#if the first part sounds like some christian ideas then yes i was raised like that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

waynecowles · 1 month

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Get To Work - Nathele Graham - [email protected]

First, we must understand that we cannot work for our salvation. Jesus did all the work, and what a price He paid for us. We can’t do anything to add to what Jesus Christ accomplished on the cross. That’s a blessing, but too often we are ungrateful and take it for granted. We need to share our faith with everyone. Why are we so selfish with our salvation? “I’m saved, but too bad for you”. That’s a very wrong attitude. The joy of our salvation should be a driving force in our life. We can’t earn our salvation, but we can show our gratitude to Jesus by sharing salvation with others. We all know people who mock and ridicule our faith, but worse than mocking us, they mock Jesus. Instead of getting angry at their ignorance, we need to put in some work. Ask yourself why you believe what you believe? Can you defend your faith? Most of us just parrot what somebody told us.

Ask yourself if the person who taught you had a true grasp of Scripture. There was a TV show many years ago where the mother was a Christian and tried raising her children to believe. The problem is, she didn’t have a clue about what she believed. All that mattered was that she was a Baptist. It takes work to study Scripture, but that’s the way to know God. Study Genesis chapter 1 and look up the Hebrew words. By doing so, you will understand that God created everything in six literal days. Yes, Peter says “But beloved, be not ignorant of this one thing, that one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.” 2 Peter 3:8.

Sounds like evolution could have happened, right? First, “scientists” think it took millions or billions of years, not a thousand. It might take some work on your part to study, but it's worth it. If you read a little further in that passage, you’ll see Peter is talking about God being outside of time and the Lord coming back. It seems long to us, but to God it isn’t long at all. Scoffers laugh at us for thinking Christ will take us Home, but the Rapture isn’t a new idea. Paul taught about it and God gave “pictures” in the Old Testament to show us.

For example, Enoch was Raptured prior to the judgment of the Flood. Why would God wait so long to return? That’s an easy question. His delay will allow more people to come to faith and not spend eternity in the Lake of Fire. “The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is longsuffering to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance.” 2 Peter 3:9.

If you study Scripture through prayer and guidance by the Holy Spirit, you won’t be confused by Satanic lies; you’ll be able to share God’s truth and hopefully bring someone to faith in Christ.

Prophecy is a very good tool for witnessing. Yes, it takes some work to study and understand, but there are many upsetting reports in the news that show us that prophecy is quickly being fulfilled. It takes work to study it and sort through misinterpretations. A very wrong misinterpretation of Scripture is replacement theology. You can’t find a passage in Scripture where God states He is done with Israel. Prophecy is easier to understand when you put Israel in the right focus. God has been angry with them at times, but He has never replaced them. Today we are living in an “in between” time, a pause if you want to look at it that way.

The prophet Daniel was given a prophecy that covers seventy weeks. That doesn’t sound like a long time, but a little study will reveal that in Jewish reckoning, there is a week of years. Just like if I say “I’ve lived 7 decades”, you know I’m 70 years old. So, this prophecy in Daniel is speaking of 70 weeks of years. That is 490 years. As you read through the prophecy, you will understand that Israel is very much still in God’s sight. “Seventy weeks are determined upon thy people and upon thy holy city, to finish the transgression, and to make an end of sins, and to make reconciliation for iniquity, and to bring in everlasting righteousness, and to seal up the vision and prophecy, and to anoint the most Holy.” Daniel 9:24.

Daniel was Jewish, so when this prophecy says “…upon thy people…” we can be certain it isn’t talking about Christians, but is talking about the Jewish people, and “…thy holy city… “is talking about Jerusalem. The One who will accomplish the things in this prophecy is Jesus. Only He can “…finish the transgression…make an end of sins… make reconciliation for iniquity…bring everlasting righteousness...” This is talking about their Messiah, Jesus Christ. Sadly, they rejected Him. The prophecy goes on to say that the Messiah will be “cut off” (crucified). This “in between” time in which we live is the time for Christians to get out and work for the Kingdom of God. We need to spread the Gospel to the lost. God doesn’t want anybody to perish, no matter what their sin. True repentance of sin will bring salvation through faith in Jesus, but people need to hear about Jesus.

Daniel 9:27 gives a quick look at what will happen soon. “And he shall confirm the covenant with many for one week: and in the midst of the week he shall cause the sacrifice and the oblation to cease, and for the overspreading of abominations he shall make it desolate, even until the consummation, and that determined shall be poured upon the desolate.” Daniel 9:27.

The “he” in this verse refers to the man of sin whom we call the Anti-Christ, The Anti-Christ is described in many prophecies throughout Scripture, including Revelation. If you study this verse of Daniel, as well as the following chapters, you will see that time is drawing to a close. In order for this evil person to stop the sacrifice and the oblation, there must be a Jewish Temple in place. This is going to happen very soon. The Jewish people have everything they need in order to build and use the Temple. We also know that the Anti-Christ will defile the Temple by setting himself up in the Holy of Holies. We all need to get to work sharing the Gospel so fewer people will be left behind.

During the time between the Messiah being “cut off” and present day, we are living in the “church age”. Christians have a job to do, and I think we have been shirking our duties. It’s up to us to spread the Gospel. Jesus was crucified, dead, and buried, but He conquered death and rose from the grave. That is what we need to share with this fallen world. “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” Romans 6:23.

Sin in this world is beyond comprehension. Only faith in Jesus can bring everlasting life. The governments of this world are trying hard to silence Christians, and they are accomplishing their goal. Brothers, and sisters, we can’t allow that to happen. Jesus Christ is the hope of the world, but the world is blinded by Satan. Just before He ascended to Heaven, Jesus gave His disciples a mission. “And Jesus came and spake unto them, saying, All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth. Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen.” Matthew 28:18-20.

Does that mean all of us need to go to deepest, darkest Africa or the Amazon jungle and spread the Gospel? Some people are called to do that, but our own neighborhoods are a mission field. You may be the only person who can reach a family member, or a friend with the Gospel. Remember the Rapture will happen only after a certain number of Gentiles accept the Gospel of Christ. The Jewish people are, for the most part, blind to the Gospel. “For I would not, brethren, that ye should be ignorant of this mystery, lest ye should be wise in your own conceits; that blindness in part is happened to Israel, until the fulness of the Gentiles be come in.” Romans 11:25.

It takes work to plant seeds of the Gospel, and we all need to start working for the Lord. There is a certain number, known only to God, that must come to faith before the Rapture. The best thing we can all do is get to work and share the Gospel with everybody we know. Prepare yourself to work for the Lord, so you can answer questions and be confident in your faith. “Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman, that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.” 2 Timothy 2:15.

Start studying to make sure you have a good understanding of God’s word. How can you teach a non-believer if you don’t understand the Gospel yourself?

One day, after Jesus had healed a blind man, His disciples had a question about if it was his sin or his parent’s sin that caused the blindness. “Jesus answered, Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him. I must work the works of him that sent me while it is day: the night cometh when no man can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” John 9:3-5.

