#god bless him for bringing back his beard

[nicoscheer]

[bloodygnqv]

Oh Say Can You See

John Price x fem reader

cw: smut!! minors dni!, size difference (reader is described as small but dw there’s no infantilization), uuuh i think that’s it??

A/N: fuck the national anthem it’s a lana song. it’s been a while since i’ve written smut hope you enjoy anyway bless you all xx 🙏🏻

“Are you okay, love?” John asks you from where you’re laying on your side.

He’s all warmth and comfort, musk and tobacco and leather, a stark contrast between the feminine fruits and spring flowers and candy you enjoy wearing.

His voice is a quiet rumble, the crackle of a fireplace, the roar of an engine, the step on snow.

“Mhm, yeah,” you reply, sleepy and pliant, “Just really missed you.”

John lays on his side as well, cuddling you from behind. He’s always been the bigger spoon, arms and hands so large, so strong he can fully wrap them around your waist, cup your breasts in his palms, keep you to himself. His greed for you and your affection lodges in his throat.

You can feel him hardening against your back, and you stifle a small smile. “Go ahead, John, I’ve been waiting all day,” you whisper, your own desire sparkling in your belly, black milk and rose red and the veil of longing.

“God, you’re soaking. That needy pussy just needs some attention, huh?” His fingers slide against your slit gently as you whimper an affirmative and lift your leg a bit to give him access.

“I can take you, John, really, you can just slide in,” you mumble, stroking at his thigh greedily.

“Are you sure, sweetheart? You’re so small and I haven’t prepped you, you know it might hurt…”

Concern laces his voice like poison ivy. It almost makes you melt — he’s always been like this from the moment you two got together, soft care and love so strong it almost suffocates you.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I played with myself earlier..”

“Okay then,” he permits. He taps the head of his dick over your pussy, still not going in, syrupy whines escaping your throat.

And then his cock notches at your leaky entrance, slowly going in, and every little nag and annoying pesky thought hide somewhere in the back of your head.

“Oh,” you gasp and look down to where you two are connected.

John isn’t very long, but he’s thick, thick enough that you feel the stretch every single time you have sex. He carves out a place for himself in you, Galatea and Pygmalion, gentle marble across your legs (his large hands completely envelop the expanse of your thighs, leaving galaxy marks in his wake).

“Yeah,” John breathes, heavy, grunting out a response, “That’s it. Almost there, love, you can take it. Shit, you’re tight…”

You mewl, hands scraping for purchase against the duvet as he runs his fingers through your hair, his beard tickling your neck, whispering cotton candy filth in your ear. You know he’s already pushed in as you feel his heavy balls snug against your ass.

“There you go. Feels good, eh?”

“It does,” you whimper. There’s the slightest touch of too much, tiniest specks of pain, but they’re quickly chased away by the time John starts thrusting lazily. You’re not gonna last long, and if John’s satisfied grunts are anything to go by, he isn’t, either.

You grab his thick arm from where it’s perched over the gentle curve of your waist, delicate wrist teasing the underside of his palm and intertwining your fingers.

You’ve never felt more at home. You’re exactly where you need and want to be, ballad-like moans and late comfortable nights, devoted eyes and lust as a virtue. John’s filling you up just right, quenching the thirst that has simmered in you all day, pushing you off the edge.

John’s other hand reaches around and starts playing with your clit, just enough pressure in circles to bring you over the edge. He always goes the extra mile when it comes to expressing his love through pleasure, making your legs shake, newborn fawn, you are, seeing constellations and new planets beneath your eyelids.

“I’m gonna cum,” you murmur.

“Go ahead, baby. I missed you so, so much, my beautiful girl,” John rasps, peppering small kisses on the canvas of your neck.

There it is — the explosion of feeling and love and pleasure in your tummy, crawling down your legs and up your arms, making you moan and fist the sheet under your body.

Your orgasm pushes John to the edge, and you can feel his spend spilling in the crevice of your cunt, loud groans echoing in the corners of your ears, arms tightening around your small frame. That’s his favorite place to cum in, warm velvet around him, all that love that burns like a motor in his skin.

John pulls out slowly and lovingly cleans you up as your consciousness slips away from you. It’s been a long, long day, and the great sex is but your favorite way to release tension and put you in that space between wake and sleep.

The afterglow sneaks its way in your vein as you lay across John’s thick, hairy chest and close your eyes. This is your favorite time of day, all warm and snug and happy.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

His caress always feels like a blanket, a balm to soothe your wounds, a hazy morning dream you don’t want to wake up. It makes you all the more grateful, lying with the man you love in a space you two made.

[cyborg-franky]

Can you make a HC about what they do when Luffy is King of Pirates, the One Piece is found, Mystery of "D" resolved and so on? I mean if they stay Pirates, settle down, marry or do another profession. 👀 When there 35 plus or older. Please with Zoro, Sanji, Law and Kid 😍

Ooooh how fun! I did a bunch of chars including the ones you wanted : D

Sanji Sanji finds the all blue and makes his own floating restaurant. Luffy always comes to visit and always eats him out of house and home. Sanji has long hair he keeps in a ponytail, and he has a beard he keeps in a braid, just like his old man [Zeff <3] Sanji is tough love with teaching his chefs but they all love and respect him. He’s married to his work and also every pretty person who steps foot in his restaurant. He calls it ‘The All Blue’ and he charges people with alot of money but helps out those in need. Thanks to Luffy being not just the pirate king but also a yonko his place is considered untouchable by the marines and thus everyone can come and eat here fearlessly with no worries. 

Zoro He’s the greatest swordsman in the world. He never leaves Luffy’s side, always sailing the high seas with his captain. When he does eventually settle down he gets married, and everyone is invited, even Sanji. He runs his own dojo now in Kuina’s memory, he teaches kids how to fight. He doesn’t turn away people who are female-bodied/identify as girls because he knows how strong they can be and would never play the sexist card. Everyone who trains with him are equal and valid. He would teach his own children how to fight too. He’s a firm but fair teacher. He still has that short mossy hair of his, maybe he’s got some ink now.

Nami Fame, wealth, power! Some say that’s just for the Pirate king, but Nami would disagree, Nami has everything she’s ever wanted. She sends back loads of money to her home island which have repaired all the damage that the Arlong Pirates ever did. They become a thriving community. She even makes sure there is a lovely orphanage, in memory of Bellmere with orange trees all around where young women can grow and learn skills and become strong and anything they want to be. Nami gets her short hair back.

Robin and Franky Together, but not married. Neither wants to get a piece of government-approved paperwork to say they are married. Robin can piece together all the mysteries of the world, the void century is her’s and she passed on everything she can to her students. She makes sure the next generation of the world will remember everything that happened both good and bad and as long as there are people alive who know what happened, who have seen the devil and god history can avoid repeating itself. Robin has her bangs back, and wears her long, long hair in a braid. 

Franky becomes a teacher himself! He passes on the amazing shipwright skills he learned from Tom to anyone who wants to come and learn from him. Both are a blessing to the generations after. Maybe Franky has toned down his look a little and he’s more like he was in pre-skip? 

Brook Still a hecken popular musician who is going around touring, loved by many, and as long as his music keeps touching people's hearts and he always has fans, he won’t ever truly be alone. He obviously reunites with Laboon too!

Jinbei Retired, living his best life back at Fishman Island, and has a spouse now. He keeps an eye on Fishman island though there is nothing but peace. After all the island and his people are protected by the pirate king himself.

Usopp Usopp goes off and becomes a pirate captain himself! But it doesn’t last very long, it’s just not the same so he retires and goes into writing books. He writes stories of all his fantastic adventures and inspires the hearts and minds of many young people who all want to be pirates. He also takes up art as a more serious profession. He writes and does his own artwork. Usopp’s Fables. Maybe he goes back to his village, him being a famous writer brings good things for the sleepy village.

Chopper Goes back to DRUM and helps the people, bringing back doctors to the island. DRUM once again becomes well known for how amazing its doctors are. He’s a good teacher for those wanting to be in the medical field.

Luffy THE PIRATE KING HIMSELF? Every night is still a party, he only settles down when the last of his crew wants to seek their own fortunes. He visits them all. Spending his time traveling between them and going on adventures. He never truly settles down. Just married to his love of life. 

Law Still a pirate, still with his crew because they are and always will be his family. He did everything he set out to do, take people down, and get revenge, he didn’t ever see his life past Dressrosa to start with so everything is a bonus. The only difference is now the heart pirates have less of a reputation for their captain being scary and cruel but the best place to take anyone with a rare illness. He specializes in learning about them and healing them. Totally rocking more tattoos everywhere and a ponytail maybe. Or an undercut…

Kid IGNORING CANON Him and his crew are still an issue for the world government, even in their 30s, 40s, hell even when they're 70 they are wild and causing chaos all across the world. Kid loses his violent streak and is just out here with his boys having the time of his life. Maybe he has a partner or two, he and Killer going polyam at last.

Marco Marco even at like 80 still looks younger, still a doctor on Sphinx but this time he’s not so honour bound to the memory of Whtiebeard and Ace. He sometimes leaves the island to go on adventures. He visits his partners, finally allowing himself to date again. He becomes a vet as well as a doctor, helping out people on islands he visits while seeing his partners. He’s enjoying his retirement, he has so many people in his life again that it heals his heart. Still, he aches for everything he’s lost, he always will but now he’s not shackled by it.

Sabo Thanks to his efforts and the RA the world is a more equal place, he makes sure of it. Aside from all of that. Maybe Sabo has a partner, maybe he’s allowed himself to have a few kids that he raises to be good and just and to never see the world as black and white but all the greys that the world is built up of. Making sure the next generation has a strong sense of their own justice. Sabo also wrote a huge book documenting Luffy’s travels after listening to his brother tell the stories over and over. The book becomes the legend of the Pirate King. The story inspires another era of pirates.

