they themselves are going on a fucking side quest lmao • lucy asking about dogmeat 😢 dogmeat staying because that gulper has siggi's head ☹️

• lmao maximus masquerading as lord titus asking thaddeus to say something about him • you know? it's good writing to me to explain why a [secondary] character would bully or behave as thaddeus has to maximus--- he's not merely a side character and wanted to say nothing but nice things about maximus when he thought he died, i'll give him that • "we can judge a person and a society by how they treat their enemy" goes boom because of the game lore and also because somebody kills all those raider prisoners lol • this disconnect between the vault dwellers and wastelanders--- they're talking about teaching these people shakespeare when some of them eat people for survival • norm wants the raiders to die and they keep showing steph and this might be a red herring but i think she poisoned them mfs, personally • hmm why does steph know what hank would do in this situation like that flgdlgdl • maximus trying to protect thaddeus from danger • thaddeus calling cooper an abomination because he's a ghoul 😭🖐️ • the little scream thaddeus makes as the gulper gets him ❤️ • dogmeat really loved siggi ☹️ • cooper and lucy walking near an incinerated hollywood tour bus is so lmao why cooper walk past that • at first i thought cooper was displaying cruelty by not letting lucy drink his water but then it occurred to me it might be irradiated, the next scene with water like this, she gets sick from radiation from drinking water • lmao when he emptied the last drops of water in his canteen out in the sand in front of her 😭 • "ain't much stays clean up here, vaulty" he is talking about himself • lucy gazing at a billboard of vault boy, cooper shooting the face, then they cut to vault boy's origins being cooper--- • symbolism and parallels like this can kill a man but i did want to just say there's so many layers to this. to be short he has such contempt, shame for what he thinks he's done, people hundreds of years later worship this thing that represents the end of civilization and he feels responsibility because he was deceived as well. lucy none the wiser. she just thinks he's crazy and horrible for no reason. if only she knew. • the road to hell is paved with good intentions

[ayumitsuu]

[ FE4 Character Impressions 9 - I draw want I want 😎 ]

I thought #8 was the last one, but Gen 2 have a severe lack of WAVY HAIR SUPREMACY, so here were are. 💁‍♀️

- Poor Kurth, you read about how he’s pretty much a genius, but he doesn’t get to do anything u_u;

- Azmur sucks (ye, I said it), I refuse to draw him

- Febail’s fine but I really wanted a beautiful blond braid-bearing boy with a bow as Brigid’s son, with matching blue hair ties with Patty

- I love drawing Byron, because he’s very close to old Hector with grey hair, also because Byron is the best 😤

- when Siggy had that touching moment where he said Lahna was like a mom, I immediately shipped it ;’D (Byron x Lahna)

- no wonder everyone wanted Arvis for emperor, Azmur sucked, Kurth got hit by the plot hammer, man’s got it all: brains, power, and looks (pretty hot amirite? ❤️‍🔥 …too soon? 🤪)

- headcanon that Gen 2 Arvis has the worst eye bags

- Gen 1 Travant was a ladykiller (literally and metaphorically), just look at the smirk on his portrait 😏

- so I thought I’d hate Travant irrevocably after he killed my fav couple, took their daughter, and pretended to be her real dad… but I was wrong. I still don’t really understand how I feel about him. He can’t be forgiven, and yet… I don’t hate him 🫣 FE4 is wild, man…

- one thing I really like about Travant is how smart he is, intelligent enemies that are calculating and don’t underestimate you are the most terrifying

Travant: “WORM.”

Me: hehe, “Wyrm.” *gets impaled by Gungnir*

Look how similar these bad boys are. I swear they were swapping hair care tips in their younger days.

[manorpunk]

Teach Me, Maria-sensei! 4️⃣

Maria Lorraine is best known as the author of “Authoritarianism is Good when I Do It,” a sprawling tract which is supposedly about the relationship between philosophy, the creative arts, and imperialism, but also contains many odd tangents and suspiciously specific complaints. Maria is second-best known for ‘the Turk speech,’ in which she argued at a Poster’s Union meeting that “if there is, hypothetically, such a thing as a ‘master race’ or a people chosen by god, it would objectively have to be the Turks.” The meeting ended in a brawl that left several posters hospitalized. “If there is, hypothetically, such a thing as x” lives on as a popular meme to indicate an absurd or overly combative argument.

+++++

Maria Lorraine: Do you want to know the difference between Eastern and Western philosophy, Sunny?

President Sunny Roosevelt: Honestly, not really, but I’ve interrupted you enough already so I’ll let you have this one.

Maria: The origins of Western philosophy are found in the symposia, ancient Greek parties which revolved around wine, conversation, and sex, while the origins of Eastern philosophy are found in the shi, a class of itinerant advisors who would travel from region to region offering their services to local rulers and ministers, and writing treatises to show their administrative expertise. In other words, the origin of Eastern philosophy is the just and proper administration of a state, while the origin of Western philosophy is drunken pederasty.

Sunny: Hey, maybe both sides have a point.

Maria: Now, are you at all familiar with Taoism?

Sunny: Sure. You’ve got your Yin, and you’ve got your Yang, and they’re like opposites, right? Night and day, hot and cold, all that good stuff. And everything’s made up of Yin and Yang, and they’re always turning into each other, or something like that.

Maria: That is the popular perception - and it’s pronounced yang, rhymes with song.

Sunny: Correcting my pronunciation is such a - Wait, what does all that have to do with running a state?

Maria: Oh, you’re actually paying attention. As I said, that is the popular understanding of Taoism, but the truth is deeper - Taoism is not mere metaphysics, but a layered and intricate metaphor for the administrator’s craft. It is something one can ponder for a lifetime and not exhaust even a fraction of its implications. Two forces, so diametrically opposed that they cannot exist without the other, a syzygy…

Sunny: You’re making that up. No way is that a real word.

Maria: Night and day, hot and cold, male and female… urban and rural, centralized and decentralized, core and periphery. Do you see what I’m getting at?

Sunny: [nods] Not even a little.

Maria: Let me put it this way. Rural people complain about the rootless superficiality of the urban people, and urban people complain about the obstreperous traditionalism of the rural people. Both seek to shape the other to be more like themselves, but they are both products of their context. Rural areas exist because resource industries - logging, mining, agriculture - are spread out by their - pardon the pun - by their very nature, while the development and production of consumer goods and services requires factories and offices which leads to urbanization. The existence of one depends on the other, and it is that dichotomy which allows society to function. Theoretically.

Sunny: Ahhh, now I see. Urban and rural are like a siggy-ziggy.

Maria: Syzygy.

Sunny: Why does that matter, though?

Maria: Why does it matter? Half the country is one big cyberpunk megapole and the other half is a neo-feudal wasteland. The ideological conflict between these two extremes will be a defining challenge of your tenure. It…

Sunny: No, I mean why does it matter that I properly pronounce your stupid made up words?

Maria: Because all words are made up, and ‘syzygy’ is a lot faster than saying ‘a pair of forces which are diametrically opposed and yet interconnected because of their opposition,’ and understanding established terminology means you can actually engage with…

Sunny: Why not call it a beep-boop?

Maria: What?

Sunny: If you just need a word you can use to refer to the concept, why not call it a beep-boop? [Peace sign] Beep-boop!

Maria: Cease this whimsy, it sickens me physically.

Sunny: Beep-boop!

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

ok.. bagginshield: bodyguard au, bilbo is a paramedic, and has amnesia. PLease i'm BEGGING

Sandy. My dude. I told you I had an idea for this but it became SUCH A BIG THING!! 😮‍💨😍 So I hope you can forgive the late due date with almost 3K of Bagginshield...where I couldn't use Thorin's name! 🤣 So without further ado...

Pairing: Bagginshield

Warning: Blood/Gore-ish

Words: 2638

“Back again, Mr. Baggins?”

Bilbo whirled around to see the nurse at the desk smiling sympathetically at him. It honestly only made Bilbo feel more pathetic as he played with the stems of the flowers he carried. Three days ago, he had done everything he could to help keep a John Doe alive in the back of his ambulance, and still he couldn’t get the comatose patient out of his mind. His cousin, Siggy, was right. He needed help. Or at the very least a vacation.

“You caught me.” He laughed nervously. “No one’s claimed him yet, have they?”

She shook her head sadly. “No, but he did wake up last night briefly! Dr. Greyham is very optimistic about his recovery.”

That was great news. Bilbo certainly hadn’t held much hope when they found him. Bloodied and beaten in an alleyway, responding to a good samaritan call hours after what they presumed to be a mugging. His pulse had been too low, and with the severity of the head wound, Bilbo had been afraid they wouldn’t find much brain activity. If he was in fact waking up though, it did make Bilbo’s visits a bit more awkward. 

“Go on in.” The nurse encouraged. “He may appreciate having someone to talk things out with.”