Today we are the vessels through whom the Light shines. We will soon be taken out of this world. If you study prophecy, you will understand that Christians will not go through Daniel’s 70th week, but will be Raptured prior to its start. Revelation makes it clear that we will be called Home prior to the Anti-Christ being revealed and prior to the horrors of the Great Tribulation. The only way to be taken in the Rapture is to believe in the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Repent of your sin and be born again. Study of prophecy will show you that we are extremely close to the Rapture. When that happens, the Light will be gone from the world.

Start studying now. Share the Gospel. Get to work.

God bless you all,

Nathele Graham

[email protected]

Recommended prophecy sites:

www.raptureready.com

www.prophecyupdate.com

www.raptureforums.com

All original scripture is “theopneustos” God breathed.

If you would like to be on my mailing list to receive the commentaries just drop me an email and let me know.

“Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: they shall prosper that love thee.” Psalm 122:6.

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kinglouiswasthekingoffrance · 2 years

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SHAKESPEARE

1-24-23

Act2 scene 1

ANDREW: Here comes the fool.

FOOL: How now, my hearts? Did you never see the picture of "We Three"?

TOBY: Welcome, ass! Now let's have a catch.

I like this exchange from ACT II because it is funny the thought of being a fly on the wall and getting paid to be called an 'ass' and then sing songs.

Act2 scene 4

ORSINO: {giving money} There's for your pains.

FOOL: No pains, sir. I take pleasure in singing, sir.

ORSINO: I'll pay thy pleasure, then.

FOOL: Truly sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another.

I really do like this back and forth with the Fool and Orsino, because I think it represents a sincere thought of how the Fool views his role as bringing pleasure through music.

Act 3 scene 1

VIOLA: Save thee, friend, and thy music. Dost thou live by thy tabor?

FOOL: No, sir, I live by the church.

VIOLA: Art thou a churchman?

FOOL: No such matter, sir. I do live by the church, for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.

I really like this exchange because it is very witty especially from the point of view of the Fool, especially when he says that simply lives by the church, but that does not mean he is a churchman or has anything to do with the church, he just lives close to it.

1-30-23

Act 5 Scene 1

FOOL: Why, "some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon them." I think this is a good quote because it is true often in history especially concerning great leaders of history.

Merchant of Venice:

Act 1 Scene 1

ANTONIO: I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; a stage where every man must play a part, and mine a sad one. I like this line because it is line often quoted by Shakespeare.

Act 1 Scene 3

BASSANIO: If it please you to dine with us.

SHYLOCK: Yes, to smell pork; to eat of the habitation which your prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into. I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you. I like this exchange because what Shylock is saying about not eating, drinking or praying with Bassanio speaks to the obvious truth that Shylock being Jewish cannot do these things that Christian do because it runs against Jewish religious beliefs.

2-7-23

Act 2 Scene 8

SALANIO: The villain Jew with outcries raised the duke, who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. --By calling Shylock 'the villain Jew,' instead of just 'the Jew,' demonstrates here how Shylock is viewed by many in this play.

Act 3 Scene 1

SALANIO: Now, what news on the Rialto?

SALARIO: Why, yet it lives there unchecked that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wracking on the narrow seas...

I like this opening scene in Act 3 because I find it kind of funny that Antonio was counting on his ships to help pay off Shylock. Now that the ships are gone, all of a sudden there is this drama about what Antonio is going to do now

Act 4 Scene 1

SHYLOCK: ...you'll ask me why I rather choose to have a weight of carrion flesh than to receive three thousand ducats: I'll answer that: but say it is my humor...

This part of the line in court that Shylock gives to explain why he would rather get some flesh than receive money. His 'humor' is the expectation that Jews only care about money and only money, so to appease this bit of humor that has become his own humor that he now owns, he chooses a pound of flesh instead. I like this line from Shylock, because it demonstrates some of the pressure he has felt about stereotypes Christian and other non Jews feel concerning Jewish motives such as the idea of worshipping money.

Week 5

Coriolanus Act 1 Scene 1

First Citizen: If I must not, I not be barren of accusations; he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition. [Shouts within.] What shouts are these? The other side of the city is risen: why stay we prating here? to the Capitol!---------So, this sounds like there is some discontent brewing early in this play. First Citizen's shout 'to the Capitol' makes me think of the march to the Capitol in 2021 in Washington DC.

Act I Scene 2

Aufidius: ...'tis not four days gone since I heard thence; these are the words: I think I have the letter here; yes, here it is [reads] 'They have pressed a power, but it is not known whether for east or west; the dearth is great; the people are mutinous... so they are in the senate discussing the restlessness in the streets of Rome. I like this people it helps to heighten the sense of tension and the concern about what the citizens of Rome might do to harm the government of Rome.

Act II Scene 1

Menenius: In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two have not in abundance? Brutus: He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all. Sicinius: Especially in pride. Brutus: And topping all others is boasting. --------I like this exchange between Menenius and Brutus and Sicinius because it is witty and also because it reveals how the two of them view the character of Marcius

Week 6

Act III Scene 1

Coriolanus: As for my country, I have shed my blood, not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs coin words till their decay against those measles... I like this because as Coriolanus was giving his speech, other senators were expressing that they wished he would just stop talking, he was like why should a man that has gone those so much for his country not be allow to speak fully.

Act III Scene 2

Coriolanus: Let them pull all about mine ears, present me death on the wheel or at wild horses' heels, or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian Rock.... I like this quote because it further expresses the feeling that Coriolanus has regarding how the populous feels about him.

Act IV Scene 1

Coriolanus: ....Nay, mother, where is your ancient courage? you were used to say extremity was the trier of spirits... I like how Coriolanus was trying to remind his mother about the honor and courage that she had espoused.

Week 7

Act 1 Scene 1 Henry IV

KING: ....O, that it could be proved that some night-tripping fairy had exchanged in cradle-clothes our children where they lay, and called mine 'Percy,' his 'Plantagenet' ! ----I found it an interesting thought of what a 'night-tripping fairy' would look like?

Act 1 Scene 2

When asked about the time, this is how Prince responded: .....What the devil hast thou to do with the time of day? Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame colored taffeta, I see no reason why thou shoouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of day.-----This is a really funny answer to a simple question. I love the visuals which are all over this quote.

Act 2 Scene 1

Second Carrier: I have a gammon of bacon and two races of ginger to be delivered as far as Charing Cross. -----There is interesting language sometimes with phrases like 'gammon of bacon,' or 'race of ginger,' which I could only understand if I look up the meaning. It is fun to learn new phrases from Shakespeare!

Week 8

Act 4 Scene 1

HOT SPUR: Zounds, how has he the leisure to be sick in such a hustling time........I like how Hot Spur complaints about something that can't be helped: like being sick.

Act 4 Scene 3

HOT SPUR: The King is kind, and well we know the King knows at what time to promise, when to pay. My father and my uncle did give him that same royalty he wears......after Blunt sends his message from the King, Hot Spur has an interesting reply in that he reminds him of how his father kind of man him the person that he had become.