[underscorewriting]

Hello !

How are you doing?

Could you make a one shot where your the ragnarsons little sister ( your 5 yrs old and ragnar and a witches daughter ) and they don't know you exist but you come with bjorn from a raid and you meet them andyou just capture everyones heart .

And you give hope to the people of kattegat because you are a powefull witch and they think you are a god

Maybe they find out your powers when you save someone from death with your powers?

Thank you!

Oh my god, I love that idea!! Sorry that it took me sooo long to write this, but here it is now!! ^^ I kinda changed it a bit, hopefully you don't mind too much!! :)

The lost daughter

Brother!Ragnarssons x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Sigurd being a dick, Angst?

Words: 2.414 (think this one's my longest story!!)

Emotions were all she ever knew. Bad ones, painful ones. She didn't understand why she felt them so intense, whenever something happened. People usually got hurt very badly if she got upset. A little girl that could kill people in the most torturous way possible, without even having to move a single finger or having the thought in mind.

The town she lived in always said that her "witch" of a mother was the reason behind this cursed child. They tried hurting her but she ran, she ran straight into a group of men. No not just men, women were there too. Women she couldn't help but stare at. None of the people in her town looked like them.

Her town was called Wessex, rumors were that in the earlier years, vikings have already been there, even had a deal with the great king Ecgberht. But that was years ago, way before the little girl was even born.

The man in front of the group smirked slightly before he leaned down to her height. "Now who might you be? You wouldn't know where a witch named Meredith lives, would you?" The man studied her features, each one identical to her mothers, except the ocean blue eyes. A feature left from her father.

Taking a step back she tripped over her own leg only to be caught by the man in front of her. He wore his hair in a braid and his beard was longer than she ever saw anyone wear. His eyes didn't hold any danger in them, maybe curiosity, but nothing she had to be scared of. Calming her nerves slightly she stood up straight again.

"witch?" She tilted her head confused, not understanding what that word really meant, only hearing it when someone insulted her mother. Her eyebrows furrowed in anger. "My momma was no witch! She was a healer and helped lots of people!" Pushing away from him, she heard something snap behind the man.

A man holding his arm, which was twisted in a weird angle. The man was screaming in pain as his legs twisted as well, painfully bringing him to his death. It took the little girl some time to snap out of her emotions and look over to the man, only to gasp at the state of the man.

Covering her eyes quickly with her hands she turned away, a quiet sob escaping her. The other men gasped in fear, she had to be blessed by the gods they thought. "By the gods it is true!" The man with the braid laughed and pulled her into his chest. "You are coming home with us, little one. Bet you want to meet your family!" Peeking through her fingers she nervously chewed her lip. She wasn't sure if she could trust him, but her momma once told her a story about a man she could always trust if he ever came to her. A man named Ragnar Lothbrok.

The man, who was carrying her, didn't look exactly how her mother explained, but his icy blue eyes reminded her of him. "Are you Ragnar Lothbrok?" Her voice came out in a whisper as she held onto him. A laugh rumbled in his chest as he put her down on the boat. "I am his son, Björn Ironside. My father and I were often here in Wessex, he met a woman, a healer he used to tease by calling her a witch, they shared a bed and later on rumors spread, that she was with his child. You. I am your brother, we're going to Kattegat, our fathers home. Our home."

Confusion settled in the little girls chest, she didn't fully believe him, but somehow she thought she could trust him. The hope of having a family battling the fear of getting killed or worse.

They traveled for months on no end, the little witch started to enjoy the sea. She learned many things thanks to her brother. The gods became her favorite topic, next to her having four more brothers back at home. Giggling she ran over to Björn. "Brother! When will we arrive?" Excitement settled in her bones as she held onto his hand, looking up to him with wide eyes. Björn couldn't help but smile slightly at how excited she was. "We will arrive soon, look."

When she looked into the distant she saw land becoming bigger, they were close, just about to reach it. She was nervous, he had warned her about how different each brother is, but she was excited. Excited to see a family she longed for. Excited for a land that would also belong to her in some way.

As they arrived she was nervous, people looked at her weirdly, making her scared that she might hurt someone. Björn was walking in the front with her, three men waiting for them in a big hall. The girl had already heard a lot about them and could easily tell who each one of them was. But one wasn't here, she was disappointed.

The men looked at Björn confused. "Welcome home, brother. I see you did not return alone, who is that child?" Ubbe smiled slightly walking up to them. "She's our sister. Father laid with a woman from Wessex, she was a healer I got to know her a bit." The little girl started fidgeting with her hands, trying to release some of her stress. Ubbes eyes found hers, she could only see kindness in them.

A chuckle came from where the other two stood, the blonde man laughing at how ridicules this sounded. "Be serious, brother. You couldn't possibly believe something that stupid." Sigurd was being gruesome, looking at the child in disgust at how her clothes looked. She was no child of Ragnar for him. she didn't look like one either. Sneering he gave her one last glare as he walked away.

Biting her lip she looked to the ground, counting the seconds and minutes so she could calm down. A sigh came from the other three men. Hvitserk slowly made his way towards her kneeling down so he was her height. A smile forming on his face as he studied her eyes, the blue reminding him of his little brother. Even the white in her eyes was a little blue.

„Looks like Ironsides is telling the truth.“. A grin spread on Hvitserk face as he stood up straight. Soon there was a clicking sound to be heard. Ivar came into the great hall, wondering what all the noise is about, having only heard parts of it. „Gods would you just keep it down, Hvitserk.“

Fear settled in her stomach, she was terrified of meeting Ivar ever since Björn told her all the stories about him. When her eyes finally met his she couldn't help but flinch. His eyes matched hers the most. They were almost identical and a giddy smile formed on her face, before she could stop herself. With him it was the clearest that he was her brother. "I heard Sigurd whine about our brother having found some bastard child from father, that couldn't seriously be his..."

Ivar leaned down towards the little girl, tilting his head slightly, inspecting her, before grinning like a lunatic. "But as I see she looks more like a child of Ragnar than he does." Hvitserk laughed and Ubbe couldn't help but grin a little at Ivars statement. All of them were nervous for his reaction, since he was the hardest to please, but somehow her eyes made him realize it the quickest.

The little girl couldn't believe how easy they all accepted her and included her in everything. Everyone except Sigurd. He spread the rumors of her having some powers, but instead of making the people be disgusted of her they started admiring her, bringing her brothers gifts for her. Every person in Kattegat thought she was a god. How couldn't she be? A child of the great Ragnar Lothbrok, it was about time one of them had to become a god.

Even her brothers sometimes believed it, but they also soon learned that her power held a lot of danger. Ivar was the first to notice that her eyes, like his, told in what situation her powers would be. If they were blue in the whites, then it was dangerous for her to interact with a lot of people meaning, keeping her with Ubbe and Hvits would be the wisest decision. Of course they trusted Ivar with her, but most of the times Ivar himself was somewhat worried about upsetting her too much.

On her good days she would walk with her crippled brother through the market, helping him get things and later on hearing about all the adventures he went on. She wouldn't tell but she did like him the best, since he understood her the most. Ubbe was a close second. Björn left for another raid soon after he brought her to the others, which sandend her the most was that he didn't even say goodbye.

She loved her brothers very much, even Sigurd. Ivar was very protective of her when it came to him. He was never allowed too close to her or to be alone with her. It was rare that Ivar cared that much, but he knew how cruel Sigurd could be if he wanted to, and he didn't want her to go through the same things he himself went through.

During a feast late at night she sat with her brothers, giggling and laughing as Hvitserk told her the funniest stories and Torvi braiding her hair, she felt whole. Ivar was sitting in the throne looking over the people, seeing how they looked at his sister in fear, he liked that they feared her even if they thought she was a god, but he also knew how it upset her that they avoided her at all costs when she was close.

Sigurd hated everything about her actually being treated like all of his brothers, like an actual child of Ragnar even though Ragnar himself never even knew her. On this particular night he drank one too many cups of ale and his company wouldn't stop talking about how great her powers are and how she was the hope for the people in Kattegat. The hate he felt for Ivar was nothing compared to the hate he felt for her. It made him see red, he got up and walked straight up to her as she was wandering around the hall, looking at different things.

Ivar was watching her carefully, making sure nothing could happen. Sigurd grabbed her arm forcefully making her stop and turn towards him, a gasps escaped her. Looking up to him she gave him an excited smile. "Brother! Are you enjoying the feast? Ubbe said I may not try the ale yet because-" But he interrupted her by grabbing her face hard and squishing her cheeks together. "I am not your brother! Neither are they!" He pointed to were Ubbe and Hvitserk were laughing together. "Just because Ragnar laid with some bitch in Wessex doesn't make you anything to us! Oh and Ivar? He's playing his own games, he only keeps you around so that you can help him archive the power he wants!" A smirk was on Sigurds face as he watched how tears streamed down her cheeks and how her lip quivered.

Sadly for him he did not notice the blue of her eyes and how she was further away from the others, to calm her powers. One might think that the ax hitting him in the back was her, but people tend to forget how hotheaded Ivar the boneless was, now that he seemed calm compared to his sister. Ivar couldn't help it and threw the ax, hearing his brothers harsh and hurtful words, making him not realize what he was doing as his hand found the weapon.

Ivar didn't mean to kill his brother, panic spread in his chest as he quickly limped over to the two of them. The little girls eyes were wide and still filled with unshed tears as she did her best to keep Sigurd upright. Of course she was upset with him, but he was still her beloved brother, even if he didn't see himself that way.