Bilbo nodded and thanked her as he worked up the courage to enter. His relief was palpable when he saw that the man was still asleep. Just as he had been, Bilbo set his flowers in the vase next to his bed before taking a seat in the visitor’s chair. The man had gorgeous dark hair that was starting to get oily at this point. Bilbo knew he had been subjected to sponge baths for sterilization, but Bilbo mourned the lack of bathing for him. Luckily, they hadn’t had to cut much of his locks when they were stitching his head back together, but there would be a noticeable balding on the right side underneath all of the bandages. Bilbo hoped the man wasn’t too vain about his appearances to pitch a fit at that. Certainly Bilbo has treated plenty who were. The ‘saving their lives’ part falling secondary almost immediately.

Bilbo finally heaved a sigh and pulled his bag of knitting equipment off his shoulder as he settled in for his usual monologue. The first time he had done this, he had felt quite silly and was afraid that the man would wake up at any time to tell him off. However, he has come to find it almost therapeutic, talking to someone who can only listen. 

“Well, Mr. Oakenshield. Not much to add on today. I finally got the last of those stubborn weeds out of my vegetable planter. Only I fear they will just return in a few days. With the rain we’ve been having lately, I wouldn’t expect anything less. You might be pleased to know that Detective Inspector Bard is looking into your case, but has yet to come up with any definite answers to who hurt you. Well, maybe he has. It’s not like I’m privy to police investigations after all. And well, let’s just look at your chart here…oh this is promising! 

Dr. Greyham says that you are showing massive improvement. If you can ever finally pull away from this nasty coma, you shouldn’t expect any lasting damage. That’s quite lucky. Just last week my partner and I responded to a man who had gotten himself crushed under an air conditioning unit and…well I’ll spare you the gory details. Let’s just say that he won’t quite have the motor functions he used to.

I can imagine this is very good news to you. I’m mean, I’d hate to assume, but I’d imagine you enjoy spending time at the gym. After all, nobody your age looks like…that is to say you’re very…oh what the hell, you’re probably about the fittest person I know Mr. Oakenshield. Of course, even though Theo and Hamfast and Siggy all think that’s why I keep coming to visit you, it’s not. You see I’d quite hate for anyone to wake up alone after an ordeal like yours. I’d do it for…any John Doe you see, but I must admit there is something about you that I’m quite…AHH!”

Bilbo jumped out of his chair, dropping his knitting on the bed, as he backed up with a hand over his heart. The man blinked his drowsy, but confused bright blue eyes at Bilbo as if trying to make sense of him.

“I’m so…so terribly sorry.” Bilbo explained breathlessly. “This must all be rather confusing. Let me introduce myself. I’m Bilbo Baggins, I’m the paramedic who worked on you after we found you in that alley.”

“Alley?” The man repeated roughly as if the word were foreign to him.

“Um, yes. Let me just call your doctor real quick.”

Bilbo moved to press the ‘assistance’ button above the man’s head, when his hand snaked out to grab Bilbo’s arm. He felt himself gasp, both at the speed of the reflex and the tightness of his grip. No loss of motor skills, that was for certain. The man mumbled something to him, but it was in a completely different language. Bilbo felt his heart sink. He hadn’t accounted for this. The man was a tourist? That might explain why no one had come for him yet. The only problem was Bilbo was quite sure he didn’t speak whatever language the man was muttering in as it wasn’t Westron and certainly not Sindrian.

“I don’t…understand.” He breathed slowly. “Can you…understand me?”

The man furrowed his brows together before he slowly nodded his head. That was good! He was bilingual at least. Bilbo thought it was best to start with the basics.

“Can you tell me your name?”

The man opened his mouth only to close it and open it once more. After that, a look of horror crossed his face, and Bilbo’s attention was grabbed by the spiking heart monitor.

“No, no! It’s okay.” Bilbo rushed. “This is totally common for an injury like yours.”

Instincts took over, and Bilbo grabbed his hand in comfort as he slowly tilted his chin towards him looking for signs of a concussion. His pupils were certainly dilated and when Bilbo asked him to follow his finger around, it definitely seemed conclusive. Concussions and short term amnesia would be common with this type of injury.

“We’re going to start slow. You don’t remember your name right now, and that’s okay. What do you remember?”

The man took a deep breath as his eyes turned towards the ceiling. Before he could say a word though, there was a knock at the door. It didn’t seem unusual until Bilbo’s gaze fell upon the dry erase board next to the door. The John Doe wasn’t due for check-up for another hour, and Bilbo’s finger never made it to the assist button. Bilbo got up cautiously when his arm was grabbed again, but this time the man’s eyes were wide with panic.

“I remember someone was trying to kill me.”

Cold seeped into Bilbo’s chest as his heart thumped along to the adrenaline surging through him. Bilbo barely had a chance to say anything when the door was forced open. After that, it was like a scene from an action movie. Bilbo was thrown over to the other side of the bed as gunshots rang through the room. Cutting through the mattress that had previously been occupied. Bilbo instinctively covered his head, screaming over the noise, managing to wrench his eyes open just enough to check on the other man. What he saw, stunned him to silence. 

The man was calculated, calm, and seemed to be running off pure muscle memory as his eyes remained wild and afraid. When the gunfire stopped for a moment, the man leapt into action. Taking one of Bilbo’s knitting needles, he shoved it through the throat of the assailant reloading his pistol, using him as a human shield against the second one as he barreled into him. Using his own gun to shoot him in the head. In seconds, Bilbo had gone from thinking he was certainly going to die, to staring at two gruesomely murdered bodies. The man certainly wasn’t done there. He poked his head out into the hallway only to curse and close and lock the door. He looked through the pockets of the dead men on the floor for another clip that he loaded into the gun in his hand with an ease that made Bilbo realize he was dealing with some sort of professional.

“Clothes.” He barked.

Bilbo raised his hands above his head slowly. “C-Clothes?” He repeated.

The man growled before pulling at his hospital gown with impatience.

“My clothes?”

Bilbo pointed at the cabinet behind him. As soon as the man spun around, Bilbo made a mad dash for the door. Before he could reach it, he was pushed up against the wall and held there by the deranged man.

“There are three more out in the hallway ready to kill the first thing that comes through that door. Do you want that to be you?”

Bilbo shook his head rapidly.

“Then help me get out of here.”

“Who are you?” Bilbo gasped after he was released.

The man had his back turned to him as he stripped down to nothing pulling on his bloodied and torn clothing from days ago.

“I don’t remember.” He grumbled. 

“So how do I know I can trust you?”

“Considering the ease I just killed those guys, if I wanted you dead, I would have already done it.”

That was a rather grim, but valid point. 

“Let me ask you something. Earlier, when you thought I was still asleep, you called me ‘Oakenshield’. Why?”

Bilbo could feel his mouth go dry at the question before pointing to the pin on the man’s chest. It seemed to be a coat of arms; only one of the symbols on the shield was an acorn. The man looked down at it as well, his face betraying some amusement. However, he didn’t deign commenting on it as he moved towards the pocket door that was shared between rooms. 

“Don’t you think they’ll be waiting for you?” Bilbo asked.

“Only one way to find out.” The man explained before opening the door, pushing the heart monitor through it, and immediately closing it. 

There was a shout, the sound of feet running towards the room, and more gunshots. The man quickly closed the door again before he or Bilbo could get hit before moving towards the outer door. 

“Go! I’ll cover you.”

Bilbo didn’t have to be told twice as he raced for the stairwell hoping to find safety from this nightmare. He felt the bullets whizzing by before he heard them, and was definitely aware of the man returning fire as he followed after him.

“Only three!?” Bilbo complained throwing himself down the stairs.

“So maybe four!”

They went down a floor, but rather than keep going, the man shoved them into the door for the ER. It was utter chaos as doctors and nurses were trying to secure and placate patients and guests alike. 

“This way.” The man urged, pushing Bilbo through the throng of people trying to get out. 

They found a break room and shoved their way inside. 

“Are we just going to wait here until the police get here?” Bilbo asked hopefully.

He could tell from the stern look he received that was not going to be the case. So what Bilbo was learning was this man had assassin level skills and didn’t trust the police. The situation he found himself in was looking bleaker by the second.

“Paramedic? Right?” The man questioned holding out a jacket with the hospital’s logo on it. 

Bilbo had a sneaking suspicion the plan the man had was going to get him in a heap of trouble. Sure enough, seconds later found him pushing a gurney through ER to the doors on the other side.

“Sir! Just where do you think you’re going?” Bilbo was stopped by a frantic nurse.

Bilbo flashed his ID. 

“Ma’am, this is a comatose patient of Dr. Greyham that can’t be off life support for more than twenty minutes. I’m supposed to get him in a bus and to Tuckborough Medical ASAP. Doctor’s orders.”

She hesitated before nodding, going as far as to call in the ambulance for him. Bilbo was going to have to remember how much he owed the staff at Hobbiton General another time. As soon as Bilbo had the man loaded up, he pulled away the sheet and climbed into the passenger seat next to Bilbo.

“Okay, you gun wielding, knitting needle stabbing manic! I have done everything you asked. I’m most likely going to lose my job for this if they don’t see fit to throw me behind bars. So you better have something you can give me or I’m pulling over at the next police precinct.”