Act 5 Scene 1

KING: How bloodily the sun begins to peer above yon bulky hill. The day looks pale at his distemperature.......I like this opening line of Act 5 by the King, because it is funny the way he describes the sun as being 'bloody' which is probably an accurate description, but I would never think to use that word, maybe I would say 'fiery red sun' or something like that.

Week 10

Henry V Act I Scene I

When Bishop of Ely stated that the King was 'a true lover of the holy Church, Bishop of Canterbury answered:

BISHOP OF CANTERBURY: "....the breath no sooner left his fathers body but that his wildness, mortified in him, seemed to die too. Yea, at that very moment consideration like an angel came and whipped the offending Adam out of him, leaving his body as a paradise t' envelope and contain celestial spirits..." I like these lines because it helps me as the reader get an idea of what the King's mental condition is.

Act I Scene 2

It is funny how when the bishops are speaking amongst themselves, they are so free to express how they really feel about the King, but the exchange below at the top of Scene 2 demonstrates how he must speak when in the presence of the King:

BISHOP OF CANTERBURY: "God and angels guard your sacred throne and make you long become it."

ACT I Scene 2

A little further down in scene 2 around line 255, the Ambassador and the King have a funny exchange regarding his youthful pastime:

AMBASSADOR: ......"he therefore sends to you, meeter for your spirit, this tun of treasure and, I lieu of this , desires you let the dukedoms that you claim hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks."

KING HENRY: What treasure, uncle?

EXETER: Tennis balls, my liege.

Wk 12 4-4-2023

Henry V Act 4 Scene 1

CHORUS:" ...fire answers fire, and through their paly flames each battle sees the other's umbered face; stead threatens steed I high and boastful neighs piercing the night's dull ear..." I like the opening line from the chorus because it serves to demonstrate what is going on in the field of battle.

Act 4 Scene 1

KING HENRY: ..."'Tis good for men to love their present pains upon example. So the spirit is eased; and when the mind is quickened, out of doubt, the organs though defunct and dead before, break up their drowsy grave and newly move with casted slough and fresh legerity..." I like how when Erpingham speaks of sleeping like a king, King Henry responds by giving a very unflattering account of the effect such a sleep for the King would be like.

Act 4 Scene 1

PISTOL: "The King's a bawcock and a heart of gold, a lad of life, an imp of fame, of parents good, of fist most valiant. I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heartstring I love the lovely bully..." I like this exchange between King Henry and Pistol because it's funny how Pistol responses to the King when the King says: "Then you are a better than the King?" and with that he makes a response which sounds flattering because he uses words like 'gold..fame' but he says 'imp of fame' and I kiss not just his shoe but his 'dirty shoe' which makes it extra funny.

Week 13: 4-11-2023

Antony & Cleopatra

Act 1 Scene 1

ANTONY: "Let Rome in Tiber melt and the wide arch of the ranged empire fall. Here is my space. Kingdoms are clay..." I think that Antony's attitude in regard to the Roma Empire might be foreshadowing how he might deal with Rome once he gains power.

Act 1 Scene 2

CHARMIAN: Good sir, give me good fortune.

SOOTHSAYER: I make not, but foresee.

CHARMIAN: Pray the, foresee me one.

SOOTHSAYER: You shall be yet far fairer than you are.

CHARMIAN: He means in flesh.

IRAS: No, you shall paint when you are old.

CHARMIAN: Wrinkles forbid!

I just found this to be a fun exchange and it will be interesting to see if this interaction will play an important role later in the play.

Act 1 Scene 3

CLEOPATRA: Why should I think you could be mine, and true-though you in swearing shake the throned gods-who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness, to be entangled with those mouth-made vows which break themselves in swearing. ------These are great lines from Cleopatra as she is going back and forth with Antony...and it is funny to see how Antony is trying to reassure her that everything is okay in his response to her concerns.

Week 14 4-18-2023

Act 1 Scene 4

CAESAR:" ....On the Alps it is reported thou didst eat strange flesh which some did die to look on." I like how Caesar here is tearing down the character of Pompey's military coming over the Alps to invade Rome.

Act 2 Scene 1

When Menas speaks of how ignorant they are, and that they are begging for their own harm, Pompey responds like this:

POMPEY: I shall do well. The people love me, and the sea is mine; my powers are crescent, and my auguring hope says it will come to the full. Mark Antony in Egypt sits at dinner, and will make no wars without doors. Caesar gets money where he loses heart. Lepidus flatters both, of both is flattered; but he neither loves, nor either cares for him. --------I just like the way that Pompey knows how to characterize all of this adversaries which is a good quality I think.

Act 2 Scene 2

Antony here says something interesting in regard to Pompey:

ANTONY: "I did not think to draw my sword against Pompey, for he hath laid strange courtesies and great of late upon me...." ----I am just picturing Pompey saying and doing all kinds of nice things to Antony to disarm him and cause him to like him.

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atwas-meme-ing · 2 years

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It sounds like you have no idea why you're actually "homophobic" and you're just going along with whatever you think you're supposed to believe to be a "good Christian." You know you're allowed to question the bible, right? Not every part of it was hand-written by God or Jesus Himself, most of the book was reinterpreted by human beings who placed their own biases and beliefs into the writings. If you don't actually know *why* God doesn't like gay people, why do you? Why go along with something you don't understand, blindly? Why say any of those things publicly, on a website like Tumblr, knowing how many queer people are on here anyway? Speaking as someone raised Catholic, I think you're here because you see yourself in us. You may not be LGBTQ yourself, but something in our lives and journeys obviously connects with you, otherwise you wouldn't enjoy the media you do, use this website, or have even posted that testimony in the first place. I'm not reaching out to hate on you, but I genuinely think you need to do some serious introspection on why the lives of LGBT folks matter to you so much. Nothing good comes from living a life of choices made for you by other people. You have to decide for yourself how you want to act, what you want to say, and who/what you want to love. You deserve to live a life as yourself, just like any other human being.

All right, I'll answer this one, at least the, "Not every part of it was hand-written by God or Jesus Himself, most of the book was reinterpreted by human beings who placed their own biases and beliefs into the writings" part:

2 Timothy 3:16 All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness:

2 Peter 1:16-21 For we have not followed cunningly devised fables, when we made known unto you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but were eyewitnesses of his majesty. For he received from God the Father honour and glory, when there came such a voice to him from the excellent glory, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased. And this voice which came from heaven we heard, when we were with him in the holy mount. We have also a more sure word of prophecy; whereunto ye do well that ye take heed, as unto a light that shineth in a dark place, until the day dawn, and the day star arise in your hearts: Knowing this first, that no prophecy of the scripture is of any private interpretation. For the prophecy came not in old time by the will of man: but holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost.

Either every word in the Bible was handwritten by God, or none of it was. It can't be one or the other. I choose to believe it was.

Anything else that I could say, about what I think is the reason homosexuality is a sin (btw, God doesn't hate or dislike gays- He hates sin, but not the person, He actually loves every human being that has ever lived and ever will live), or why I think God wants me on Tumblr, is just that, it's just what I think is the reason.