The hall quieted down quickly. Hvitserk and Ubbe were quick to join their siblings helping the girl to carefully lay down their brother. Both shot daggers with their eyes at Ivar, who was slightly trembling, scared to have actually killed him. Ubbe tried to pull her away from Sigurd, not wanting her to see so much blood at such a young age, not caring about viking tradition at this point. This was her brother dying, she shouldn't see him like that.

But she had other plans. As if it was instinct, she pulled away from Ubbes hold and pulled the ax out of Sigurds abdomen. Her hands covering in blood as she pressed them onto the open wound applying as much pressure as she can before closing her eyes, saying a quiet prayer to the gods. Repeating the prayer over and over again in barely a whisper her eyes shot open, the blue now seeming like it glowed, making the men around her flinch slightly.

They all saw the wound healing. It healed quickly, way quicker than anything else and her eyes soon stopped glowing as the wound was completely gone and Sigurs eyes snapped open. The little girls eyes closed slowly as she released him from her grip and dropped exhausted to the ground, making Hvitserk quickly catched her head, before it hit the floor, picking her fully up. All of them were silent for a moment as they listened to Sigurds heavy breathing.

None of them could believe how blessed they were, having a sister as strong as her. It didn't matter to them if she was a god or a simple witch blessed by them. All that mattered to them was that she was safe and taken care of. She was so young with such great power. A power she needed help with, a power that they all had to tame with her. But it was alright, if that's what it takes for her to feel loved and needed.

The Ragnarssons could not hide the fact that their sister was the reason they all connected fully again. She truly was a blessing from the all father.

-

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! :)

[liminalpebble]

Stray: Part 9

Masterlist link

Stray: Part 9

“Brother! I knew you would show yourself once again and we would find you. You can't run forever, you conniving little snake!”, Thor bellowed across the tiny space as great gusts of wind billowed around him, sweeping into the apartment and leaving it in disarray.

Loki shot up from the couch, and held onto you protectively, his tall body guarding you. “Now hold on just a minute! You were the one who instigated this whole game, brother. In fairness, shouldn't we both face consequences? Or are you too golden and blessed in our parents' eyes to do any wrong?”

The wind subsided and Thor seemed to deflate slightly, then spoke more plainly, “Shut up, Loki!”

You giggled, you couldn't help it. The Norse god of thunder was standing in your living room, dominating the space one moment, then looking like a scolded overgrown toddler the next.

Loki glanced to you and smiled. Then beamed his grin to Thor “Oh dear brother...” he said in faux-shock, “you didn't tell them your role in all this, did you? How ignoble for a future king!”

Thor stepped closer and scoffed. “You dare to judge me? As if you have any morals of your own, you slimy little....” .

You interrupted, sliding between them and putting a hand on both of their breastplates, trying in vain to push them apart (a woefully useless attempt). However, the two princes were raised properly to respect a lady and, therefore, did take the cue to step back.

“If I might interject gentlemen...” you said calmly.

Thor flinched as if slapped, realizing his impoliteness, and took your hand to kiss it. “Oh dear lady! I apologized profusely for my entrance, and for putting your residence in disorder. I must have frightened you terribly.”

“Not really,” you said lightly, and Thor flinched, almost insulted by that. “But listen, I uh, I understand some of this. Loki's told me some things and...”

“Has this weasel been keeping you hostage, fair maiden, or deceiving you? I shall...”

You put your hands up. “No! No no no! Please...just listen. I'm sure there's some kind of solution here if you would only talk to each other and....”

Before you could finish your sentence, a brilliant multicolored beam rained down on all three of you from overhead in a kaleidoscopic blaze. Loki held you closer again and said, “Hang on, little mortal. Heimdall is calling us home.”

“What?!” you shouted over the blast of the portal fluttering around you. Before you knew it you tumbled through space and were hurled into a golden dome occupied by a single gilded guard with a sword. Unlike the two Asgardians, you immediately lost your balance and Loki had to catch you.

“I feel dizzy. I think I'm gonna puke,” you warned.

“It's alright, darling, give it a moment. It'll pass. It happens to everyone the first time.”

Thor rounded to his brother, pointing his hammer to his chest, and Loki's eyes went wide. “Why did you bring us back?”

“It wasn't me, you stupid oaf!” Loki hollered back, arms up in surrender.

Heimdall's deep commanding voice echoed around the dome. “It was the order of King Odin, your majesties.”

-----

Your heartbeat ramped up higher and higher as you made your way through the palace. By the time you'd finally made it to the vast throne room, flanked on all sides by guards, you felt as if your heart might beat right out of your chest.

“Lokiiii?” you hissed, in a concerned whisper.

“Yes, darling?” he replied, his long arm still cradling you.

“Should I be afraid?”

“Nooo. No. It'll all be just fine. I know this must be terribly alarming and baffling for you, but I assure you....”

“WHERE ARE THEY?” a voice thundered through the throne room. “Where the Hel are my arrogant, troublesome, unruly, infantile sons!”

A red-faced stately man, with a full white beard and gleaming armor rushed to stand before his throne and slammed the base of his golden staff upon the floor. It reverberated through the entire room and your every bone. You felt a primal kind of fear, and could barely breathe. Instinctively, you tried to hide your much shorter body behind the two towering brothers, but to no avail.

Odin's scathing blue eye, found you quickly and bored through you. The Allfather shouted, “Why is that HUMAN in my throne room, or in Asgard, for that matter? What are you ungrateful shits playing at now? Which one of you has done this?”

Just when you felt about to dart away or pass out in abject terror, a melodic feminine voice reached your ears, slicing like a subtle knife through the high tension. “I have, husband,” the regal woman said, pushing effortlessly past her husband, and gliding down the steps to where the three of you stood like confused students who had landed in the principal's office.

She waved a hand wordlessly, commanding her sons to step away from you. You felt a clutch of panic in your throat as Loki relinquished his grasp, leaving you exposed and small in a world of gods. The queen smiled sweetly to you, said your name slowly, deliberately, then said, “Welcome to Asgard, child. I am Frigga, the Allmother.”

Unsure of what to do or say, you curtsied to the best of your ability in jeans and said, “Your Majesty, I'm honored.”

She gave you a knowing smirk and a wink (so much like Loki's that it made you feel immediately more at ease and familiar). “I apologize profusely for the behavior of the men of this royal house.” She gave a warning glare to both her sons and her husband. “Shame on all of you!” To your surprise, all three of them readily deferred to Frigga's judgment of them, heads hung in embarrassment.

She held your hand with her bejeweled fingers. “I wanted to meet you, my dear, and it will be my pleasure to speak with you soon. For now, please allow my ladies in waiting to attend to you. For now I must attend to some family matters.”

“Yes...yes ma'am,” you said, with another little curtsy.

Loki rushed to your side and kissed your hand, saying quickly, “It'll all be just fine, darling. I promise. Just relax.”

Unsure what else to do, and completely disoriented by this entire chain of events, all you could do was nod as the ladies whisked you away.

----

As soon as the human girl was out of earshot, Odin continued, “You idiot children and your stupid...”

“Oh shut up, Odin, you old windbag,” Frigga said with annoyance, and he immediately obeyed. She turned to the princes, arms crossed. “My sons, I know you've both been up to some mischief among the Midgardians, is that correct?”

Thor stuttered out, “Loki was...”

“I said 'you both', Thor. I'm not a fool.”

Thor hung his head like a scolded Labrador.

“Yes, Mother,” Loki said, “I'm afraid we have. It was all meant in good fun. Just a silly bet between us and it seems to have gotten rather out of hand. I apologize and take responsibility.”

All three of them stared at Loki, wide-eyed with overwhelming shock. They expected many things from Loki, but never a direct and sincere apology.”

Thor said, “Norns, you mean it, don't you? What happened to you on Earth?”

Loki rolled his eyes at his brother, but blushed nonetheless.

Frigga nodded knowingly, “And have either of you harmed or killed any mortals in the course of this...prank?”

“No, mother,” they answered in unison, as if they were 8 years old again.

“Alright. And Loki, have you made amends for any chaos you might have caused on Midgard? Have you done at least some good works as penance?”

“I...I think so, Mother. I hope I've done enough. But you might ask the human her opinion on that matter.”

Frigga smiled and nodded with a twinkle in her eye. Like her son, she was impossible to fool; a powerful sorceress, raised by witches. “And so I shall.”

She stepped closer to Odin, whose face had now calmed down to something approaching flesh tone rather than an apple. Offering her hand gently to him, she said, “Husband, I think that is enough of this matter, isn't it. Might we simply call the whole affair settled? Are there not more important matters to attend to than this squabble?”

Odin sighed. “Indeed, my sagacious wife, your wisdom always seems to win the day. And in any case, I can deny you nothing. So be it.” He kissed her hand then began to leave before turning back to his boys with softened eyes. “My sons, I am glad to see you again. I...I was concerned for you both. Please, desist with this foolishness, for the sake of an old man who no longer finds it entertaining.”

They both smirked and said, “Yes, Father.”

----

“Well,” Thor said, looking to Frigga and Loki, “that could have gone worse,” and shrugged.

Loki sighed out, “Thor you are an insufferable imbecile,” but pronounced it with a fond smile.

He winked and smiled in return. “You're just jealous. Farewell, brother,” he declared sauntering away.

Once it was only Loki and his mother, he hugged her and said softly, “I've missed you. Thank you for placating him...again.”

She pinched his sharp cheek playfully. “You're lucky I love you so much, my sly little raven. Come with me, we're not finished talking yet. I want you to tell me about this girl.”