The man grimaced. “I told you. I. Don’t. Remember. I just know they are the bad guys. And they want me dead.”

Bilbo gave a little sarcastic laugh and head tilt. “Oh, great.”

“There is one more thing.”

Bilbo slowly looked over at the man as much as he could without crashing the ambulance.

“It only started to kick in when you called me ‘Oakenshield’, but I was…protecting something…or someone.”

“That’s…vague.” Bilbo complained.

“But this…” The man sighed with impatience before pointing towards the pin on his chest. “Is the clue. It’s the coat of arms for the royal family of Erebor.”

“Erebor?! Like halfway across the world Erebor?”

“Really? Halfway across the world? Where exactly am I?”

Bilbo drew in a shaky breath starting to finally hit the point of ‘too much’. It’s funny. One would think that moment was…oh, about fifteen minutes ago with all the shooting. The other man seemed to realize it as well.

“Look, I’m sorry. You’ve been very kind to me and if you want me to…walk away, I wouldn’t blame you. I just feel like if I’m able to retrace my steps, I’ll find out what was so important it was literally worth dying over.”

“This isn’t a spy movie. You could just be patient and let the healing naturally take over.” Bilbo suggested with a huff.

“Judging by our friends back there, I don’t think I have that kind of time.”

Bilbo looked over at the man one more time. That lost look that has been in his eyes since the moment he woke up was still there. And despite everything he’s seen, everything he’s experienced that should have him running for the hills, Bilbo really wanted to believe him. And help him if he could.

“Alright.” He sighed. “I’ll show you the alley where I picked you up. But after that, I’m done. And if I get picked up and questioned by the cops, I’m telling them the truth!”

“Fair enough.” The man shrugged. “But could you do me one more favor?”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow.

“Could you stitch this bullet wound in my side?”

Bilbo cursed at the red staining the man’s dark shirt as he pulled over to the side of the road. 

“I expect to be billed for all the times I have to play ‘personal physician’ because I can’t imagine this being the last time.” He complained.

The man let out a roaring laugh that had Bilbo’s cheeks warming all the way to the tips of his ears. This was very not good. It was bad enough when he had a crush on his comatose patient. He had no idea how to handle falling for this bodyguard/assassin/psychopath. Jury was certainly still out on which one he may turn out to be.

[capn-twitchery]

Let's go failure for Twitch and Torture for Grace

failure: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?

does getting the wrong memories and escaping alone instead of with other captives from the honey gardens count as a failure??? hm. they weren't entirely twitch at that point yet so maybe it doesn't count. plus it wasn't really their fault

so another big failure instead! ssea's sigil ridden eaten navigator! twitch met siggy back in their early piracy days & recruited him because he was a damn good navigator & twitch was curious about him. he's quiet but i think they got on well

it happens like it does in ssea: he's missing memories because of the correspondence tattoos, and when he asks his captain to help recover them, he feels so guilty about what he learns that he asks to be put on an island and forgotten forever.

but twitch had a better idea!

take him to kingeater's, surgically remove the bad correspondence sigils, cut in new sigils to make him forget what he doesn't need. they've seen something similar done before! and it means he doesn't need to leave for a miserable island. the ship's surgeon refuses to do it, but it's fine, twitch can do it themselves! it goes about as well as you could expect.

"The thing that follows you back to your ship is not the Navigator. But it has his skills, and his face (though the right half is blotted by the sprawling sigil). The crew edge away." [ssea ssource]

he's never quite the same after that, and neither is the crew as a whole. it takes a while for them to accept what happened (accept might be a strong word, though).

twitch keeps him around, of course, the weird shambling corpse of the guy who used to be their navigator,,,,they can't just throw him out after doing that to him. and he's still a damn good navigator

they were trying to help, in some way. in the weirdest way possible, but they were.

their other big regret is the ending of evolution. they think they made the best choice they could have-the naturalist didn't want to be the boatman. they couldn't have done that to him. so even if it ended in his weird, paradoxical nonexistence- letting him choose his own fate, in some kind of way, is the only thing that felt right to them

but fuck, do they miss him.

torture: Has your OC ever been tortured? Would your OC ever torture someone else?

and for grace...does torturing himself via guilt count-no, he's not been tortured! one tiny grace win, i think? 🎉

not that i know of, anyway. there's plenty of gaps in his timeline yet---

as for him torturing someone else...i don't think so? definitely not under any kind of normal circumstances. but i also don't feel like i can rule it out 100%. i don't know why though

whatever would cause that to happen, it'd have to be so, so extreme but i can't think of any specifics. that feels like something i'm gonna have to try and unpack at a later date, huh

asks from here!

[sapphicdib]

hey random thought but I was looking at the overseer description on the rain world wiki and it said that the green overseers only spawn in outer expanse and subterranean and that got me thinking

unlike spearmaster who had srs watching over them through the red overseer (until pebbles zap it outta existence) Hunter didn’t have any overseer watching over them

That means that Nsh wouldn’t know for sure if Hunter succeed in the mission because Hunter never made it back home, either succumbing to the rot or passing on through the void sea and Siggy wasn’t watching his cat unlike Suns

Nsh probably thought that once Moon wakes up, she could message the entire local group again however, Moon’s collapse left her in a state where she couldn’t communicate with the other iterators even after her revival

I mean, to cut slack for Nsh. Pebbles did put the entire region into lockdown (see five pebbles dialogue for when gourmand first enters the cann) so he probably couldn’t get in with Hunter but still

from Nsh’s perspective moon’s fate is uncertain. His hunter’s fate is uncertain.

Maybe he saw the little messenger going through subterranean which meant that Hunter probably succeeded. Maybe the last he has seen if his slugcat was before the Hunter entered the region and Hunter hasn’t returned home yet nor did Moon showed any signs of activity.

Maybe his plan worked and the keys were delivered. He wouldn’t know for sure…

basically all I’m saying is that Nsh feels like the person who would had definitely thrown more (hopefully non-cancerous) slugcats towards Moon instead of tossing Hunter and the angstiest option for why he didn’t was because he thought his plan fail as Hunter will never go home in the base game and Moon couldn’t communicate her revive

UGH YES!!! i hc that you can still see sig’s overseers sometimes in subterranean/outer expanse is because she’s still…well, desperately searching. at first for a sign of hunter, and then for a sign of moon when he realizes hunter’s probably not returning, or perhaps a way to get into the facility to see if his plan even worked.

part of the reason i think hunter was so sick is just because by the time sig made her, his facility wasn’t in the best shape, and he was rushing, desperate to save moon. in the note she sends her it literally says “excuse the unorthodox delivery method, equipment eroding etc etc”. i truly do not believe sig is “bad at making slugcats” or “didn’t follow suns’ instructions” because his dialogue PROVES THAT HE CAME UP WITH THE CONCEPT FIRST. (sorry that shit grinds my gears when ppl brush sig off as either stupid or malicious when it comes to hunter) because like…this mission is SO important to her. why the hell would he make hunter sick, therefore limiting her time to get to moon and possibly causing her death before she could reach her goal?

hunter’s last wish in the void sea is to be back in sig’s arms. if he were truly malicious/didn’t show respect for her messengers, why would hunter want to return? so yeah, seeing his overseer out in the outer expanse, searching for hunter or a sign of moon being alive just ;-;

i don’t rlly think she sent more messengers after that, mainly bc he knows any slugcats he makes after hunter will likely meet the same fate due to the erosion of her equipment/the fact he thinks “there will be nothing left of moon by the time one is ready”. sig just breaks my heart because she tried and tried and tried, reaching out as far as he could, and still never knew if his plan even worked. i’m gonna stop here bc if i keep talking i am going to be writing a goddamn essay that would be better than anything i ever turned in in university LMFAO i have so many goddamn Feelings about no significant harassment rain world.

also me n ghost are actually doing an rp that’s kind of like this lmfao, and in it the reason hunter gets sick is because sig basically works herself so hard she ends up damaging his structure and the sudden power failure/shutdown affects his experiments. (obviously that has no basis in canon and is more just us writing fanfiction about what could have possibly happened)

anyways after all that angst, here is a screenshot from my game where sig’s overseer showed up and sees moon bringing sluppy hunter home :’) in my dreams i can pretend she made it back LMFAO

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

ch. 9 — behat (to promise)

notes: timeskip of a few months! also, guysss so ummm i really hate the last two chapters i wrote so i'll have to scratch them and start again... but im also in the middle of some pretty important stuff so yah. sorry about that.

summary: alethia meets thorunn. athelstan and ragnar talk about ragnar, promises are made.

warnings: mentions of depression, ppd and other mental health issues, ragnar is a bit of a dick tbh

tagged: @levithestripper @demon-of-the-ancient-world @grantairescurls

series masterlist | general masterlist

Alethia

It was getting colder in Kattegat. The temperatures had dropped in the past week, and Alethia could not help noticing that the days were shorter as well. But, there was a prolonged sense of gentleness within the cold days. Aslaug had given Alethia proper furs, Ragnar returned an old sword to her. She looked as if she was back in Winterfell, right after taking the castle back from the Boltons.