If you're interested in my thoughts on these matters, I have a side blog, @just-bible-musings, that I just started specifically to go into detail on my thoughts on the Bible, the church today, Christians, all that kind of stuff. I could post my thoughts on why I think God calls homosexuality a sin. (I probably will at some point, anyway.) I post on that blog every Sunday morning. It wouldn't be tomorrow, because I have a post scheduled about something that happened this week, but I could start making posts about these things beginning next week.

#Bible verses #Bible reference

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nerdyelvenpolitologist · 2 years

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Witcher is not Slavic! It’s Polish. But in a good way.

Warning: It’s long post. And I didn’t even covered all I wanted. Also I’m not really used to write in English so sorry for mistakes. I tried to find links to as many English translations to things I mention as I could.

That’s the one. True Pole.

There is a lot talking about how slavic The Witcher is. Monsters, believes ect… But it’s not. The Witcher was written by Andrzej Sapkowski, who was a fan of fantasy and he wrote fantasy. Based on what he knew from the genre. But also it was written by Polish author, in Polish language, for Polish readers and to be published in Poland. We can say many things about Sapkowski, but one thing is certain, he is great writer. It’s really easy to forget and I’m kinda suprised everytime I read the books. So our Wiedźmin was a fantasy stories, then saga, wtitten by fantasy fan that did’t pretend that he wasn’t from Poland.

So you get referances to King Arthur’s legends (like it’s main inspiration later in books), you get classical fairy tales like Little Mermaid (Bit of Sacrifice - my favourite story) or Snow White (Renfri). In Time of Contempt (Czas Pogardy) when Ciri first meets the Wild Hunt (and yes, wild hunt appears somewhere in Slavic mythology but mostly it’s conected to German, Norse and Celtic ones) it’s basicly re-telling of The Erl-King by Goethe.

The Erl-King

But there are also other inspirations. In the story with golden dragon the villagers tried to kill the first dragon (that just had baby dragon) by giving her sheep stuffed with sulfur, tar and belladona. Then they also suggest to give it to the golden one. Sounds ridiculus, right? Well, if you were born in Poland you know from very young age that giving dragon a sheep stuffed with sulfur is a best way to kill one! That’s how Szewczyk Dratewka killed the dragon that live under the Wawel castle in Kraków.

That’s the statue of said dragon under Wawel castle. Yes, it really breaths fire.

Also Duny, the hedgehog in knight’s armor may seems a little odd. But most children in Poland will find it completly normal and on top of that they will know that love can break the curse. The idea is based on a poem from one of the most popular poets that wrote for children (not only) – Jan Brzechwa. It’s called Baśń o Stalowym Jeżu – The Tale of Steel Hedgehog and it’s really beautiful, sadly i did’t find any English translation.

I remember as my mom read me this when I was little.

You have to understand that we don’t really learn at schools about Slavic mythology. According to books before baptism there were Pagans, they had some believes and then history of Poland starts with Christianity. It’s bullshit but yeah. So even about Dziady (Forefather’s Eve) we learn as we read Mickiewicz’s book of the same title. Or we hear some local stories. I always knew a lot about witches’ sabbaths on Łysa Góra (Bald Mountain – it was also quest in Witcher 3) because it’s my region.

Second part of Dziady by Adam Mickiewicz, the one that covers Forefather’s Eve ritual is actually one of the few books everyone reads at school.

And that’s Łysa Góra. Most known place of witches sabbaths. And actual place of Pagan cult. Part of my home region.

Sapkowski took inspirations from what he knew. Nothing more and nothing less. And thanks to that, as we were raised in the same culture we also know it and recognize it. But the thing i most enjoy is the climate of the books. Because I read these books and it’s clear that it’s now based in Poland and characters are not Polish. But wen I read it you can feel that it’s… homey. These are little bits that sadly were lost in translations.

In Kraniec Świata – story with Torque the Silvan and elves, when Geralt is looking for a job and he’s talking to villagers, when i read this I KNOW that the author is from Poland. In the first village when they talk about everything bad that is happening in their village and how it must be made by monsters, and also about old Nachakowa (Old Nan the Hag) and some officials and some neighbourly quarrels - I was like „Yeah, guys, I feel ya. I work with clients too”. But what was lost in translation were Nietopyrze. In Ensligh translations it was translated as „bats” and it’s kinda correct. But the proper word for “bats” in Polish is “nietoperze”. “Nietopyrze” is a form that is associated with people from small villages that lacks an education. And even Geralt is kinda making fun of that. Then when they’re talking about Silvan they say „diaboł” insted of „diabeł” (meaning devil and it’s same situation as before). Here even Jaskier corrects them by saying „Diabłów nie ma” („There are no devils”) and the Duhn insists that it’s „diaboł”. And of course there old lady that everyone reffers to as „grandma”. We still have that. Even in cities.

The faces of people that have to talk to people at work. That’s Jaskier and Geralt from Polish tv series btw.

Btw when i read about these villages I thing about my grand-grandmother’s house that I visited when I was a child. There were no shop in the village, and even no church. The church was in the village near by. But we had farmlands there – I remember picking up potatoes, we had chickens that we used to get eggs (they were also used for soups but luckily I never saw that). And there were no toilet in the house, no gas – there were tiled stove. But we had a horse! These are my memories, welcome to Poland.

But as we talk about people, it’s time to explain why I added that The Witcher is Polish but in a „good way”. Sometimes when I see comments on the internet there are just ones about how every character should be white and straight because it’s Polish book and of course in Poland everyone is white and straight. Exept it’s not the case and never was. And The Witcher was written by male fantasy author in 90s. And it’s leftish as hell.

The Continent is not Poland, it’s very clear. The characters have names from all over the world which also suggest that THEY ARE NOT POLISH. And there are evles. We never had elves in Poland. Rusałki yes, but not elves. And the whole series is a manifest on how discrimination based of someone’s nacionality, race, looks, proffesion etc. is leading to death and destruction. It’s also about what happens if we destroy nature. And women are the ones in charge. Socceres are using kings as their puppets. The patriatchy is criticized (Calanthe). Femine forms? Hell yeah! Ciri is a Wiedźminka (female form from the Witcher) not Wiedźmin. She’s a girl alfter all. And she can bothe learn to fight and how to kill monsters and wear makeup because she feels like it and she won’t practice because she doesn’t feel good when she’s on her period. Yes, Sapkowski in 90s decided that it’s important to mention that a teenage girl have period. And he made fun of how men don’t think about it and how uncomfortable they get when someone mentions is. This scene with Triss were much more important in books then in Netflix series where she just mentions it.

But as we talk about women – Yeneffer is helping with unwanted pragnancies (of course for money but don’t expect her to do anything for free) and Geralt calls women’s right to choose sacred. Yes, our beloved White Wolf is pro choice. Also sorceresses are cononicly bisexual. And faith fanatics are bad guys while most (if not all) good characters are atheists. That’s also how our country works till this day.