@averagetmblrusser @primrosesposts @fruityfucker @arunabrak @mischief2sarawr @ladyofthestayingpower @acidcasualties @unlucky-number-13 @goblingirlsarah @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokihiddleston @chokeanddagger @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @marcotheflychair @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @littlespaceyelf @little-wormwood @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @eleniblue @loz-3 @the-haven-of-fiction @sweetsigyn @muddyorbs @icytrickster17 @holdmytesseract @thenerdyoldersister @thedistractedagglomeration @sailorholly @coldnique @sarahscribbles @peaches1958 @infinitystoner @peachyjinx @mischiefmaker615 @jennyggggrrr @tripleyeeet @itsybitchylittlewitchy @mochie85 @huntress-artemiss @madi0987 @buttercupcookies-blog @annoyingsweetsstranger @anukulee @aesonmae @angelofasgard16 @salempoe

[readychilledwine]

The First Noel

Summary - Rhysand knew he could never live up to the standards the Winter Court had for Solstice. But it's the thought that counts, right?

Warnings - Pure. Fluff.

You can take a peek at Broken here

Happy almost Christmas, my loves ❤️

The first problem with courting someone from the Winter Court, Rhysand slowly realized as he walked around the market currently being decorated and set up for Solstice, was he would never live up to the standards she must have had for their most sacred day. The second problem? If this was what the High Lord of Winter set up for his fae, higher or lesser, Rhysand could hardly begin to imagine what he did for his beloved children, Kallias and Aelia.

The latter of whom was holding his hand, taking him to her favorite hot chocolate and cider vendor. Azriel and Cassian were not far behind them, both already holding a bag of chocolates and treats they excitedly took in the sights before them. Rhys took a heavy breath as they finally reached the vendor, eyes pleading to his brothers for help. Aelia was to spend Solstice with them in Night, and all Rhysand could think about was how disappointed she was about to be.

Aelia packed her bags with a smile etched into her face. Leaving Winter for SOlstice was a huge milestone in the long courtship she and Rhysand had been going through. The two normally spent Holidays and events in their own courts and with their own families. Aside from Starfall, they had bridged this gap, and she was anxious to see how they decorated, what foods and treats were made, what traditions they held.

She smiled as Azriel appeared behind her, silently taking her bags. “Before we go back to the Night Court, could we possibly get more of that peppermint hot chocolate?” The two of them smiled at each other, eyes sparkling in mischief. Rhysand made a mistake allowing Azriel to be the one to pick her up.

Or was it a calculated choice?

“Is she coming to look at ornaments or be with us, Rhys?” Mor rolled her eyes for the fourth time as Rhysand adjusted every single ornament on their tree again. “If she’s coming to see decorations, maybe you need to step up your game.”

Cassian chuckled in the corner of the room, his eyes trained on perfectly wrapping the gift he had gotten for Azriel while the Shadowsinger was away. “Did you label any of her gifts as being from that bearded guy who breaks into houses?”

Mor immediately sat up, “What?”

Amren sighed as she set her glass down. “There’s several legends in the Winter Court regarding two twin brothers. Both ancient high fae. One was blessed by the Mother, his joy and happiness spread to faelings every solstice eve during the dead of night to leave them with gifts for good behavior. The other brother was cursed by the Dark Mother and Death Gods to punish naughty children. It is unknown what he does to them, but the belief is he rips them from their homes never to be seen again.”

Mor paled slightly, taking a long sip of her wine. “I see.”

“It’s no different,” Rhys paused, brushing a fleck of glitter from his cotton shirt, “Then the Court of Nightmares using your story to force young females into fear and submission.” He stepped away from the tree, bending down slightly to angle one present just right. “And no, Cassian, I did not want to bring up Aelia’s trauma and trust issues with her father by labeling her gifts as being from Santa.”

“Just figured you might with how often you call her a good girl,” Cassian shrugged, giving up on wrapping the gift perfectly and settling for the jumbled mess of ribbons and paper. “I’m paying someone to wrap my shit from now on.”

Mor nodded in agreement, handing Cassian the bottle of wine they had been drinking from. “When will her and Az get here?”

As if on cue, loud laughter could be heard from the balcony. Shadows moved more presents, all immaculately wrapped with bows and ribbons under the tree as Aelia and Azriel entered the room. Mor was instantly up, running to hug her and rushing to speak about the latest Kal and Viv gossip as Aelia took in the room.

Tinsel hung from garland and wreaths, faelights twinkled brightly in a variety of colors, and a tree sat in the corner near a bare fireplace, making her smile wider, knowing she had the stockings to decorate it hidden in one of her bags. “It’s so pretty,” she didn’t see as Rhysand’s shoulders fell in relief, relaxation setting in immediately. “Do you all always do this much?”

None of them answered, looking away immediately as she moved to study the hand blown glass ornaments. They were clearly new, still intact and colors setting in. “Rhys, you didn’t have to do this for me.”

The inner circle all laughed slightly. They had spent the past week cleaning and decorating this specific room and little spot in the House of Wind on Rhysand’s true high lord’s orders. “I wanted it all to be perfect for your first solstice here. Living up to Winter’s standards for this was.. challenging?”

Aelia shook her head, hugging Rhysand tightly and resting her head on his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

When the house had gone silent, Aelia snuck out of her bed, bag of stockings in tow and moved to the cheerful festive room again. She began to place them along the fireplace, smiling as she did.

Azriel's was full of candies and new leather gloves.

Cassian also had a variety of candy and weapon oil Kal had carefully wrapped and boxed the container of.

Amren, the hardest of the bunch, required a delicate hand. She had paid a decent sum of money to have blood chocolates made, explaining to the crafter who they were for. He had promised his best, and if the smell was anything to go off, he delivered. She had also wrapped a few raw gemstones native to Winter in the stocking, knowing the ancient female sat on a stash of exquisite and expensive gems and jewels like a fire drake.

For Mor, she had purchased a bottle of her favorite pear wine, placing it above the stocking. In the stocking itself laid skin care and a new shade of red lipstick she had told Viv she wanted to try.

And for Rhys, her lovely, kind, and handsome partner, she had purchased a stargazing and mapping kit as well as had someone who shares his love and interest of the galaxy draw out the night sky on the date of their first kiss. A few chocolates sat on top of the rolled parchment, hiding its contents.

Aelia stepped away, smiling before jumping as arms wrapped around her waist. “What are you doing, darling?” Rhysand's voice was heavy with sleep, his face burying into her shoulder. “Come lay with me.”

Aelia allowed him to sleepily Pull her away from the room, sighing as he gently kissed her neck and pulled his blankets over her body once they were in his bed. He had worked so hard making his visit perfect for her, knowing it would be hard to be away from Winter and her family. She snuggled into him, anxiously waiting for morning, and fell asleep within an instant.

Aelia woke up to shouting and laughter, feeling the empty side of the bed as a loud “Fuck you!” rang through the air. She moved to the balcony, taking a blanket with her and just watched in silence. Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel were hidden behind forts, snowballs being launched at the slightest sense of movement.

She felt her lips twitch as she leaned on the railing, then laughed as Rhys was hit in the face due to being distracted. “You should pay better attention, brother!” Azriel ducked back down as Cassian tried to hit him. “She's pretty, but is she worth accepting your 100th defeat for?!”

Rhys looked up again, smiling at the sight of Aelia. “Yes. She is.” He held up his hands, walking inside of the house as Cassian and Azriel shouted in victory then began hunting each other's movements.

Cold hands found her waist again, “Happy Solstice, darling.”

“Happy Solstice, Rhys.”

[rollofleaf]

Owlcatober Day 17: Parents

The start to Hilde's backstory! Someday I'll finish the rest.

In many small tribes in the Lands of the Linnorm Kings, it was customary for the chieftain’s wife to assist in the delivery of newborns. When the chieftain’s wife was the one blessed with child, all the women of the tribe repaid the debt and aided her. So it was when Astrid, Daughter of Muses, had her firstborn. Every woman of the Wolverine’s Claw huddled in the small seer’s tent, providing water and comfort and guidance until at last the wailing of a newborn pierced the air.

“Chieftain, the child is born!” Chieftain Svalk had been waiting just outside the sacred space, tapping his foot impatiently until a woman poked her head out to deliver the news. Most of the younger women shuffled out as he walked in, the sight of his wife holding their child bringing a tear to even the grizzled warrior’s eye.

Astrid held her daughter close, gently shushing her cries. She held her out just enough for Svalk to see. “Look!” The infant opened her eyes, the bright glow of her peach eyes making clear her heritage. “We’re blessed by the spirits! Blessed by my mother… Oh, gods, she’s beautiful…”

She… Svalk frowned in disappointment at that. A girl, then. But that mattered little. She was strong, healthy, hungry. Astrid deserved a daughter to raise. She would bear him a son to carry his lineage another day. He smiled and leaned forward to press a kiss to Astrid’s forehead, then one to the baby’s. Astrid giggled from the bristle of his beard. “That she is… A blessed, wonderful girl.”

She looked up at him with weary, dewey eyes and held the newborn out to him. “It is your right to name her. Have you settled on something?”

Svalk carefully took his daughter, and she began to let out soft little ‘waa’s. He rocked her gently and answered with a smile. “I think… Hilde. Daughter of Svalk and Astrid.” He slowly turned to an older woman, the seer of the tribe, respectfully avoiding her gaze. “And what do you see in her?”

The elder took Hilde and sprinkled some dust in her face. Hilde sputtered and let out a cry. “I see… Much. Her song shall shatter boulders, and her light may save the lost. There is greatness and disaster in equal measure in her future, though in a form we will not expect. Be careful.”

Life was good for the Wolverine’s Claw for a while after. The newborn brought joy into the chief and chieftess’s life, and they were happy. Years passed, until the winter after Hilde’s third birthday. The sky darkened as the frigid winds of Baba Yaga blew from the east. Animals fled and the earth froze, and it became harder and harder for the tribe to find food.