Sometimes, her heart tugged when Alethia thought of the North. Kattegat was similar to it, though the people were not. When Alethia woke up in Athelstan’s longhouse, she sometimes thought that she was back there, in Westeros. The thought seldom filled her with distress.

Still, Kattegat was a place that she thought she could call home. And as word spread that she was taken, that she really was Athelstan’s woman, Alethia had the sort of automatic respect she never did receive in England. 

That morning, she was the first free woman to push into the Great Hall. A few thralls were already working, setting the table and cleaning the floors. Alethia felt guilty each time she met the eyes of any of them. She was saving money to free them, but she knew it was a pointless endeavor.

But she and Athelstan agreed that they would never buy a thrall, or make someone a slave.

Hvitserk bounced up to Alethia before she could see him, crashing into her. Alethia stumbled backwards, landing on her back, and Hvitserk giggled, hugging Alethia tightly. While she was supposedly just a guard to Aslaug, Alethia had quickly become caretaker to Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd. Aslaug was too preoccupied with Ivar, and Ragnar…

Alethia lost some respect for him each time she thought on the matter. His three middle sons exhausted her thoroughly every day. It was not her responsibility, and yet, Alethia reveled in taking care of them, just as she had with Clothilda, Godwin and John in England.

“Are we going to play today?” Hvitserk asked.

“Like always.” Alethia promised. Hvitserk took her by the hand, pulling her to the table. He was always hungry, always the first to eat. Alethia had given up on trying to teach him any tablemanners, not that the Northmen took those particularly seriously.

“What are we going to do?”

“I was thinking of taking you hunting. Your brother’s skills with a bow have improved considerably, and Sigurd loves climbing the trees in the woods.”

“But it’s cold!” Hvitserk complained.

“Your mother bought new furs from the merchant three days ago. I’ll bundle you up so you stay nice and warm. And if your brother shoots a rabbit, you could have stew for dinner. How does that sound?” 

Hvitserk’s eyes brightened at the thought of his favourite food, and Alethia smiled. While Ubbe was responsible, taking himself quite seriously for a boy of eight, and would no doubt make it his mission to provide for his brothers tonight. Hvitserk, however, was the sort of playful that reminded Alethia of Rickon and Arya sometimes.

He was a wolf-child. 

Alethia hoped life would be kind to him. She tried to make it as much as she could. 

And Sigurd… however little the small boy liked to admit it, he was the one that took after his mother most. Already, Sigurd was drawn to bouts of anger and frustration, the only thing seemingly able to soothe him being when his mother sung to him. But Aslaug did not do that often.

Alethia sighed, handing Hvitserk a bowl of porridge.

“Where are Siggy and Thorunn?” she asked.

Hvitserk took a bite, gulping down his food without eating, before he answered. “I don’t know. Thorunn was crying again yesterday. She’s always so sad.”

“Okay. Do you know where she is?”

“No.” Hvitserk said. “I don’t really like her. She looks scary.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“You also look like her, but you don’t scare me.” Hvitserk continued anyway. “You aren’t so gloomy all the time.”

“I’m about to be very fucking gloomy.”

Hvitserk giggled, smiling widely as he saw his brother trudge towards the table. Ubbe was wearing a frown, hands rubbing his eyes.

“What is it, Ubbe?” Alethia asked.

“Ivar was crying again. I couldn’t sleep.” Ubbe complained. He climbed the bench next to Alethia. It did not escape her that he leaned against her, his hand searching for hers. Her heart broke a little.

“I will try to find something to help your little brother. And we are going hunting today.” Alethia said. “Is it alright if Thorunn comes along? I cannot take care of all of you at the same time.” 

Hvitserk frowned. “She’ll ruin it. She’s like Sigurd when he’s angry.”

“Will she be crying?” Ubbe said.

“Maybe.”

“I want her to be happy. She is our sister-in-law.”

“That’s right.” Alethia smiled. “Good job, Ubbe.”

“Maybe we can just send her back if she is very sad.” Hvitserk suggested. “Then it won’t be so scary to take her along.

“I promise you, you will have a great day.” Alethia said. “You two finish dinner, and help Sigurd get dressed, alright? Make sure he eats too, and give him some pears for his porridge. Ask the thralls for more in case you finish all the fruit. It’s important he has some. Can you do that?”

“I can!” Ubbe said.

Alethia ruffled his hair, and the boy hugged her quickly, before he looked away. Hvitserk stared up at her from his spot at the bench, before a cheeky grin appeared on his face.

“I hope you’ve gotten better at archery since last time.” he said, sticking out his tongue. Alethia raised her brows.

“Careful little man, or I’ll have to eat all the rabbit stew in the world by myself.”

Hvitserk’s insulted gasp was the last thing she heard as she slipped out of the Great Hall again. In the center of Kattegat, around the Great Hall, merchants were setting up their stalls. Alethia took note of one merchant who displayed little trinkets. As she stepped closer, her heart skipped a beat. There, amidst mostly worthless playthings and souvenirs, was a small collection of coins with what had to be Chinese symbols.

Alethia bought one of them quickly. She slipped the coin into her pocket, turning it over in her hand as she walked. 

Perhaps she could hide it somewhere, with a message of some kind. Perhaps archeologists would find it in a century. Then, she would have been here.

No. It was too dangerous.

Alethia stepped up to Bjorn’s longhouse. She knew that Bjorn would be away. He had been sleeping at Rollo’s house for the past two weeks, taking Siggy with him. Thorunn was alone here.

She knocked. There was nothing, not a single sound from within the house, but still, Alethia waited.

She knocked again. And again, there was nothing. But then, Alethia caught a quiet sniffle.

“I’m coming in now.”

No response. Alethia opened the door slowly, but closed it behind her as fast as she could. Inside the longhouse, it was dark, but there was a rank smell that permeated the walls. Alethia lit a candle, walking towards Thorunn. The girl was a little younger than her, and so similar to Alethia in so many ways. Alethia thought that, maybe, she could understand her.

If anyone.

Thorunn was backed into a corner like an animal, and as Alethia raised the candle, she cowered away. Alethia sat down a few steps away from her, putting the candle onto the ground. Thorunn shielded the scarred side of her face, knees drawn up to her chest. All she was wearing was a shift, and that was crusted with dark red blood. It was around her abdomen, and so, Alethia guessed that it stemmed from some kind of complication with birth. She tried to ignore the smell, tried not to focus on the way that Thorunn’s hair had turned into a matted mess.

Had no one taken care of her, Alethia would have been the same.

“Hello, Thorunn.”

“Who are you?” Thorunn asked. “Are you real? Did the Gods send you to mock me?”

“I am real. I am Alethia.” she said quietly. “Athelstan’s woman.”

“The priest has a woman?”

“Now he does.” Alethia replied. “And you are Thorunn, right? Bjorn told me all about you.”

At the mention of his name, Thorunn looked away. “He does not love me anymore.”

“I think he does. I think he simply does not know how to handle… you.”

“I warned him about that when I was still a thrall. He didn’t get it.”

“Lothbrok men.”

Thorunn’s expression changed. It wasn’t a smile, not yet, but Alethia was getting there.

“Would you like to come hunting with me? I’m taking care of Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd for today. I hear you’re good with a bow.”

Thorunn eyed Alethia suspiciously. “Bjorn set you up to this, didn’t he? He wants me to feel better about myself.”

“I don’t know Bjorn very well. All I know is that he’s an angry young man with a babe he does not know how to care for. You said it yourself, you thought the Gods sent me to mock you. I came because…  I had a feeling we were similar.”

“You’re not a monster.” Thorunn whispered.

“And what makes you one?”

“Have you seen my face?”

“Have you seen mine?” Alethia countered. “You have done nothing that would make you a monster.”

“I abandoned my daughter.”

“Not yet.”

“I don’t want to take care of her. I’m scared I’ll mess things up.”

“Every mother is.”

“Do you have a child?” Thorunn asked.

“I lost mine.” Alethia admitted. “I have no child that came from my own body, but I have been raising those of others, those that are lost for many years.”

“Can you raise my daughter?”

“You can do that yourself.”

“I cannot.”

“Yes, you can. Whatever I do for those children, it is never enough. I am never quite right. That is because I am not truly a mother, only a stand-in. And I don’t want that for Siggy.”

“I cannot do it. Look at me! She’ll grow up afraid.”

“Because of what? That scar?”

“Yes!” Thorunn cried out. “Do you not see what we are? How ugly and deformed we look?”

“Rude.” Alethia mumbled. “But I am loved. I know it. And not in spite of my scar, but because it is part of me. Bjorn will love you with or without it.”

“How do you know?”

“Just a feeling.” Alethia replied. 

“And what if I don’t deserve it? He’s the son of Lagertha! He could have anyone!”

“Your beauty does not make you any more deserving of love.” Alethia countered. She shuffled closer, and took Thorunn’s hand. “And even if we are monsters, are we not still women? We feel pain just as we feel love, and hate, and anger, and happiness. We are human, and therefore, we love. Let them point fingers. Dare them in your defiance of holding your head up high. Therein lies strength some will never understand. Do not let them take your spirit.”