So yes, Witcher is Polish but in a way that we fight for justice, freedom, for equal rights. If you want to write stories based on The Witcher it don’t have to be Slavic. You can use Andersen’s or Brothers Grimms’ fairy tales. You can use stories you heard as a child. Other mythologies. Even other fantasy works. Because it’s what Sapkowski did. He took what he knew and he happend to know what was known in Poland. And of course you CAN use Slavic myths. But you can also read some legends as the one about Wawel’s dragon. Or about knights sleeping under Giewont mountain. Or some poems – Mickiewicz or Leśmian for example. I love Leśmian. Maybe I will write a post about these Polish legends and poems that would add to the lore. What do you think?

Slavic mythology IS NOT A CANON. But feminism, ecologism, equality IS A CANON. Remember about that.

#the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #witcher #poland #witcher meta #yennefer of vengerberg #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #wiedzmin #hexer #polish culture

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 15

Hannibal gives y/n an idea and y/n negotiates.

@viviace @deadman-inc-bikeshop @dovahdokren

Trigger warnings: graphic descriptions of violence

Aftercare was Hannibal's favorite part of the evening. He loved to spend long, indulgent hours pampering his darlings. But usually, there was only one. And that was Will. And Hannibal's clawfoot bathtub, although beautiful, was not big enough for both of you at the same time. Meaning, you had to take turns.

You and Will argued back and forth about who was in more desperate need of aftercare; each advocating for the other, of course. That was Hannibal's fault, really. He should have known better than to ask you to make a decision.

Hannibal emerged from the bathroom, sleeves rolled up and arms soaked to the elbow. "Who is first?"

Before you could speak, Will shoved you forward. "She is."

Hannibal knew better than to let the argument go on, and so did you. You followed him into the bathroom, the smell of lavender bath salts filling the air.

He removed your fluffy robe and watched you step into the warm bath. The water was just hot enough to soothe the aches in your muscles. Hannibal took his seat at the end of the tub where you rested your head. You leaned back and submerged your whole body.

“You have such soft hair.” Hannibal said, pouring a bit of expensive-smelling shampoo in his palm.

“Thanks, I use fabric softener and tumble dry it on low heat.” You answered.

“You have a hard time accepting compliments, don’t you?” He probed, beginning to lather the shampoo into your hair. “Between that and the self-deprecation, I’d say you suffer from low self-esteem.”

You felt yourself melting into him. The hypnotic motions of his hands chipped away at your defenses. “Is that really that surprising?”

“For such an intelligent, sophisticated young beauty?” Hannibal chuckled. “I am surprised you don’t understand your worth.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” You offered. “The fact that a psychotic cokehead fundamentalist Christian cult leader wants me dead tells me I’m doing something right.”

“You are a force of nature, my indulgence.” Hannibal assured you, still massaging your head. “But you don’t need me to tell you that. You already know your power.”

That got you thinking. Would it be so bad to just find a hunting rifle and blow Chase Mulvaney’s head off? What was stopping you? It certainly wasn’t your conscious. All your remaining moral fiber had been ripped to shreds over the course of the last month.

“Tell me something about yourself, Hannibal.” You said, leaning back.

“What would you like to know?” He asked, retracting his hands. He cupped his hands in the water and poured some over your hair.

“Do you ever think about morality?” You said, bluntly.

The question pleasantly surprised him. “Quite a bit, actually. I like to think of myself as a student of philosophy, which deals heavily with the subject of ethics, human behavior, and yes, morality.”

“Do you believe morality is subjective?” you tilted your head.

“There’s not a doubt in my mind about it.” Hannibal smiled. “Those who think otherwise usually exemplify some of the best arguments for subjective morality.”

“Religious nuts like Chase Mulvaney.” You said. “He and millions of others believe in objective morality, but can’t even keep it consistent among themselves.”

“Darling,” Hannibal whispered. “You don’t have to wait for aftercare to talk philosophy with me. I would be happy to do so anytime.”

You spent a half hour in the bath, Hannibal stroking, kissing and cuddling you. As much as you wanted to enjoy the affection, your mind was elsewhere. Perhaps it was just a hyperfixation, or post-multiple-orgasm clarity, but the only thought in your head was that Chase Mulvaney had to die.

Your train of thought was chugging along smoothly until it was derailed by the violent buzzing of your phone against the tile floor. You leaned over the side of the tub, trying to make out the contact name from across the room.

Hannibal dried his hands on a nearby towel and picked the phone up from the ground.

“Who is it?” You asked.

“This number is logged into your phone as just a picture of a...red demon?” Hannibal answered.

“Oh, yeah.” You dropped your head. “I’ll call her back, just let it ring out.”

“Who’s the demon?” Hannibal chuckled.

You stepped out of the bathtub and reached for a towel. “Just somebody I know from work. Probably calling about covering a shift or something.”

“Would that be the same person who believed I was the devil?” Hannibal raised an eyebrow, watching you wrap the towel around yourself.

You were about to say yes, but caught yourself. “No. Just some lady I work with who always refused to share her tips with the buses. Super entitled, total pain in the ass. I’ve been looking for an excuse to tell her off.”

“Well, we can’t keep you from that, now can we.” Hannibal cupped your cheek in his hand and looked at your face admiringly. “There should be a clean nightgown for you on the bed. Please tell Will I’ll be ready for him in a couple minutes.”

“Wow, you really did think of everything.” You rocked back on your heels and swung to your tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll let him know.”

He kissed you back. “Thank you, my indulgence.”

“Just one more thing.” You stopped in the threshold. “Could I please use your computer?”

“I don’t see why not.” Hannibal looked up from the quickly draining tub. “By all means, what’s mine is yours.”

You smiled and blew him a kiss before absconding into the bedroom.

The nightgown he’d laid out for you had far more ruffles and lace than you’d consider appropriate for sleepwear, but it was comfortable and fit you well.

You passed the message along to Will, but hurriedly. You were in a rush to be alone. You had some business to attend to.

You sat at Hannibal's desk, turned on his lamp and logged into your google drive on his computer. While you waited for the content to fully load, you scrolled through your contacts. When you found the demon, you pressed the green dial button.

It didn't take her long to pick up. "[F/N]! Finally, I've been trying to call you all night."

"Yeah, I know." You rolled your eyes. "Some of us have lives to live. Not that you'd know anything about that."

"No need to be snippy." She scolded. "I have an offer for you."

"If it doesn't involve a portion of ad revenue, I'm not interested." You shook your head. "I'm not settling for a flat fee while you make the real money off my experience. My goddamn trauma."

"Sounds like we woke up and chose bitchy today." She teased. "You're not even going to hear me out?"

"Freddie," you began, pulling up a document on the computer. "I happen to have a four-page, comprehensive statement of what happened that night right here. Half of it was cut out for the FBI report."

You could practically hear Freddie drooling already. "And?"

"I won't accept anything under $1200 for it." You finished. "Or 30% of all ad revenue on this article."

"That's not fair." She protested. "Best I can do is $750."

"You made ten times that off my first article." You leaned back in the chair. "Don't try to lowball me, Lounds, I can do this all night."

"Since when were you the assertive type?" She asked, deflecting the conversation.