Astrid sighed softly as she tried to quiet Hilde’s wailing. The poor thing was hungry, but they did not have the food to spare. “Hilde, my star, if I feed you now you won’t be able to have dinner. Don’t you want dinner?”

“Wan dinna! Now! Hungwy!” Astrid chuckled softly at her response. She sighed and glanced over to the wall where her armor and spear were kept. 

Astrid nodded and kissed Hilde’s forehead. “We all are, love. Don’t worry. Mama will get some food for everyone. But you might have to wait a while.” She walked over to a small shrine and knelt before it. “Erastil, Great Hunter, I beg of you. My people starve. Please, grant me the strength and luck to feed them. If there is any game left in your woods, let it fall upon my spear. I will give whatever you ask in return.” With that, she slipped on her armor and grabbed a bow and a spear. Hilde waddled up and tugged on her leg. Astrid smiled and picked her up, whispering conspiratorially. “Perhaps… Let’s not tell your father about this. Mama will be back soon, and he’ll only worry after me. You just sit there and be good until me or Papa are back, okay?” She set Hilde down on some furs and slipped out the back door of their longhouse. She went unseen into the forest, swiftly disappearing behind snow-covered trees.

Her father did not return for several hours, off on his own unsuccessful hunt. He stumbled back inside their home, shivering and dejected. “Still nothing. Baba Yaga curses us, the gods forsake us… Bah, but I shouldn’t speak ill of them. My love, we’ll…” He trailed off. Astrid was nowhere to be found, Hilde was idly playing with some wooden animals, either making them fight or trying to eat them. “Hilde. Where is Mama?” The toddler glanced up at him, pointed towards the weapons on the wall, and made a noise. Sweat beaded on Svalk’s brow. “Oh no… She went alone? And she’s still not back?”

He gritted his teeth and ran out of the house. A stillness had fallen over the tribe as everyone watched a figure emerge from the sleet.

Astrid stumbled out of the woods, bloodied from her struggle but dragging a freshly-slain buck on a sled behind her. The beast was larger than any Svalk had ever seen, it alone could feed the entire tribe for at least a month. Yet all he saw was Astrid’s face through her helm, her cheeks almost blue. The woman was shivering madly as she released the sled and collapsed to her knees. “S-sorry… I’m s-sorry that it took me s-so long…” 

It was a happy evening for the tribe as the meat was butchered and divided, everyone eating well for the first time in weeks. Only Svalk’s joy was dimmed as he watched his wife shivering near the campfire, which seemed to do nothing to warm her up. When they went to bed, her skin was almost lukewarm and her breathing was shallow and strained. Only two days later she was bedridden and barely able to move. Blankets and heated water seemed to do nothing to warm her up, and she was growing weaker by the hour.

Hilde waddled up to her bedside, squeezing her hand. “M-mama… S-sowwy. I asked for food…” She tried to fight off the guilt she was feeling.

Astrid chuckled weakly and tried to squeeze back. “Hilde, my star, there’s no need to apologize. I… I just regret that I didn’t die in battle. At least I could feed you. Please, my daughter, be brave and be strong. I’ll still be here with you, forever.” Hilde only looked confused.

Svalk was silent, watching her. Hilde had demanded food, that’s why Astrid had gone out hunting. Of course. She was always so soft on the girl. He brushed his thoughts away and looked to the tribe’s healer. “Take my daughter away. She shouldn’t see the rest.” Hilde whined in protest as she was led back to her home.

Svalk came home hours later, his face haggard and empty. “Hilde.” His voice was devoid of emotion. Hilde looked up and crawled towards him. “Your mother… H-has gone away for a while.” He commanded the tears in his eyes to stay where they were. “She won’t be coming back. It’s… It’s only us two now.”

Hilde started to tear up. “M-my fault?”

Svalk winced. “Don’t cry, it’s unbecoming of a chieftain or his child. Just… Come, let’s get you to bed.” Once Hilde was sleeping, he slumped back into his chair and began to weep. How was he supposed to raise a daughter alone without her? How was he supposed to handle anything without her?

[ninadove]

Nina reads Dracula 🦇

September 18th

Today’s entry looks pretty long! Let’s do this!

THE ESCAPED WOLF.

PERILOUS ADVENTURE OF OUR INTERVIEWER.

Oh oh.

but I waits till they've 'ad their sherry and kawffee, so to speak, afore I tries on with the ear-scratchin'.

Wolf Care 101

"Without offence did I tell yer to go to 'ell?"

"You did."

I LOVE THIS MAN

There wasn't much people about that day, and close at hand was only one man, a tall, thin chap, with a 'ook nose and a pointed beard, with a few white hairs runnin' through it. He had a 'ard, cold look and red eyes, and I took a sort of mislike to him, for it seemed as if it was 'im as they was hirritated at. He 'ad white kid gloves on 'is 'ands, and he pointed out the animiles to me and says: 'Keeper, these wolves seem upset at something.'

"'Maybe it's you,' says I, for I did not like the airs as he give 'isself. He didn't git angry, as I 'oped he would, but he smiled a kind of insolent smile, with a mouth full of white, sharp teeth. 'Oh no, they wouldn't like me,' 'e says.

"'Ow yes, they would,' says I, a-imitatin' of him. 'They always likes a bone or two to clean their teeth on about tea-time, which you 'as a bagful.'

ICONIC

"God bless me!" he said. "If there ain't old Bersicker come back by 'isself!"

GOOD BOY

He went to the door and opened it; a most unnecessary proceeding it seemed to me. I have always thought that a wild animal never looks so well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is between us; a personal experience has intensified rather than diminished that idea.

Reasonable.

Anyways back to the murder scene —

Without a word the Professor bent over the bed, his head almost touching poor Lucy's breast; then he gave a quick turn of his head, as of one who listens, and leaping to his feet, he cried out to me:—

"It is not yet too late! Quick! quick! Bring the brandy!"

WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S NOT TOO LATE I ALREADY MOURNED MUST WE REALLY DO THIS ALL OVER AGAIN

"What are we to do now? Where are we to turn for help? We must have another transfusion of blood, and that soon, or that poor girl's life won't be worth an hour's purchase. You are exhausted already; I am exhausted too. I fear to trust those women, even if they would have courage to submit. What are we to do for some one who will open his veins for her?"

"What's the matter with me, anyhow?"

The voice came from the sofa across the room, and its tones brought relief and joy to my heart, for they were those of Quincey Morris.

YEEEEEEEEEESSSSS 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

It’s always darkest before the dawn

"A brave man's blood is the best thing on this earth when a woman is in trouble. You're a man and no mistake. Well, the devil may work against us for all he's worth, but God sends us men when we want them."

VERY COOL SPEECH

"It dropped from Lucy's breast when we carried her to the bath."

When I had read it, I stood looking at the Professor, and after a pause asked him: "In God's name, what does it all mean? Was she, or is she, mad; or what sort of horrible danger is it?" I was so bewildered that I did not know what to say more. Van Helsing put out his hand and took the paper, saying:—

"Do not trouble about it now. Forget it for the present. You shall know and understand it all in good time; but it will be later."

I think now’s a pretty good time

"Jack Seward, I don't want to shove myself in anywhere where I've no right to be; but this is no ordinary case. You know I loved that girl and wanted to marry her; but, although that's all past and gone, I can't help feeling anxious about her all the same. What is it that's wrong with her? The Dutchman—and a fine old fellow he is; I can see that—said, that time you two came into the room, that you must have another transfusion of blood, and that both you and he were exhausted. Now I know well that you medical men speak in camera, and that a man must not expect to know what they consult about in private. But this is no common matter, and, whatever it is, I have done my part. Is not that so?"

"That's so," I said, and he went on:—

"I take it that both you and Van Helsing had done already what I did to-day. Is not that so?"

"That's so."

"And I guess Art was in it too. When I saw him four days ago down at his own place he looked queer.

HE IS SO SMART TOO look at my handsome cowboy. So so so so smart.

I have not seen anything pulled down so quick since I was on the Pampas and had a mare that I was fond of go to grass all in a night. One of those big bats that they call vampires —

Oh.

One of those big bats that they call vampires had got at her in the night, and what with his gorge and the vein left open, there wasn't enough blood in her to let her stand up, and I had to put a bullet through her as she lay.

Oh.

"And how long has this been going on?"

"About ten days."

That felt like a lot longer with all the dread…

"There has been a series of little circumstances which have thrown out all our calculations as to Lucy being properly watched. But these shall not occur again. Here we stay until all be well—or ill." Quincey held out his hand. "Count me in," he said. "You and the Dutchman will tell me what to do, and I'll do it."

I love you

Quinceyyy 🎶

I ain’t never gonna stop loving you

QUINCEEEYYYYY 🎶🎶🎶

Towards dusk she fell into a doze. Here a very odd thing occurred. Whilst still asleep she took the paper from her breast and tore it in two. Van Helsing stepped over and took the pieces from her. All the same, however, she went on with the action of tearing, as though the material were still in her hands; finally she lifted her hands and opened them as though scattering the fragments. Van Helsing seemed surprised, and his brows gathered as if in thought, but he said nothing.

🥺😔

Now back to the happy couple —

Such a sad blow has befallen us. Mr. Hawkins has died very suddenly.

Oh come ooon

Forgive me, dear, if I worry you with my troubles in the midst of your own happiness; but, Lucy dear, I must tell some one, for the strain of keeping up a brave and cheerful appearance to Jonathan tries me, and I have no one here that I can confide in.

Oh come ON

< Prev 🦇 Next >

[hannibalzero]

Cut loose and set free

Charthur wip

🦬🦌🦬🦌

I’ve been trying to get into my writing grove again so I’m throwing things to the wall and seeing what sticks. Let me know what you think!