“Them?”

“Those that would tear you down. You are a fortress, Thorunn. It is alright to feel weak, to want to hide away and never see the sun again. But the sun is beautiful, Thorunn. Outside is beautiful. Life is beautiful, just as it is terrible. You have a daughter, and you have the chance to raise her in a way that she shall always feel safe and loved.”

“It is so much.”

“I know it is. I am not asking you to feel alright. All I am asking is that you come hunt with me and the boys today. Let me help you. Let Aslaug, and Bjorn, and everyone else help you. I know asking for that help is hard, and so I will do it for you. All you must do is accept.”

Thorunn withdrew her hand, hiding her face in her palms, and for a moment, Alethia was afraid.

“Alright.” she said finally. “But I do not know where to start.”

“I do.”

Alethia stood, her joints aching as she did, and she thought that she was getting old. How silly, considering that she was only twenty. The thought of it excited her. Growing old! She never really thought she would, not even when she had still lived in her time. A life beyond twenty seemed unfathomable, and yet, here she was. Living. Breathing.

She took the bucket that stood in the corner of the longhouse and carried it outside, filling it with water. Returning to the longhouse, Alethia opened the shutters to let some light inside. It took time, but the wooden tub filled with cold water. When it was full, Alethia helped Thorunn up. She ignored the smell, the blood, the dirt.

Thorunn sat in the water, and Alethia threw the shift into a corner with dirty bedding and molding food. While Thorunn scraped the dirt off of her skin, Alethia took to work with her hair. Slowly, the mats disappeared. They weren’t as bad as Alethia thought they would be, and she thanked every higher power that Thorunn was a blonde, and not a brunette, where her hair would have been thicker, and likely impossibly tangled.

Alethia wanted to shriek as lice crawled onto her hands, and her scalp felt itchy while she flicked them off, crushing them under her boot. Using a comb, Alethia tried to rid Thorunn of the rest of them. Finally, she handed the other woman a towel, letting her dry herself while Alethia set out new clothes.

When Thorunn was dressed, the sun was considerably higher in the sky, and she looked like she was going to be okay. Hopefully.

“We’ll take care of the house later, but the boys are waiting for us. It’s almost noon already, and they’re likely fighting.” Alethia said.

“Thank you.” Thorunn replied. “I don’t know if I…”

“It’s nothing. I had help as well.”

“Can we be friends?” Thorunn blurted out. “I don’t really have… friends. I don’t think Bjorn counts – he’s more than that after all.”

Her eyes were so wide as she grabbed Alethia’s hands again, holding them in the space between the two of them. For the first time since they’d met, Alethia saw Thorunn smile. It suited her. As Alethia looked at her, she felt like a girl again. God, how she loved that. 

“Yes. I would like that.” Alethia replied.

Thorunn linked her arm in Alethia’s, strolling out into the street as if she was alright, and Alethia felt her heart beat in her throat out of happiness. She had a friend! How she’d missed that.

And Thorunn looked like she felt the same way.

Athelstan

Ragnar sat on the beach, watching as Athelstan drew up the walls of Paris. When he looked at Ragnar, Athelstan knew that his friend was somewhere else in his mind. Somewhere where there were no children, no wives, no kingdom, only Ragnar and the boat.

Then, Ragnar hissed through his teeth. “Tell me about Paris.”

Athelstan rolled his eyes. Paris, Paris, Paris. Since they’d returned from England, Paris was all that Ragnar wanted to talk about. “Again?”

“Please?”

Athelstan shook his head, smiling lightly. “I only went there once.”

“Continue.”

“I was visiting a monastery in Frankia, right outside of Paris, and one day, the monks there took me to see it.”

Ragnar had closed his eyes. He looked like he was sleeping, but Athelstan knew exactly what to say so that he would pay attention again. “But what I remember more, is the beautiful women.”

He had a feeling Alethia would not have liked those words. Alethia. Athelstan wanted to disappear into his mind, but then, Ragnar leaned forward with so much interest that Athelstan had to continue. “I almost… questioned my vows of celibacy.”

“You never told me that part before.” Ragnar said. And then, a wolfish grin appeared on his face. “Speaking of celibacy…”

Athelstan sighed. “Yes?”

“You and her… hmm?”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Athelstan lied.

“She lives in your house. You have to have done something . Or did you get a second bed, you sad, sad man.” Ragnar teased. Athelstan considered his choice of words for a moment.

“What do you think?” 

Ragnar squinted, blue eyes disappearing momentarily. “Two weeks ago.”

Athelstan could not help but laugh, and Ragnar’s eyes widened. “You did not tell me?”

“The night we returned to Kattegat.”

“AND YOU DID NOT TELL ME?” he shouted.

“I thought it unimportant.”

“Next you’ll tell me you plan to make her your wife.”

“I am, actually. Planning it, I mean.” Athelstan mumbled. Ragnar’s eyes widened slightly, before he huffed.

“Why? Why bind yourself in such a way?”

“Because I love her.”

“I love Lagertha. And yet, I never should have married her.”

“You and I, Ragnar, we are not the same.”

“I know.” Ragnar replied. “Then you have my blessing. Though Kattegat does not have a church, so I do not know how…”

“She would refuse to marry me in a church. The Christian way, it binds her too much.” Athelstan shrugged. “It would have to be a Norse marriage ceremony anyway.”

“Good. Good. And now you have to tell me, what did you do when… you know?”

“Well, we uh…” Athelstan began. He knew he was reddening. At the same time, there was the warm feeling of satisfaction at the base of his stomach when he thought back to that first night. And all the nights that followed. “We did it, and then we did it again.”

Ragnar rolled his eyes. “You are such a Christian sometimes.”

“What is it precisely that you wish to know?” 

His friend’s eyes gleamed, and Athelstan regretted ever saying anything. “Has she ever gotten on her knees for you?”

Athelstan’s mouth turned dry. “I’m not- I am not answering that.” He stuttered out, and Ragnar laughed.

“I knew it. She’s corrupting you! My Athelstan, corrupted by some godless girl from England!”

“She is not from England.”

“No? Where then?”

“It is… complicated.” Athelstan sighed. “I suppose the land is comparable to Eastern Frankia.”

“Perfect. Then she’ll know how to help us with Paris.”

“Ragnar, no.” Athelstan said firmly. Ragnar froze, before he turned to stare at Athelstan.

“What do you mean, no?”

“Do not involve her in your raiding plans. Don’t. Do not offer her to plan it, to come to Paris, or to fight. I will not be your friend if you do.”

“You’re afraid she’ll die.” Ragnar mused. An itch of annoyance spread through Athelstan. Ragnar was being too unserious about this.

“No. I know her body would survive. But… if she goes to Paris, she will not come back the same. She has fought enough, Ragnar. And I suppose, in that way, you and her are the same. I know you take no joy in it anymore.”

“I am a Northman, of course I take joy in it.” 

“You do not have to lie to me, Ragnar. And I know I do not understand, but she will. You can talk to her. Many soldiers have.”

“What does she do with them? Some magic ritual? Or maybe she is a witch, and sleeps with them to wipe their memory and make them her slaves?”

“You’re trying to rile me up. You don’t believe in any of that.”

“Well maybe I do.” Ragnar said, raising his hands in mock defeat.

“Stop it.”

“Alright, fine. What does she do with them? Why do they go to her if not for… her womanly charms?”

“I hear she listens to them. Not that you need that, Ragnar. You talk so much anyway.”

Ragnar snorted, but Athelstan could see the emptiness behind his eyes. He knew that Alethia would be talking to him tonight.

Then, his friend scratched the back of his head, quickly changing the topics again. “So, marriage. What comes next? Children?”

“I haven’t thought about that.”

“But you want it.” Ragnar noticed. His eyes bore into Athelstan’s, and it felt as if he could read his mind.

“I do.” Athelstan said. There was something in his heart that ached when he thought of it. His own family.

“Perhaps your sons will fihgt alongside mine one day.”

“I want daughters.” Athelstan blurted out. “I want them to be like her, like Lagertha, like Siggy when they grow up. Like Aslaug and Judith.”

“Why?”

“Because they are stronger than we are.”

Ragnar paused for a moment, before he looked down at the sand. HIs hands dug into the ochre, disappearing below the surface that rippled like the ocean.

“If I do have a daughter…” Athelstan began. “I want to name her Gyda.”

When Ragnar looked up again, there were tears in his eyes.

Alethia

Thorunn was smiling by the time that dinner was being served by the thralls. Alethia watched as she talked to Aslaug, Sigurd tugging at her hand. Alethia was glad that she had gotten to help her. The look of deference slowly disappeared from Thorunn the longer she spoke to Aslaug, and, when Bjorn entered the Great Hall, trailed by Lagertha, who had Siggy in her arms, Thorunn did not turn away.

Alethia sighed with relief, picking up Hvitserk, who was attempting to fight Ubbe over her shoulder.

“If you want to hit your brother, try not to hit my head as well.” She told Hvitserk. He had the audacity to pout, crossing his arms before his chest.