"Remember when you told me my fifteen minutes of fame was running out and you were my only option to get my story out there?" You recalled.

"At the time, I was right." Freddie contested.

"That was before Chase went from a cokehead to a domestic terrorist." You said. "Now I actually can take it to a more reputable outlet."

"But here you are anyway." She said. "Extorting a small, woman-owned independent news site just for the hell of it. I've got bills to pay, y'know."

"With gaslighting like that, I'm sure they're astronomical." You rolled your eyes. Sighing, you propped your knees against the desk. "Look, I don't hate you, Freddie."

"I don't hate you either." She agreed. "I thought trashing each other was just our mutual love language."

"The only reason I'm considering TattleCrime at all is you." You admitted. "You're loud and unapologetic and it makes people listen to you. I need someone who can take the heat."

"Because you know that mainstream news outlets are going to cut your writing down to maintain the status quo." Freddie finished your thought.

You pursed your lips. "Exactly. You're the only one who's got the cajones to run the whole story."

"I'm flattered." She said, then paused. "If I move some things around, I can probably get you $1000."

You opened a new tab and typed some words into the search bar. You scrolled through the results, leaving Freddie without an answer.

"Hello?" She said. "[F/N]? Did I lose you?"

"How soon can you pay?" You asked.

Your phone buzzed. You had a notification from paypal. A thousand dollars from Fredrica Lounds.

"Right fucking now." She answered.

"You've got yourself a deal." You said, firmly. You typed out Freddie's email address and pushed send. "It's all yours."

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal x you #will graham x you #hannibal x will #hannibal x you x will #hannibal x reader x will #will graham x reader #will graham #the sommelier #hannigram #hannigram x you #hannigram x reader #aftercare #fluff #freddie lounds

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thepaperpanda · 4 years

Text

♥ Dangerously Perfect Match ♥ || Part II

♥Part I♥

Summary: You’re the Earl of little settlement deep inside the forests of Norway. After Ragnar Lothbrok’s death you and your warriors travel to England to support Ragnar’s sons in the battle against Christians. Shortly after a victory, you and Ivar turned out to be a dangerously perfect match?

Warnings: explicit content - smut

Words: 8846

Authors: Cass & Rouge

It's not that you all expected plain sailing, or for winds to be kind, the waves to be gentle; it's that you trusted your ships to carry yourselves to shore no matter the weather. It was a confidence born of faith, of feeling to your bones that with such tenacity you could achieve anything at all. They said it's only impossible until it's done, that was your motto under all skies, upon all seas.

Thankfully, Gods fostered your attempts of getting back to Norway - despite the storms and heavy rain, all the longships made it back to the homeland.

A smile spread across your lips, it was good to be back home.

Dressed in your usual attire with addition of a new warm cloak gifted by Ivar, you stood at the front of your ship. Holding the ropes tightly you turned to your troops. "We made it, friends! Gods blessed us and allowed us to return home so we can fight yet another day!,” You yelled and your people's voices reared loudly.

Ivar kept his eyes fixed on you since the moment you left England. He wasn't truly happy with you sailing among your warriors but it's your decision, with which he couldn't argue. They needed their Earl after all. He rolled head back to rest it against the wooden edge of the boat.

"Land sighted, master!," One of his men shouted.

"Drop the canvas," Ivar ordered as he propped head on the edge of the boat to admire the beautifulness of the shoreline.

Of course, his glance also moved to look at you. Oh, how he missed your body next to his.

Hvitserk's tone pulled him out of thoughtfulness. "Are you sure it's a good idea? Harald Finehair isn't a person you can fully trust."

"I trust no one," Ivar snapped back. "I have the last say."

You walked among your people, gently touching the shoulders of your warriors. It was a simple gesture, a little bit of a comfort and small thanks for their loyalty.

For now this was all you could do, to show your gratitude toward them all.

The ship moored in Harald's docks. You heard a lot about him and his ambitions, and honestly you expected much more from his settlement.

After jumping off of your ship you let out a sigh of relief. Solid ground under your feet. "I hope you didn't miss me too much, Ivar?," You asked him with a cocky smile which was partially hidden by your mask. Since it was damaged in the battle you didn't bother to fix it or make a new you. It was enough your scars weren't fully visible.

Ivar's blue eyes glistened in the rays of the setting sun, and his long lashes casted a little shadow on his clearly defined cheeks. "You need to answer this question to yourself, dear Earl."

After these words he passed you, offering you a mischievous grin as he did.

Hvitserk, who jumped out of the boat on the pier, gave you a long glance, his brows cocked. "Why are you questioning such an obvious thing?"

The red line on his nose reminded you about your last true interaction back in York. "It's called teasing, Hvitserk. Men love it. It's time to learn it."

Humming, you quickly boarded the ship that brothers traveled in. You crouched in front of the bishop and gently caressed his cheek to see if he even survived the long trip.

Man instantly reacted to your touch; he winced and spat right into your face. "Get off me, heathen whore."

You flinched and growled, wiping the spit of your face. Getting up to your feet, you pointed at one of your men. "Bring me one of my furs." Once the fur was in your hands, you wrapped it around the man that just insulted you. "Since Ivar has big predictions when it comes to you. The last thing we want is you getting ill."

Bishop was glaring up at you, not being sure whether you were mocking him or not. Your behavior was completely out of anything he could have expected. Deep inside Heahmund appreciated the fur being wrapped around his shoulders as he was cold.

"Now. You should be all warm," you muttered, tucking the fur in all the right places to shield him completely from the bitter cold. "Now, you can say that a heathen whore helped you." After those words you simply walked away to join Ivar and Hvitserk.

Two men tugged on the ropes wrapped tightly around his neck and wrists, pulling bishop behind them. He hated his position, but it was still better than death from pagans hands.

Harald groaned annoyed, getting comfortable in his throne. Last thing he expected or really needed was Ragnarssons visiting him. He already knew that young Ivar meant troubles. King watched them walk inside the great hall.

Hvitserk was the first one in, taking a comfortable for him spot on one of the tables, while Ivar shuffled behind with his crutch.

To his surprise there was one more visitor; a young woman in a mask. Suddenly the visit became much more interesting. "Ivar and Hvitserk Lothbrok. Why did you not return to Kattegat? I can also see you brought an interesting guest," Harald said with his deep, hoarse voice, pointing his finger at you.

Ivar stopped at the podium and leaned his weight on his crutches. "She's my guest," he said, pointing his chin on you. "You know we couldn't return to Kattegat. That witch, Lagherta, is still a Queen. Me and my brother are looking for alliances that could let us overtake the throne. The throne that belongs to us."

Harald raised from his throne and walked closer to the guests, nodding his head. "Ah, yes. As I can see your need for revenge on Lagertha is burning with a flame that will never go out." King smiled and took your hands into his much bigger and warmer palms. "I know the sons of Ragnar but I have never seen you with any of them. Who are you?"

"My people call me Earl Wolf but my name is Y/N. It's an honor to meet the future king of whole Norway," you said with your voice sweet as honey.

"The pleasure is all mine, Y/N," Harald said before placing a kiss to your palm.