“And just where were you, Mr. Morgan?” Dutch demanded, turning around on The Count with the gang behind him. It reminded Arthur of those Greek myths of the gods of Olympus, the ones Dutch and Hosea had taught him to read. Dutch in front of the mountain pass that led into a dark snowstorm sky, each member of the gang another god in their own right.

Dutch was Zeus, king of the gods. Molly was his queen Hera, Hosea was Hermes, John had to be Ares, Grimshaw was Demeter, and Uncle was Dionysus.

Arthur could almost see the white robes and gold leaf crowns.

What did that make Arthur? Apollo, he supposed.

“Where were you?! Answer me, boy!” Dutch bellowed like the gods of old. A clap of thunder followed his voice, as if nature itself was blessing this moment with its presence. The rain started to fall slowly from the sky.

Swallowing a few times, eyes wide, Arthur found his voice. “I told ya, Dutch! I was working with Hosea on that real estate job.” He proclaimed his innocence. Arthur had told Dutch this was a crazy job, that the law would find them too quickly. Hell, Arthur had even done the leg work by scouting the boat, its route, and what it should be hauling. “I told ya what I thought of the job, ya said it would be fine!”

“Enough! You have the balls to talk to me like that! You should have been there, Arthur! It’s your job as my enforcer! My hunting dog!” Dutch snarled, showing his teeth, which looked more like fangs at the moment. “If you can’t do your job, then you have no place here with us! I’m cutting you loose, Arthur Morgan.” He pointed at Arthur now, casting him out of the only family Arthur had ever known.

Arthur physically flinched, feeling like a little boy again. He wanted to hide away in a closet like he did when he was a boy, when Lyle was drinking. Arthur could remember just last week when Dutch was singing his praises for bringing in two gold bars from a stagecouch job he ran by himself.

What had changed so quickly?

“Dutch! Ya can’t be serious!” Hosea cried out, turning himself and Silver Dollar towards Dutch.

“Quiet!” Dutch roared back to Hosea, shutting the man up and causing him to stop in his tracks. “This gang doesn’t need any more deadweight. Already have more than we need. This ain’t a charity!”

Hands shaking while holding the reins, Arthur hid his eyes with the brim of his hat. “…That how ya really see me, Dutch?” Arthur asked quietly but knew his answer and gave a long, slow sigh. “Alright then.” He gathered his emotions for the time being, pushing them way down until he could understand them.

Arthur looked Dutch in the eye, his eyes a dull blue, almost gray now. “I ask for my tent, chest, and horses…won’t take any money. That fair, Dutch?” Arthur bargained. He didn’t want to start over with absolutely nothing. At least having the items he had since he was a boy would be nice.

Dutch stroked his beard in thought, tilting his head. His gold and ruby rings glittered like lightning in the stormy light. “Yes, think of it as your hope chest.” He held out his arms with a grin. “It’s what young people take when they leave home.” He mocked, pointing with his head to Molly, who was riding in her stagecoach. “At least Molly came to me with a few gold bars.”

Arthur nodded, slipping off Rum’s back and got to work. He retreated to his lean-to, setting his chest beside his beautiful mare. Walking over to the extra horses, he gathered his beloved Brandy, Gin, and Absinthe. “…Y’all be safe,” Arthur called out to the gang as he packed up his supplies and attached leads to the horses.

Javier grabbed Arthur’s hand in a good shake. “Until we meet again brother.” He whispered. Giving Arthur a set of his throwing knives, Javier was a fan of throwing knives so this was special.

Bill practically turned his nose up at Arthur, riding ahead. But tossed Arthur a container of Dapper dan hair pomade.

“Good day, Mr. Morgan.” Dutch turned The Count around and headed up the mountain. The gang slowly followed behind their leader, most looking at Arthur with sad eyes or as if he were a traitor.

“Look at the bright side, cowpoke. Ya were too soft-hearted for real man’s work,” Micah Bell teased.

Arching a brow, Arthur crossed his arms. “Baylock, come.” He ordered.

Baylock was a smart boy; he knew who gave him treats and who burned him with cigarettes to make him run faster. At Arthur’s orders, the horse reared and knocked Micah off before trotting over to Arthur with a happy whinny.

Micah hit the ground with a thud. “Baylock! Baylock, come here!” he demanded, struggling to get up like a turtle on its back.

Arthur undid Micah’s saddle, letting it fall to the ground with its owner. He slipped Baylock a peppermint. “Come on, Baylock, ya join my ladies.” He ordered the horse, who was eager to be with Arthur’s beloved herd. “Have a nice life, Micah.” Arthur climbed onto Rum’s back.

The wagon with the gang’s women rode past. Mary-Beth passed Arthur her old romance novel, the one with pressed flowers in it. “Goodbye, Arthur. Love you,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with tears.

“Until we meet again.” Karen gave Arthur her old compact mirror. “Best man I know,” she whispered to Arthur, giving a sad smile. “I owe ya a drink.”

“You better write to me, Arthur Morgan.” Tilly was actually crying, Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he saw Tilly cry. “You’re my big brother.” She reminded him, giving Arthur her pestle and mortar, which had red flowers on it.

“I will. Love ya all,” Arthur whispered back, holding his new treasures close to his chest before hiding the items in his saddle bags.

Hosea approached now, with sad eyes. His shoulders slumped and looking far older than he should. “You write to me, boy. I’ll work on Dutch. See what’s really going on. John too.” He leaned over and gave Arthur a hug. Arthur held Hosea back, trying not to sniffle. “Be brave for me, son.”

“Love ya, pa. I’ll write you,” Arthur promised before moving back some. “I-If I settle somewhere good… I’ll send for you.” He looked around, giving a sniffle as his facade started to crumble. “I have a few places I will check out.” He gathered himself up a bit more before looking back to Hosea. “I’ll be fine and dandy,” he promised, giving Hosea another hug.

“I know you will, son. Ain’t no doubt you’ll be just fine. I’ll see ya soon.” He hugged Arthur back before moving forward to follow the gang.

Leaving Arthur Morgan at the bottom of the mountain, Zuse the king of the gods returns to his mountain with his court by his side, leaving the rejected god at the base of the mountain far from the gates of Olympus.

Arthur’s home.

He watched the gang go until they were out of sight and disappeared into the white snow caps. Arthur felt his shoulders drop before shaking and hug his head as he sniffled loudly. Arthur cried like he did when he lost Mary…like when he lost...Eliza and Isaac…when he lost his Mama. Big heaving sobs wracked his body, not noticing that Rum had started moving.

Rum was a very smart horse. an appaloosa mare with a white front and a brown bottom. She had to be three years old, but she was the leader of Arthur’s herd. Being a horse, she had no idea what was going on with the humans but Arthur was upset and they didn’t need to be here.

[millersdjarin]

domestic, married, old couple in jackson headcanons with joel plsplsplsplspsplspslslspsls

anonnnn you are SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE 😩😩👌👌

Joel loves to sit on the porch with his guitar after the sun sets, after you've all had dinner and Ellie's hanging with friends. You'll go out there, appreciating the moment of quiet, of stillness, and bring him a cup of herbal tea - which he always complains about, because it's not coffee or whiskey, but he always drinks it anyway, because you say it helps him sleep and he'll be damned if he turns you down - and you'll sit in the chair beside him beneath the porch light, nursing your own tea while he plays gentle tunes. He'll glance at you every now and again, give you a little smile, push his foot along the deck so he can press it up against yours. When it starts getting chilly and stars are bright in the sky, he'll finish his final song and stand up, leaning in to kiss your forehead before beckoning you inside.

Even after years of being together, years of being settled in Jackson, this man is still touch starved. You'll be doing something mundane like washing the dishes, reading a book, even just arriving home after a night out at the bar. He'll come to you, wrap an arm around your waist, kiss your neck, the back of your head, wherever he can get to first. His beard is getting longer along with his hair and you never tire of feeling it brush against your skin.

And he'd never admit it, but he loves to dance. Just with you. Just when you're alone, or sometimes, if he's feeling especially overcome with affection for you, when there's a dance at the bar and one of your favourite songs comes on. He'll hold you in the kitchen, swaying as the record player sings into the room, the soapy water in the sink going cold with the dishes only half done. He just loves to hold you close, to press you to his body, to step to the music and hum tunes into your neck. At dances, he'll coax you from the wall or the bar, saying, "C'mon, darlin', indulge me. This song is yours, I can't not dance with you to it, can I?" and, sure, it's usually after a few whiskeys when his capability to be embarrassed goes out the window, but you don't mind. You'll always indulge him.

Even if indulging him means listening to his rambles about the shitty construction in some of the town's homes, and how he's gotta fix all of it because if he doesn't, it's not gonna get done properly. He's got more callouses from helping out around the town than he does from patrolling or playing guitar; he's gruff and grumpy but he'll never turn down someone who needs help, someone who's roof is leaking, who's porch step has broken. A few residents start using wheelchairs or walking sticks as various ailments crop up in the community, and Joel and Tommy build them ramps for their homes, transform living rooms into ground floor bedrooms. He doesn't ask for anything in return.

It's impractical, and it takes forever to set up, but bathing together. Joel will do the arduous task of filling the tub, always brushing off Tommy's grumbles about using up the street's hot water, paying for it by taking an extra patrol here and there. You're blessed with a nice, big bathtub in your house; you sit between Joel's legs and he'll wash your hair, cupping a hand on your forehead so the soap doesn't fall into your eyes, pressing gentle kisses to your bare shoulders any chance he gets. You rub his legs, then turn when he's done and wash him, enjoying lathering soap in his chest hairs and down his arms. In the candlelight his wet skin glows and you wonder how you got so lucky, to find this tiny corner of peace and tranquility in the midst of the end of the world.