“And why are you two fighting anyway?

Hvitserk only shrugged, stomping his foot to emphasize his point. Alethia tried to bite down the laughter that bubbled up her throat.

“He’s your brother, Hvitserk. I know Ubbe can be overbearing, but he means well.”

“Fine. I won’t hit him I guess.” Hvitserk complained. “I’ll play with Bjorn instead.”

When Athelstan walked into the Great Hall together with Ragnar, Alethia could not help but smile at him. Athelstan turned her way almost immediately, as if he was a dog that could sniff her out.

Ragnar followed Athelstan as he made his way towards Alethia, and now, Alethia was a little concerned. Ragnar never bothered talking to her.

“Hi.” Alethia said, and Athelstan hugged her without another word. He was uncharacteristically quiet, even for him. 

“He’s planning a raid.” Athelstan whispered in the hug.

“It’s okay. Thank you.” Alethia replied. She let him go, smiling amiably at Ragnar.

“Your sons are admirable hunters.” She said.

“I’d hope so.” Ragnar replied. His tone was so dry, so flat, so uninterested, that Alethia felt reminded of her own father.

“It wouldn’t hurt to take some interest.” She hissed. “They notice that, you know.”

Ragnar raised a brow, looking over to Athelstan as if they were sharing some kind of inside joke. Alethia was glad that Athelstan did not try to reciprocate his all-knowing smirk.

The king of Kattegat stared at Alethia a moment longer, as if he was trying to read her soul, eat her heart. Alethia tried not to look away as best she could, but when Ubbe tugged at her hand to gain her attention, Alethia did not care enough to continue their little contest. 

Ubbe was holding out a bowl of stew, filled with the prizes of their hunt today.

“Thank you Ubbe.” Alethia said. “Would you like to eat with me and Athelstan today?”

Ubbe nodded shyly, and Alethia patted the free space next to her. Athelstan sat, taking a bowl of stew out of the hands of one of the thralls. Alethia ate quietly, waiting until Athelstan had finished his quick prayer. It was the kind of domesticity they could only begin to afford.

Alethia’s hands found purchase in Athelstan’s and as she looked to him, she had a moment of peace between lifetimes of war. Athelstan was quick to kiss her cheek, before anyone could catch them in their little display. Alethia’s hand stroked his jaw automatically, and Athelstan smiled at her with such adoration that she thought she might die.

So much, for her. God, had there ever been a sweeter joke?

She ate her stew, and Alethia knew that, months earlier, she would not have tasted it. But there it was, and it satisfied her. She wasn’t hungry anymore.

There was a thought in the back of her mind, one that Alethia had not thought explicitly, but one she thought she’d known about for a while. She smiled at Athelstan, who did not know.

Later, Alethia helped Aslaug settle Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd down. The hunt had exhausted them, but they were brothers, and in such, always found a reason to fight. Aslaug had only a tired smile to spare Alethia as the three of them had finally fallen asleep. Ivar was still in Aslaug’s arms.

“Thank you.”

“I enjoy taking care of the boys.” Alethia assured.

“I meant Thorunn, and me. We did not want to ask for…” Aslaug began. “You have a place in my queendom.”

“And I shall defend it as if it were my own.” 

Aslaug smiled, nodding at Alethia as she made her way out of the Great Hall. It was starting to darken in Kattegat, and Alethia’s hand was never far from her belt. Athelstan’s longhouse was on the outskirts of town, where it became quiet. Alethia knew it was there not only because of the tranquility, but also because the forest reminded him of home.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alethia caught Ragnar, staring at her from afar. His eyes were unfocused, and Alethia knew he wanted something from her. Comfort, perhaps. 

In Wessex, Alethia would have opened her home to him. But Hagar had been nothing, had had nothing, and Alethia had used up all of her energy today already. She wanted to go home, to Athelstan. 

“Tomorrow.” Alethia called.

Ragnar jumped, as if he had not expected Alethia to speak to him. Then, he nodded through the fog that had to cloud his mind. Alethia closed her eyes, breathing out. Whatever Ragnar carried with him, Alethia knew it hurt. She had watched the king enough to know he felt about his crown the same way that Jon had. 

She did not feel guilty forgetting about that when she stepped into her and Athelstan’s house. 

And there he was, sitting at the desk, charcoal scratching over parchment.

“What are you drawing?” Alethia asked.

“You.” 

Alethia smiled, hugging Athelstan while leaning over him. She put her chin on his shoulder, her own face reflected on the parchment. It was her from a few days ago, hair still wet from swimming in the bay of Kattegat. Alethia knew that it would be the last swim she would take for a while. It was getting too cold for her to swim.

Winter was coming.

The thought of House Stark’s words no longer made her heart ache for Jon. There was the dull echo of a boy she’d loved as a girl, but no more. Not when Athelstan was right there with her.

Athelstan seemed to read her thoughts. “When it gets cold, we’ll be forced to spend more time inside.”

“The boys will be a lot.” Alethia sighed. 

“I was thinking… with all the time we’ll be spending inside,” Athelstan began. “Could you teach me? Your language, I mean.”

“Why?”

“I want to love you in your language.” Athelstan said. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before he pushed his chair back and stood in front of Alethia. There was a trace of fear in his eyes as he looked at her. 

“What is wrong?” Alethia asked.

“Nothing.” Athelstan replied. “Nothing at all. But, the truth is, my reasons for learning your tongue are more selfish than not.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I want to sing to my children in the language of their mother. If she’ll have me.”

Alethia’s mouth turned dry, and suddenly, her heart was beating in her chest. It was kissing Athelstan the first time all over again. “What are you saying?” she whispered. Athelstan’s hands grabbed hers a little more tightly, and he let out a shaky breath.

“Will you marry me?”

The sound Alethia let out was a half-laugh, half-sob, half-squeal. She threw herself around Athelstan’s neck, laughing. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you, and I’ll have you. Just as you are, speaking my language or not.”

Athelstan enveloped her, hands holding her tight, safe, warm. His lips brushed her cheekbone, dusting a kiss there where a scar split her face. Alethia felt loved.

[csigeoblue]

Amongst the Chaos - Finan x fem!Reader (The Last Kingdom fic)

Disclaimer: obvi don’t own any material for The Last Kingdom. I struggled with writing this or not cause I’m not usually good at period pieces so wish me luck 😆

______________________

The sound of many hooves and yells awoke you from your slumber unexpectedly setting your entire being on high alert and double as much once you saw Finan had not made it home yet. You sprung up out of bed and peered out the window to see the commotion.

Men on horseback dropping pieces of fire onto any houses close enough to their path.

You grabbed your knife as a last resort for protection.

As quickly and quietly as you could, you snuck out of the back of your house and said a prayer in hopes it would still be standing after this night. You had to find Sihtric’s brood and make sure they were all alright.

On the other side of the village, Finan jolted awake at the table he’d been drinking with Uhtred and Sihtric when he heard an arrow land close to him. To his surprise, it was on fire then he refocused and could hear the chaos going on around him.

His main priority was to find you and figure out what the hell was going on.

The trio quickly jumped into the fray outside. Swords clashing with the strangers dressed like Danes. The floor was wet from the rain earlier that night making it slippery as they fought.

“Y/n!” Shouted Finan.

“She’s not here. Must have gone after Sigeflead” Sihtric offered as he took his sword out of another man’s chest in order to keep moving. Finan grunted in acknowledgment as his opponent fell to his knees too.

“Aye she’s probably counting all your babes.”

It didn’t make him feel better to jest. You had grit that’s for sure but not a warrior by any means. You were a farmer through and through could grow anything anywhere with your skills. A gap in the path thru the fighting gave them enough of an opening to cover more ground and run to Sihtric’s just down the road in the direction the invaders likely came from.

You made it to Sihtric’s door and tried to catch your breath. The smoke in the air made it hard to see in front of you. For a moment you got caught up looking at the destruction around you when someone opened the door and pulled you inside by the collar of your night dress.

“What do we have ere, eh?” A man with a shaved head and dark look in his eye gave you the once over. To your surprise, this man had company… Sigeflaed and her four young children huddled in a corner. When your eyes met, she face hardened with a slight nod.

“Let them go. You only need one of us to have some fun.” You looked back at your captor hoping he’d consider it. He smirked at you and paused pretending to think it over.

Abruptly he threw you to the floor in the opposite direction of Sigeflaed. The fall hurt and your head bounced on the chair there but it was the perfect distraction.

“Siggy, now!”

Sigeflaed rushed the man from behind to throw him off balance as the oldest of the children led the rest outside. You slid your knife out of its sheath and slashed as quickly as you could towards both his ankles. With a shout, he threw Siggy out the open door and fell to his knees.

You stumbled onto your feet towards the door but he latched onto your ankle and pulled you down. As you went down you looked up and saw what you hoped was Finan’s figure in the distance.

“FINAN!”

His eyes widen as he saw you fall and call out his name. He shouted back “I’m Here!” and pushed himself faster to get to you when he saw the reason you fell. A man maneuvered himself over you and started choking you. Fínan’s blood boiled.