Ivar kept his face straight but the fact you let Harald touch you pierced his heart like a cold needle. "Can we get to the planning? I am not going to spend another hour waiting for you two to exchange pleasantries," young man growled.

Hvitserk, who observed the entire situation while standing in the back of the chamber, snorted quietly. He would never think his brother fell in love so easily.

"Ivar. You brought a beautiful woman in and don't even let me take all of her beauty in," king rolled his eyes.

"As a lady, you flatter me but as the Earl I need to agree. We came here in important matters," you said. "social talks can wait until much calmer times. I can promise you we will have a moment for ourselves."

Listening to you, Harald smiled softly and nodded. "Beautiful and smart. Let's get to planning then. Ivar, I am listening. What do you expect?"

Ivar turned head to throw you a cold glance; did you just plan to spend some time with Harald? Did you really say it aloud in his presence?

"Let's get somewhere where not many curious eyes are on us."

Hvitserk, seeing how his brother and rest are moving to another chamber, followed them.

Oh, Ivar was mad. This is exactly what you wanted, your plan was to rile him up and to see if something interesting will happen. You followed them to be present during the planning.

Talks were long and boring.

Ivar and Harald were arguing for a long time and it wasn't about troops anymore.

The youngest Ragnarson wanted to be the king of the Kattegat after chasing Lagertha, Bjørn and Ubbe away.

At the same time Harald wanted to carry on his great dream of ruling whole Norway.

Thankfully, in the end, they somehow found a way to agree on something.

"You will be a king but when you die the title is passed on me," Harald said, rubbing his forehead.

You let out a little yawn and rubbed your eyes tired. Travel and long boring planning took a toll on you.

Hvitserk didn't say anything during talks; instead, he ate at least four apples and was playing with his little dagger which he used to cut the fruits. It wasn't his thing, all the great planning. All he wanted to do was to return back to Kattegat which was his true home. He didn't really want to stand against Bjørn or Ubbe, but did he have other choice? The decision was made the day he got out of the ship to join his youngest brother.

Ivar put his chalice on the table, nodding briefly at Harald's words. "Sounds like we have it. Just don't be surprised if I'll rule for many long years." The Boneless got up from the chair he sat at and using his crutches, he slowly walked off.

"My men will take care of that Christian prisoner of yours, Ivar," Harald said. "Whatever his point is. If I were you I would just kill him."

You let a soft sigh and decided to join Hvitserk, silently asking him for a piece of an apple.

"But you're not me," Ivar smirked widely at Harald and left.

Hvitserk was highly surprised by your request, but of course, as he had a good soul, he shared one huge apple with you, cutting it in half so it would be easier for you to eat. "You're welcome," he muttered slightly.

"Thank you, Hvitserk. You are a kind soul," you gave him a sweet smile and looked at Harald. "My king? May I know where I can find our prisoner?”

When you received the seeked answer, you bowed your head and walked off.

Bishop was held in a barn, tied to a metal pole in the middle which provided the stability to the roof and construction itself.

His hands were weak as he was forced to hold them above his head for the entire time. The blood circulation faltered and he barely could feel his fingers anymore. Yet, bishop Heahmund was praying quietly. Man was saturated with the intelligent energy of countless prayers - as such being able to carry out supernatural acts. "Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentem, Creatorem caeli et terrae; et in Iesum Christum, Filium eius unicum, Dominum nostrum...," He was whispering all the time.

You stopped in the door and watched him, praying, it was quite an interesting sight.

"Those have to be a made up babble. No one speaks like this," saying this, you stepped inside and smiled seeing your fur on him, so you dared to point it out. "They let you keep it."

"What do you want, heathen?," He asked weakly. "If you came to kill me, I'll gladly accept my faith. I'm ready, in my God.

As if nothing ever happened, you simply placed yourself on his laps. "You know... I am just a heathen to you but I do have a real name. Maybe I should call you Christian from now on? What do you say, Heahmund?” You presented him the piece of an apple you got from Hvitserk and smiled innocently. "I also brought you this."

"Get off me, woman," he tried to kick you off, but your hips pressed to his side's strongly, holding him motionless. "I don't need your mercy!"

"It's not a mercy. It's called help, you Christian don't know what it is?," You asked with a smile, purposely pressing your hand into him. "Come on, I am sure you are hungry."

He indeed was hungry. Heahmund parted his lips, waiting for you to slip a slice of apple into his mouth.

"Good boy. See? I am not so bad," you chuckled and slipped the slice into his mouth. "I'll get you more if you will want."

He chewed viciously, gagging himself with a not fully chewed piece of the fruit. Truth was he was starving for the last few days and he would give everything for a piece of bread.

"Slow down, we are not going to starve you. I'll make sure of this," you said quietly, touching his shoulder.

He almost gasped as the skin under his clothes were bruised and swollen.

"Right, they got you bad during that battle. Maybe I should undress you and take care of these injuries?," You asked in a hushed voice. "I am sure you would feel much better. You need to be in good shape since Ivar has great plans for you."

Bishop's eyes fixed on your face. He hated your touch on his body but you didn't try to kill him.

Looking him in the eyes your hand started to unbutton the upper part of his armor, not breaking the eye contact for even one second.

Little did you know a pair of incredibly blue eyes were watching your every move. Ivar leant his forehead against the wooden wall of the barn, clenching teeth and rolling palm in a fist. He offered you everything, yet you were still chasing the fucking, useless priest. What man had that he didn't? He felt a strange thing, a twinge of envy.

Slowly you pulled away the armor and hissed, seeing his injury. "Oh, you poor thing, just look at what they did to you." You hand gently touched his skin, making sure to not press the blue and purple spots.

You could hear noises outside the building.

Bishop's eyes widened as he looked past you.

Three warriors, every of them armed in axes walked out of the darkness of the room. "Earl Wolf, you're going with us. Now."

You glared over your shoulder with bored and annoyed look

"What do you want, huh? I am busy, who is even summoning me in such a terrible moment?," You almost growled.

"Now," one of the men repeated and showed the exit with his ax.

Rolling your eyes you let out a loud sigh. "Maybe we will return to that. Only Gods know."

You adjusted Bishop's clothes as much as you could before getting up from his knees. Turning to the warrior you shrugged. "Lead the way," you said and followed them.

They walked in a silence through empty paths of settlement, eventually stopping in front of a little hut almost at the edge of it.

One of them pointed at the door and they turned with their backs to the building.

There was not much you could do but follow this game but honestly you were also really excited to see what is hidden behind the door. After taking a deep breath, you stepped inside.

The hut seemed empty and the only source of light inside were candles standing on the shelves around the chamber and hanging in the metal candle holders attached to the ceiling.

The sweet scent of mead filled the room, and you could spot a chalice full of alcohol placed at the table.

On the right side of the hut there stood a bed with many furs on top of it; it looked inviting. In the end the place was cozy and warm. Next to the chalice you found a piece of paper with one word written on it: UNDRESS.

You walked around the place. It was interesting, who set it up? There were two possible options. Harald who looked really interested in you or Ivar wanted to return the favor from York. That could be fun. Taking the chalice you sat down on the bed.