"For the love of God, Joel, go to the doctor," you say to him for the hundredth time one week when he's got an earache so severe that he can barely even eat, and what feels like a temperature is rising on his forehead. He just needs some antibiotics, but he's refusing to go and ask for some. "I don't want to be a bother. It'll clear up." He'll say.

It doesn't clear up; two weeks go by and one side of his face is swollen. You're sick of it; you bring the doctor to him, instead. Practically forcing it on him, but you don't care. He sits grumpily while the doctor looks inside his ear for all of two seconds and says, "Yep, standard ear infection. It's got pretty bad though; you should've come to me sooner. You're going to have to be on the antibiotics for longer and we might have to try a few types. You need to rest and drink plenty of water. No patrols or strenuous work; you'll get a fever."

He complains at your smug smile when she leaves. Looks down at the floor, grumbles something about the doctor being dramatic.

He takes his meds, though; takes them when you hand them to him with each meal, each time getting looser, more generous with his appreciation. Now he's kissing your hand when you put the pills in his mouth, mumbling a "thanks, darlin'" after he's swallowed.

"Just do what I say in the first place next time, yeah?" You tell him.

"Yeah, yeah. You're always right, honey."

"I am always right! Took you long enough to realise," you tease, and he punishes you by grabbing your waist, pulling you into him and kissing you until you forget that you'd made dessert.

Sitting and reading together is something you do a lot. You'll lie against the arm of the sofa with your legs in his lap, one of his hands on your thigh while his other holds the book he's reading. Sometimes, when you're too tired to focus or you just want to hear his voice some more, he'll read aloud to you. Turn the lamp on the coffee table on when it gets dark and crickets are chirping outside, always glancing at you to make sure you're still awake.

You always are; he reads good books, and he reads aloud well. Surprisingly well. You wonder if it goes back to reading to Sarah.

He tells you as much one night when you're getting ready for bed. He'd read to you the entire evening and he's just putting his reading glasses on the nightstand when he says it, quiet in the dim light of your bedroom.

"Did you read to her a lot, then?" You reply softly, getting under the duvet when he pulls it back for you.

He nods, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "Yeah. She used to have nightmares. The stories helped. We did it so often that I guess I got good at doin' all the voices."

You can't help but smile at the concept; the image of Joel getting really into a kids' story and making up voices for each character, wanting to make it as dynamic as possible to keep the nightmares away, to fill her mind with only the good stories. Only the happy endings.

bless this. i could go on and on. pls send headcanons, requests for headcanons, etc, any time you want <3

[writingsofwesteros]

I was thinking of Stev and Viserys and can you imagine if he married a strong woman as his second wife instead of Alicent? I had to do a little thing about it! And I’ve got no one else to show as I have no friends..

She’s strong willed, trains with all types of weapons, has the Stark height (she’s 5’10”), has the mouth of a sailor, she’s got a built stature, you can see the muscles and the time she’s put into training, she stands up for herself when it comes to men and lords who think they’re better than her, wears dresses only when necessary and prefers her pants and shirts as she often trains and hunts, she’ll wear them for court appearances though, just to please them. A lot of people look down on her and think she’s beastly and an embarrassment, well the rich South people do, in the North she’s praised for being fierce and standing up for herself, her beliefs and her rights, her father just absolutely adores her, she’s his only girl and the apple of his eye.

When she arrived at the Red Keep no one could deny her beauty as much as they despised to do so. Curled, dark black hair reaching her her mid back in braids and twists, eyes a light grey bordering on white, they immediately pulled you in, she had a dazzling smile, white teeth, beautiful nose that compliments her face, high cheekbones but a strong jaw, plush red lips that were enticing on her pale skin. They just couldn’t deny her beauty what so ever which only went to annoy the ladies more because why was this brutish lady, with the habits of a man, blessed by the gods despite her lack of manners and her unladylike habits.

Viserys heard about her hobbies and what she gets up to, he was honestly expecting a grotesque woman with a beard who belches out burps constantly, asking for more ale. He needed to keep the alliance with the North though, he can’t just hope they’ll always bend their knee to them especially when they’re the largest of the seven kingdoms. He has to keep the alliance up and it was between her and two children no older than his daughter.

She’s ethereal though, lovely and kind honestly, she treats every one the same; Lord, Ladie, animal, commoner, traveler etc… she loves animals, she’s smart and has a silver tongue that can cut through the almost stubborn of men, she runs rings around his council and always has the best ideas due to growing up helping her brother be ready to claim the Warden of the North title.

She makes it known that just because he’s king doesn’t mean she’ll bend over backwards to please him and ruin her life in the process, it’s a mutual agreement and there’ll be respect from both sides, she promises she’ll do her best to be a good wife and give help when needed but she won’t give and not get back but she’ll do her duty as she’ll be making an oath on her wedding day and she’ll be damned if she’s the first Stark to break an oath.

Viserys gets quite the shock when she speaks to him like he isn’t the king and her superior. He agrees with her words because no woman had actually stood up to him despite him being quite soft, even if he’s a king and Targaryen, she’s a proud woman and will not be subjected to a mockery of the people because her husband doesn’t respect her. He’s like a submissive puppy looking into her eyes and just agreeing to whatever she spits out as it feels quite nice not to have everything piled on his shoulders, at least he knows his second wife will be a wonder ti the seven kingdoms and a good person to him.

LOVE IT!!

I also think it works because Viserys can be so submissive most of the time. I am sure she would be able to bring him from that shell.

Your description is STUNNING! I love her already. I think it works perfectly !

[scobbe]

A quick Christian Religious Art History post because that post that bothered me said it was Christianity (sorry, “Xianity”) that was pushing the whole old man in the sky thing. 

Early Christians painted pictures mostly of Jesus, Mary, the Apostles, some early saints. The Good Shepherd was a popular motif (sometimes a young, unbearded, very Roman-looking Jesus!) as well as Mary with the Infant Jesus. Very soon the style started veering towards what would be recognized as Byzantine Iconography.

The Byzantine (Eastern Orthodox/Greek Church) went through a period of Iconoclasm, where many Church leaders said there shouldn’t be pictures of anything dealing with God at all, which lead to the destruction of a lot of beautiful artwork in early churches (this is all pre-1000 CE). This was mostly due to Old Testament/Jewish Law against “worshiping graven images.” St. John of Damascus popped up and said, but Jesus changed the rules by being, like, God in the form of Man, so we can in fact make pictures of HIM as God (the Son). So the Eastern Orthodox church took off with iconography, pictures everywhere. 

But icons are written by very specific rules, and Jesus is THE picture you will see of “God.” If you go into any Byzantine/Greek Orthodox/Eastern Orthodox church, you will probably find a huge mural of “Christ Pantocrator” or “Christ Almighty”. He looks like this:

Not an old man with a beard on a cloud.

So while the Eastern Church was doing that the Western/Roman/Latin Church just kept making art fairly freely. Most of this art had to do with the Harrowing of Hell or the Crucifixion or the ever popular Virgin with Child. Not God the Father. When Michelangelo did finally paint the Sistine Chapel ca. 1508 and the famed Creation of Adam, we were deep into the Renaissance, when everyone was “rediscovering” the art of ancient Greece and Rome, and trying to “bring back” the flavor of those Classical civilizations. So of course he painted God to look like Zeus/Jupiter and we ended up with this:

Old man kind of floating? It’s Michelangelo's classically-influenced idea of God the Creator. He was literally working from sketches of Greek and Roman statues. It was the style of the day.

It became one of the most replicated works of religious art ever. Thanks, Mike.

(And it’s actually got a lot of very clever symbolism about wombs and birth going on as well. Sorry there’s no women involved. Michelangelo was not real into the ladies.)

Meanwhile, in Germany, Martin Luther was getting his tights in a twist over various serious issues in the Roman Church and began the Protestant Reformation. This drove a whole crew of Christians back to Biblical Scripture and they pulled out the “no graven images” deal again. HUGE amount of artwork was destroyed in the Reformation, statues smashed, mosaics covered over. If you go to England it’s obvious on almost every cathedral, there are smashed statues or empty niches where statues used to be.

Because of this, a large portion of Reformed Christian churches are very skimpy on imagery, if they have any at all. When I say Reformed Churches, I’m talking Baptists, Methodists, Evangelical, Pentecostal, all the Protestant denominations. It varies, of course, but thanks to Puritan influence a huge number of churches in America ended up looking like Boston’s Old North Church, like this:

Maybe the Big Sky Daddy sits up in the balcony, I dunno.

So on one hand you’ve got Eastern Churches with Christ Pantocrator, then you’ve got the Roman Catholics with lots of crucifixes and Blessed Virgins and one (1) old man in a cloud from 1508, then you’ve got about 500 years of Protestants being exceedingly careful about having any images of God at all. 

Overall, the main man you’re going to see in Christianity is Jesus, a guy in his early 30′s with dark hair and a beard. Yeah, there were some years he got more white than he should be. Sometimes he’s a little shiny. But it’s just this guy, you know? It’s not an old man in a cloud.

I hope this clarifies where the Old Man in the Cloud may have come from, though, re: popular culture and not actually religion, the same way learning about how a single Coca-Cola ad campaign created what we normally think of as Santa. 

[flying-ryan]

You and I have a mutual problem.

We should talk.

-N

Ryan sighed and let the iPad fall to his desk a little harder than was strictly necessary. Vito Morrisini was more than just a mutual problem. He and his men concocted a half-brained plan to abduct Luca and Kate. He’d laid his hands on the one thing Blake O’Riain considered off limits. Vito Morrisini was a dead man that hadn’t learned his place yet. But Ryan had every intention of changing that.