“Oi, get your hands off her”

He swung his sword around swiping at both forearms of your assailant causing him to loosen his grip on you. The man screamed in pain while you took deep panicked breaths gently soothing your neck. You kicked the man on the floor as Sihtric made a move to end him. Finan took you in his arms.

“Moh gra, I’m here.”

“Love, I’m alright.” Though it pained you to get the words out. You were grateful it was over.

[frankenjoly]

siglai + “i dont know where would i be without you”

and

siglai + “i wish i had met you sooner”

they can be two separate things or a mix/double drabble, whatever you prefer 🫴💕

I

“You know… I don’t know where would I be without you.” Sigma admitted, somewhat begrudgingly and more to himself than Nikolai. Or, better yet, they had spoken at Nikolai rather than to him; a way to get the message across while keeping some sort of distance. As comfortable as things were right then, they weren’t going to last, not when the jail plan was to be executed soon.

“Turned into a puddle after falling from the sky, why?”

Sigma didn’t find that funny, not at all. And despite being convinced of it, a small, evident laughter escaped from their throat almost instantly.

“I mean, yes.” After laughter there came a brief groan, as if trying to convey an ‘I can’t believe I did that’ more than evidently. “But that’s not the whole thing, believe it or not.”

“I believe you, Siggy, you’re just making me even more curious now.” In a matter of seconds, Nikolai teleported right beside Sigma, who scooted over a little to make room in the small couch they were now sharing. Not like proximity was uncomfortable, though.

“You’re giving me the only current shot I have at being free when this is all done, that’s worth something.”

II

“Wish I had met you sooner.” When Nikolai muttered those words, Sigma was instantly taken back to the last moment where they had been like that; only, now, the tables had more or less turned. 

Sigma had been sitting on a couch back then, and they were sitting on a couch right then too, except that time Nikolai didn’t have to join him; he had been cuddled up against their side the whole time instead, and seemed to have zero intentions of changing that in the nearest future.

“Oh, yes?”

“Hell, yeah.” He then buried his face on the crook of Sigma’s neck, partly peacefully and partly melancholic. While things had started to go significantly better for Sigma himself after getting away from Meursault, Nikolai’s situation had been… complicated, to say the least. “Things would’ve totally been different. Dunno if straight up easier, but different for sure.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed.” Sigma answered, in an amused tone which earned them a snort from Nikolai. Such a statement also made him wonder ‘earlier when?’, and even if not all possibilities were pleasant… maybe it could be a topic to worry about later.

(Also on ao3.)

[notjustjavierpena]

hey siggy! where do i begin? i discovered your blog today and i'm obsessed. i've made it about two-thirds of the way through hubby javi + wife reader series (got very little done at work today lmao) but it is amazing... it is hot, it is romantic, it is unbelievably sweet, it is the perfect escapism, yet somehow it explores really intense, heartfelt, and interesting themes so so so deeply and so well. how do you do it?! you are talented, that is how 😂 i'm sure i will be done with all their stories by tomorrow lol i'm also super impressed that you are able to jump back and forth in the timeline for these two, like go back to fill in the gaps. i'm glad you do because of some of these ideas you revisit are absolutely divine. there are so many little things in their journey i'm curious about before the kids and it's quite the feat you go back to revisit that! i love how down bad they are for each other but especially how obsessed he is with reader 🥹 i can't believe i didn't discover you sooner! i've been reading PP fics for a little over three months and it is truly not an exaggeration to say this is how i spend so much of my free time now lmao my roommates are always like... you are eyes are going to burn holes into your phone screen. and that will not be stopping anytime soon because now i have to work my way through the rest of your javi stuff, your joel stuff (which i'm SOOOOOOOO excited for), the marcus and frankie stuff. i will def read the lucien and ted stuff to because atp it's just the way you write that i love a lot. thank you for sharing your amazing storytelling gift with us on here, i look forward to reading the rest of your masterlist and anything else you share! have a wonderful week!

I've reread this a million times and am shocked that someone took the time to write me a message this long because of my silly stories. Whoever you are, anon, you made my whole life by writing this. I hope you took time to read my remaining works and I hope you enjoyed yourself. I can't even comprehend the praise that this is but thank you so much. It fuels my creative fire! For now, I reread and sniffle 💓💖

[caffeiiine]

Hmm how about 6 with siglai?

sorry for taking a bit long!! i hope this works :) sorry that its a little incomplete at the end, i wasnt exactly sure how to end it off.

“SIGMAA!! DOWN HERE”

Nikolai waved his arms around excitedly as he started to shout; the sleeves of his sweater falling as he waved.

“DONT FALL!”

Sigma shook his head, focusing on his foot placement, to get down the hill without falling.

Upon reaching the space, Nikolai enveloped him in a hug.

“you’re so slow, be faster next time!” he whined as he clung to Sigma, and attempted to pull him down to sit.

“anyways, lay down! look!” He began to point towards the dark sky as he laid down. a childish grin gracing his features. “since somebody took so long” he pointed an accusatory finger at the man.“I took it upon myself to rename the constellations!” He placed his hand to his chest, clearly proud of his achievement.

Sigma, as he adjusted himself to the ground, now laid beside Nikolai. He looked over to him with a curious, yet confused expression.

Nikolai turned his head over, clearly excited to explain just what he meant.

He turned his eyes towards the sky once again, this time pointing out a collection of stars in the shape of a squiggle. One Sigma had recognized as Cassiopeia.

“That’s a seagull!”

Nikolai looked over to Sigma, seeking approval. his mischievous grin widening.

“Cassiopeia”

Nikolai was not deterred.

“seagull!”

“Cassiopeia.”

“seagull!”

The shine in Nikolai’s eyes grew the more he insisted that Cassiopeia was, in fact, a seagull. Sigma sighed, grinning softly as he accepted his defeat.

“fine, seagull”

“yay!!”

“Now, quiz time siggy!! for the next one, i’d like you to guess!”

He pointed towards a group of stars that seemed to circle around the sky with a few outliers. Sigma quickly recognized that one as the Pegasus.

“Pegasus..?” he looked to the side for approval, half expecting to be met with none.

“Nope~!” Nikolai made a buzzer error sound, clearly having fun with his antics.

“…”

“..what is it then” Sigma asked. amusement and disappointment crept into his tone.

“hmm..~!”

“I say, it’s a big spider~!” He was clearly proud of his little observation.

“How is it a big spider?” Sigmas' tone was laced with curiosity, while keeping the mild displeasure in his voice. 

“you see, my dear sigma”

He pointed towards the stars.

“That’s the body, you see?” He pointed towards the group of stars forming a square.

“and those are the legs!” He waved his hands out towards the sky, similar to how one might reveal a grand secret to an audience of many. 

“So it's.. sideways?”

“yes! yes, my dear sigma~! you finally get it!!”

Sigma fell silent and began to observe the sky. He spotted the Little Dipper constellation and pointed it out.

“So then, what’s this one, you think?” He turned over to Nikolai, a small grin on his face. mildly curious to hear what he thought of this one. He waited for Nikolai to respond.

“hm..” Nikolai tapped his finger to his chin as if deep in thought. A smirk slowly took hold of his face as he started to giggle.

“hm?” Sigma cocked his head slightly to the left, waiting on an explanation. “what?”

Through horribly silenced giggles, Nikolai responded. “nothing- nothing- just, a trap for dos-kun~”

Nikolai could barely contain his laughter.

“a rat trap~”

“see?” He pointed once again, to enlighten Sigma with his vision. “see the box is the trap, and the string lures him in”

“rat trap~! Perfect for Dos-kun~!”

Sigma began to giggle as well once he understood. From their small place upon the hill, sounds of amusement could be heard from the various jokes they pulled from the stars.

The sky was beautifully dark that night, with stars glittering across the horizon. The crisp breeze carrying their laughter and words down the hill.

[poltergeistsoup]

Siggy for the Monster AU

Siggy was born to a werewolf mother and was raised communally by her and a pack of other werewolves

She pals around with a group of other biker werewolves and while she’s still very social, she doesn’t stray much outside the group because non-werewolves find her difficult to handle

On the night of a full moon, she has to shut herself in because when she transforms, she isn’t in full control of herself and runs the risk of hurting someone if they provoke her in some way by accident

She started developing a hoarding problem after her mother’s death and buries things in the backyard when she starts running out of space

When she meets Murdoc, she’s hesitant to let him see her flat and even more hesitant to let him near her around a full moon

Regardless, he offers to help take care of her whenever it comes around, since it stresses her out and she tends to wreck her flat in the process

Since Murdoc is often treated as monstrous for having to drink blood to survive, he doesn’t judge her. Although she doesn’t have to do the same, she understands it’s not something he can change, and tries to help him do so as harmlessly as she can.

Misc tidbits:

Some of her more animal-like behaviors come out closer to a full moon— she’ll reflexively get startled by her reflection thinking it’s another werewolf or have to really fight the urge to chase down a small animal

She likes 2D but 2D finds her annoying. She can be accidentally too rough with him and she says weird things like “I like your smell, if I found it on the ground I’d roll around in it!”