His quiet fuming was interrupted. He’d missed the soft click of the heavy office door, the bare feet padding across the stone floor toward him. But he smiled, breathing a half-blessing half-curse when Luca’s slim arms wrapped around his neck. He shifted minutely to bring the boy into his lap, and wasted no time pushing his soft, light pink robes out of the way to kiss a trail of heat across Luca’s perfect shoulder.

“Daddy, I missed you.” Luca breathed. His hands roamed the pilot’s body, scratching painted nails against his scalp, through his greying beard, across his wide back and under the hem of his tight black shirt. “I missed you all day.”

“Ye did so good, boyo,” Ryan whispered back, leaning away from Luca enough to shed the shirt Luca kept fussing with. He pushed more of Luca’s robe out of the way, letting the draping fabric fall down off his upper half to crumple around the erection in his lap. “So fookin’ proud of ye. My pretty, patient boy.”

Luca keened under the praise, leaning more fully into his husband and smiling harder when the older man adjusted their bodies to shed the wretched robe and press Luca’s full chest into his own. “Gods, I’ll never get enough of ye, boy.” The pilot’s inked fingers traced long lines down the boy’s smooth, brown back, dipping down just enough to cup the curves of his ass, pulling them even closer together.

“My boy, I got a wonder.”

“Anything,” Luca breathed with his eyes half closed. “Anything for you, Daddy.”

“Come sit on this dick, pretty boy.” Ryan’s voice and eyes darkened. “I dinnae wannae fuck quite yet but I’ll take you up on that cockwarmin’ offer now.” He shifted even closer, leaning into Luca, staring at his flushed, open lips and grazing his blue gaze down the boy’s hard body before whispering again. “Will you cockwarm your Daddy’s big dick, little love? I’ve a bit mo’ work t’do.”

[taskeenedil]

🌻There is not a single verse in the bible that says Jesus (peace be upon him) was born on the 25th of December. There is not a single verse in the bible that says anything regarding “Christmas” or ���Santa” itself. There is not a single verse in the bible that Jesus declares to be God.

🌻God does not need eat, Jesus did. God does not sleep, Jesus slept. God does not pray, Jesus prayed. God is independent, Jesus is dependent as he prayed. God is All Knowing, Jesus has limited knowledge and is not all knowing.

🌻Jesus prayed, Muslims pray. Jesus fasted, Muslims fast. Jesus kept a beard and so do Muslim men. We love Jesus (peace be upon him) he is our role model. Even his mother Mary who we Muslims call her as Maryam wore a scarf, full loose veil which Muslim women wear because both were Muslims.

🌻Jesus (peace be upon him) came with a simple message, to tell his nation to worship One God without any partners. The Bible has been edited several times, there are so many versions and contradictions. God sent down another Prophet who was called Muhammad (peace be upon him) he came to mankind not just one nation. He peace and blessings of Allah be upon was the last prophet with the last revelation, as God said he will protect this book from being altered and changed. This book is the Qur’an, and till this day it has never been changed or altered.

🌻We invite you to look further and investigate Islam. Islam is not just another religion. It is the same message preached by Moses, Jesus and Abraham. Islam literally means ‘˜submission to God’ and it teaches us to have a direct relationship with God. It reminds us that since God created us, no one should be worshipped except God alone. It also teaches that God is nothing like a human being or like anything that we can imagine.

📜🔎The concept of God is summarised in the Qur’an as: Say, He is God, the One. God, the Absolute. He does not give birth, nor was He born, and there is nothing like Him.

(Al-Qur'an 112:1-4)

🌻Becoming a Muslim is not changing or losing your Christian identity. But it’s going back to the original teachings of Jesus. Guidance ultimately comes from God. We ask God to guide us and you. God says:

📜🔎"And [mention] when Jesus, the son of Mary, said, “O children of Israel, indeed I am the messenger of Allah to you confirming what came before me of the Torah and bringing good tidings of a messenger to come after me, whose name is Ahmad.” But when he came to them with clear evidences, they said, “This is obvious magic.”

(Al Qur’an 61:6)

🌺🤲🏽🌺🤲🏽🌺🤲🏽🌺🤲🏽🌺🤲🏽🌺🤲🏽🌺🤲🏽🌺🤲🏽

[riearchivistfornow]

Faith is Courage

English 7:30pm 2016.11.12

Faith is Courage

Hebrews 11:1-2,6 Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for. And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.

Hebrews 11:30-31 By faith the walls of Jericho fell, after the army had marched around them for seven days. By faith the prostitute Rahab, because she welcomed the spies, was not killed with those who were disobedient.

Daniel 2:20-21 and said: “Praise be to the name of God for ever and ever; wisdom and power are his. He changes times and seasons; he deposes kings and raises up others. He gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to the discerning.

We need to have faith in Him and that our faith will drive us and move us to a new excitement.

Hebrews 10:39 But we do not belong to those who shrink back and are destroyed, but to those who have faith and are saved.

Hebrews 10 is the set-up for faith, and Hebrews 11 that is the "hall of faith".

Hebrews 10:22-25 let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

As we get stirred in faith, He wants us to draw near to Him, to provoke one another to greater works and love.

Why do we need to come back to faith?

Hebrews 11:6 And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.

Joshua and Rahab.

Hebrews 11:30-31 By faith the walls of Jericho fell, after the army had marched around them for seven days. By faith the prostitute Rahab, because she welcomed the spies, was not killed with those who were disobedient.

Joshua led God's people to a mighty act of faith. Rahab, a prositute who opened her household to welcome the people of God; saving herself and her family.

What is courageous faith? It is a faith that pleases the Lord and is lived out even at seemingly impossible situations.

Faith in the face of obstacles that, by human identification, cannot be overcome.

"Audacity is not an activity. It is an approach. It is not qualified by what you do, but how you do what you do." "If you are not daring to believe God for the impossible, you may be sleeping through the best parts of your christian life."

God wants to show you some 'impossibilities'.

Hebrews 11:30 By faith the walls of Jericho fell, after the army had marched around them for seven days.

Joshua 6:1

It is a very unique and special point of the faith journey of God's people.

Corporate faith.

Joshua 6 required everyone of them to join in. Before with the red sea and the Jordan river, the leaders headed first. But with the walk of Jericho, everyone had to be invovled.

Learning how to move together in faith. It takes a lot more courage to walk together, to stick together and to be there even at the last moment.

They needed to walk not only with the same purpose and at the same time, but also pace. Out of this comes many things, along with courage.

Psalm 133:1-3 How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity! It is like precious oil poured on the head, running down on the beard, running down on Aaron’s beard, down on the collar of his robe. It is as if the dew of Hermon were falling on Mount Zion. For there the Lord bestows his blessing, even life forevermore.

This is how much God values community.

James 2:25-26

Matthew 1:5

Because of what Rahab had done, her lineage brought in the Messiah.

Joshua 2:8-11

Romans 10:17

Romans 10:11-13

Joshua 2:12-13

Joshua 2:17-18

Joshua 6:20

Habakkuk 3:17

[aldhar-ibn-beju]

The epic of the godlike peasant

Now listen to the song of the earthbound Shorty, the labourer of the field who suffered under the yoke of fate, the ploughman who walked in the dust day after day, surrounded by rubble, stone and weeping skies. Oh, praise be to Joe, the ox, his most faithful friend, now snatched away by the merciless hand of old age.

There was Shorty, the dust-covered farmer, bent by life. His heart as dull as the iron of the plough, his hand as rough as the field he ploughed. His wife was anaemic, emaciated and trembling, but she pulled the plough at his side, She laboured where once the ox broke the ground. Oh, how Shorty sighed, the wretched bovine, heavy with thought and yet without wisdom, he liked to compare his fate with that of faithful Joe, who, like him, had served blindly in life. 

Then he looked up, the servant of the field, at the dark firmament, at the signs of doom. The clouds were black, hovering like death itself, threatening, trembling, ready to send the floods. A flash of lightning, purple and wild, split the sky, slashed the zenith like Odin's sword. 

And Shorty, the ox-like one, stared upwards, felt the wrath of the gods in the firmament. His wife, the weak one, mumbled words, nothing but stupid chatter, hardly worth the air. But then a thought came to him, pure and simple: The lightning, the messenger of the gods, might bring blessings, power and wealth, as the ancients said and it was written in the holy book of elaborate ignorance. He was granted a wish, strong and terrible. 

He spoke without meaning to, full of rage at the moment: ‘Oh, that the woman would drop dead!’ - And behold, there she sank to the ground, lifeless, soft as a feather pillow she fell to the ground. Shorty, the stupid man, scratched his head, Death came quickly, but even wisdom stayed away. ‘Well then,’ he said, ’it seems to be true, I am a god, and anything is possible!’ 

What followed was folly born of power, for Shorty, the king of fools, began to wish. The cows became as colourful as rainbows, the chickens began to learn to talk. His pigs, oh wonder, rose gently, flew high above the land, like birds in the wind. Then he grew a beard as long as a rope, and his boots became golden bowls. Grain grew from stones, the rats began to sing, and water flowed backwards, the rivers gushed out of the mountains. 

But with every wish his misery swelled, the farmer, the labourer of the field, was lost in the chaos. ‘Oh,’ sighed Shorty, ’I've had enough. The flying of the pigs is no longer a comfort to me. What good is power to me if I remain a fool and not stupid enough to enter the absurdistani parliament that even the gods drive to despair?' And so he made his last wish: ‘Gods, I beg you, let me be mortal again, without desires, without power, just a simple man.’ 

And behold, fate was fulfilled. Shorty, the half-wit, was now back to his old self, a poor, dull farmer, but free from the burden. He stood in the field, alone with the stones, his plough without power, his wife without life. So he returned, humble and small, to the life that was meant for him, with nothing more than the earth and the plough's burden. 

© 2024 Q.A.Juyub = Aldhar Ibn Beju