If 2D’s been in the ground for a few days and they want to check on him but can’t find where he’s buried, they’ll call her in to sniff him out and dig him up. He usually just didn’t want to get up yet

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

HEEEEYYY Can i also please request ANGST with Wolfram x reader with reader escaping in route with snake and bard and ‘sieglinde’

Reader tag teams Wolfram with the help of Bard, and before he attacks snake/‘siggy’ he and reader share a little dialogue mid fight (where it also seems like he’s going easy on reader… for some romantic reasons Mayhaps?) and reader speaks little German but just yells like “How could you?!” “She’s just a child!” “You crippled a little girl!”

Then maybe after his sacrifice he and reader slowly start to grow close again? MANY THANK.

MANY THANK TO YOU

when you're crying over this, remember: YOU MADE ME WRITE IT WITH MY OWN TWO HANDS

Your part in the plan to get Sieglinde to safety is because you care deeply about her, of course.

But it’s also because you don’t think WOLFRAM has the guts to point a gun at your head.

For some reason you have yet to fathom, the two of you started to bond while you and your master and friends have been here in Germany. As grumpy and rigid as he seemed, you thought there was something kind lurking under that. You wonder if he fooled you, too, with the way he showed you little glimpses of something like that.

Regardless, you’re sure he’d be fine being on even footing with just Bard. No qualms about shooting, swinging, punching, at him. At you, though? Everyone else has seen the way Wolfram looks at you. The quiet, borderline romantic moments you’ve shared.

There’s no way he could shoot at you without being indecisive, and that is exactly what this situation needs. The more you can distract him, the more times he hesitates to make a move, the more chance you have of getting Sieglinde out of this forest alive.

You’re not as comfortable with a gun in your hand as Bard is. The unfortunate truth is that the effect of this goes both ways; it’s difficult for you to aim your weapon at Wolfram. Even though you have this gun, you’re hoping to serve as a diversion more than anything. When all is said and done, as angry as you are with him, you don’t want him dead.

It wasn’t so long ago that you remember how he looked at you when you were laughing at something, as if suddenly it was the first time he’d ever heard a person laugh. Or when you woke up to him carrying you back to your bed, because you’d fallen asleep after reading to Sieglinde one night.

Your brain knows that you should be ruthless if you want to avoid the risk that he won’t let you leave with Sieglinde. Your heart, unfortunately, is very, very stupid, and still cares as deeply about this man as it does about her.

All you have to do is run and fire warning shots, enough to keep Wolfram’s attention so that Bard can set up something he thinks will stop this soldier. You’re more terrified than you’ve ever been in your life… and yet, your anger at his role in Sieglinde’s imprisonment carries you.

What was he thinking? Doesn’t he care about her? He must. He doesn’t treat her like some thing, he treats her gently.

So why? The lack of an answer gnaws at you more than anything.

This is not some emotionless warrior who wants to keep her locked away forever. What you know happened is at odds with what you’ve seen while you’ve stayed here.

You just don’t understand. Wolfram as a person embodies the concept of sweetness in simplicity. Has he just been pretending? Is he really some kind of… cold-hearted mastermind?

The explosion of Bard’s making snaps you out of your thoughts, and you think there’s no way that Wolfram could get up completely fine from it. Your gun falls from shaking hands, your heart violently hoping that he’ll stay down. Hoping that all of this is going to be over.

(You just pray he isn’t dead.)

When he emerges from the smoke with only a few scratches and singes, you can scarcely believe it. Your hands refuse to pick your gun back up, and instead you watch him tangle with your friend for what feels like an eternity.

It’s as if your whole world is spinning out of control. You thought you’d finally found someone who you might want to share your life with, someone kind who felt the same, then… he has his own secrets that have come to light, something you never could have expected. You feel betrayed for yourself, and you feel betrayed for Sieglinde who you’ve begun to view as a daughter.

And to make it worse, as betrayed as you feel, there is no part of you that wishes Wolfram to die. In fact, a very large part of you clings to the hope that he’ll repent, he’ll do something to be a better person, he’ll… turn into some fairytale prince.

You hate that your mind is even giving you the possibility of things working out. This is real life, not a story. The fact that you want a happy ending doesn’t make a difference to what’s actually going to happen.

What’s real anymore, anyway? Were his feelings real? Anything he said to you? Was the way he looked at you and said he could see “so many colors” real?

In the blink of an eye, Wolfram has broken away from his battle with Bard, and you have precious few seconds to keep him from going anywhere. The more time you can give everyone, the better. You don’t know what you intend to do without your gun, but you rush forward to stop him anyway.

Your bare hands clash against his shoulders, your whole self trying to hold him back. He can’t do anything to you. The way his eyes flash at you in surprise spell it out for you if there was any doubt: unlike Bard, you are someone Wolfram isn’t willing to hurt.

Too bad you’ve already done that by lying to me.

“How could you?!” Your voice comes out shrill, too high, and you realize it’s because you’ve started to cry. This whole situation has become too much. Although you’ve been learning German from being here, you don’t know how to accurately express every bit of your rage and pain without doing it in your native language.

It’s awful and raw and you hate it. Obviously you didn’t get a chance to really talk with Wolfram about anything, so it all comes out in the way that a pot boils over.

Much as you push against him, you know you’re getting nowhere. He’s solid muscle, too strong for you to make a dent in keeping him in place. Still he struggles against you, as if your force is doing anything.

He acts as if you’ve stabbed him when you start to pound at his chest and shoulders. His eyes widen, reflecting the betrayal that you’ve been feeling this whole time. “You helped them cripple her and keep her here!” you continue to shout, your soul leaching out into every word. “She’s just a little girl! How could you?! How could you?!”

That seems to be all you can say.

You need him to tell you. You need this all to make sense, because it doesn’t.

You’re not sure where exactly you fail, but all you know is that you do.

He gets by you, he discovers that you’ve tricked him too, and the rest of your plan goes off without a hitch.

Right up until Wolfram ends up getting shot.

You don’t know if it’s better or worse that it isn’t you who shot him. It comes right after he’s started to beg Sieglinde’s forgiveness, and whatever else is true, you don’t want to lose him.

The last thing you do, before Sebastian drags him under Ciel’s order onto the train, is to scream Wolfram’s name and collapse at his side.

Life proves, once again, that it is no fairytale.

The train ride is long and torturous. You’re not sure when you stop crying, only that after several moments, Sebastian escorts you away from Wolfram and Sieglinde so you can calm down.

You don’t really calm down, though. Not until you’re well settled into your lodgings for the night. That comes with the added benefit that a doctor has looked at Wolfram, courtesy of your host Diedrich.

He’s going to be fine, most likely, and Sieglinde was taken in to speak to him. You’ve been nervous to do so; after all, you remember saying and thinking some terrible things to him. Even though his role in what happened to Sieglinde can’t be erased, there’s no denying that he loves her.

He knows what he did was wrong. He was willing to die just so that she would know the truth. If you think of her as your daughter, she was his first.

You slip into the room quietly, lowering yourself down onto the bed. You think your heart is much less stupid than before… at least, not stupid for caring about him. All of this is so complicated, and you can’t just call him a bad man when it seems he’s as much a victim of his superiors as Sieglinde.

“I don’t know,” you muse, reaching to run a hand through his hair, “a scar or two would suit you. But I’m also glad you’re probably going to escape without any.”

A puff of air is blown through his nose, that strikes you as the closest to a laugh he can muster up right now. He mutters something in German that you don’t quite catch before switching to English. “Scars are ugly. Would suit me very nice.”

… God, that’s not what you meant at all. This poor man. “No, scars aren’t ugly. And neither are you. Not inside nor out. What you did was very brave. Thank you for making sure our girl knew the truth.”

Your hand traces down from his hair to gently cup his cheek. “I’m sorry that I didn’t understand.”

“No… you understood. Not all, maybe, but you understood.” He shakes his head, though his expression clearly shows he’s melting into your touch. “I’m sorry. For lies, and… everything. Hurting you and Sieglinde… makes me very bad. It was the thing I never wanted to do, but… I did it.”

You lean over, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “… You’re not a bad person, Wolfram. You made a mistake, you did bad things, but you are not a bad person. You know it was wrong, and you’ve apologized, and you’re going to try to do better. Aren’t you?”

He looks almost like that kiss hurt him. As if it was something so new, so pleasant, that it was actually painful. “Ja. Better. Old Wolfram was shot and died. From now, I will be someone different.”

“Well, not entirely different, no?” You reach to set your hand, lightly, atop the injury on his wrist. “The old Wolfram was the one I fell for, after all. Maybe just be a better version of yourself than someone different.”

His face colors, a light pink dusting over his cheeks. “(Name)… you still want… me?”

Your fingers twine carefully around his. “Yes. I still want you. And we’ll figure everything else out, as long as… as long as you want me, too.”

“Bitte.” His hand squeezes yours. “More than I have wanted anything.”

Maybe life isn’t a fairytale.

But somehow, you think you might get a happily ever after anyway.