After drinking a few little sips of the really tasty mead you started to undress.

This actually felt good, as much as you loved your clothes the thick leather was annoying after too many hours in it. Naked, you laid down on the bed and waited.

Suddenly, the candles standing closest to the bed faded away. Then, the candles at the table, and the last to fade were the ones in candle holders.

You sat up and frowned. "Great," muttering, you lied back down, you weren't going to light those candles again.

And then, out of sudden, you could feel a soft touch on your ankle, followed by a hum. Your body's first idea was to react and protect yourself by kicking whoever tried to sneak on you but somehow you stopped yourself. The muscles only twitched a little. Giggling you shook your head. "Ivar, love. Don't do this, I do not want to hurt you."

"Prescient, aren't you?," His voice husky as he crawled fully out of the shadows. His hand placed against your leg and moved up , to rest on your knee as he brushed his full lips against your calf.

You let out a short laugh and hummed. "No other man would do such a thing for me. I am more than sure it was you. Besides, I recognized your hand, love."

Oh, if you could only see the grimace on his face. He continued to brush his lips against your soft, delicate skin until he reached your thighs. Only then he let go of your body and focused on getting on the bed, which was easy for him after all those years of crawling and supporting his upper body part on hands.

"But to send armed guards for me. That was... Interesting idea and the whole preparation for this? I feel like a real princess, you surprised me," you hummed and removed the mask that was still placed on your face. It won't be needed anyway.

He didn't reply, just slipped one of his hands between your thighs, forcing you gently to parted legs. His skilled fingers pressed to your pussy, where he rubbed little circles. "Was it wise to tease me with King Harald?"

"For this all? Of course it was," you said with a humor in your voice and opened your legs to give him as much access as he only needed. "I loved your face, this was my goal, sweetie."

"Was it?," He whispered as his fingers slipped lower to be gently shifted inside of your pussy. "Mmm, nice and wet."

"Yes it was. Everyone can fuck but build it up? It makes stuff more fun and pleasurable," you answered his question and let out a quiet sound. "Wet for my king."

He rolled to his side and to his belly in the end, diving right between your legs. He trailed the tip of his tongue up and down your clit, offering you a few long licks, then Ivar wrapped his mouth fully around your pussy, sucking on it lightly.

You gasped and let out a quiet moan. He was learning fast, he was making you proud.

He let you put your legs on his strong shoulders as he continued to eat your pussy out, humming in appreciation of the taste you left on his tongue. Soon, his mouth was accompanied by two of his slender fingers, slipping rhythmically in and out of your slick cunt.

"You like it? Don't you? You love it after our first night," you said playfully. Your hand moved into his hair to keep him close the whole other hand traveled up your breasts to tease your nipples.

Ivar growled which sent a little vibrations to your slick pussy. He placed a kiss to it and spat on it to make you even wetter than before. His fingers in you were joined by his long, skilled tongue as he tried his best to lick your inner walls and suck in your sweet juices.

His action made you shiver and moan for him even louder. Biting your lips hard, you nuzzled to the furs beneath your body, focusing on the pleasure he was giving you.

He fingered you until you cum hardly around his fingers. Ivar gave one last lick and sucked his fingers clean, murmuring. "Oh, sweet Y/N, you taste so fucking sweetly I could eat you all day and night long."

Ivar placed kisses to your tummy and licked his way up your body, catching one of your nipples between his teeth, as gently as possible.

The climax washed over you and you tried your best in calming down your breath.

You muttered at the feeling of his mouth and teeth around your sensitive flesh. "I would like to taste myself... Can I?”

Ivar continued with licking his way up your body and finally his lips crushed on yours, and he slipped his tongue past your lips so you could taste yourself.

You returned the kiss and moaned loudly at the sweet taste of your own juices. Dominating his kiss was no use, he was too much into it, both of your hands moved into his hair which to your own surprise were completely loose.

Suddenly, a cold, sharp blade was put to your neck. "I distinctly remember saying I don't like to be mocked," he whispered into your ear.

You gasped loudly and your lips parted. "Ivar... You could warn me that you want to add a knife to bed," swallowing heavily, you could feel the blade against your skin.

"If I would there would be no fun, sweetheart," Ivar kissed your cheek. "Did you enjoy yourself with him? Huh? Did you?," He asked and the blade was pressed more to your skin.

It hit you then. He probably saw you with the Bishop or someone told him. You laughed loudly. "Oh, so this got you going? It made you so angry you planned all of this? Just to pin me down with a knife to my neck?"

"Maybe," he whispered. "I just want to remind you that you're mine, I marked you as mine back in York, and nothing is going to change it."

Ivar hid the knife in his pocket and got off the bed.

You giggled and looked at him while biting your lips. Even if you already knew that Boneless was crazy enough to kill, it didn't frighten you at all. To be completely honest, this action brought a different reaction for you. "I know I am yours. I have never claimed the opposite. You are my lover, my future king," you voice was a soft pur that you knew he loved. Your inner thighs rubbed together in the seek of any friction.

He used his crutches to get to the table and sat on the chair. He refilled the chalice you drank from and downed it quickly.

His eyes glistened in the darkness in a dim moonlight falling onto the chamber through a little window. He was watching you. "Yet you still seemed to seek some adventures. Who is going to be next to be blessed with your body on top of them? Harald? Or maybe my sweet, crazy brother? Or maybe you'll fall for Bjørn?"

You hummed, pretending to think. Your teasing game continued. "King Harald would be a fine adventure, I can already imagine what he sounds like in bed; thanks to that voice of his. Ironside... I heard he is big as a bear, it could be a lot of fun to ride him. Hvitserk... Not really the type of a man I enjoy."

Ivar smirked to himself in the darkness. Oh, he was jealous already, that if you continue, he would simply bathe his dagger in your blood watching how the last ounces of life escape your flesh.

Suddenly, the door opened and a young thrall stepped in. Ivar didn't look at her yet gestured for her to come closer.

You sat up on the bed and watched them with your eyebrow raised.

As the girl brought another jug filled with taste mead, she put it carefully on the table and circled the chair Ivar sat on to gently place her palms on his shoulders. She started massaging him, earning a long moan from him.

"What's your name, sweetie?," Ivar asked, his tone low.

"Katia, my lord," she replied.

"How many springs have you lived?"

"17, my lord."

"The younger the better," Ivar turned his head to the young thrall and pulled her into a short kiss.

You watched them, completely taken aback by his action. Honestly, you felt proud of him in some way. Just a few weeks ago back at York he was all shy and unsure of himself, only to do this. Of course Ivar knew what he was doing because it worked. It worked too well.

The jealousy burned deep inside of you, he gave you a taste of your own action.

Ivar grabbed the woman by hand and pulled her into his lap.

Young thrall pulled her shirts up and straddled his lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck. "I never knew I'll be so close to Ivar the Boneless himself, my master."

"Because you won't be for much longer," you growled as you got up from the bed to move closer to them. Your hand moved into her hair and grabbed a handful, pulling her head away. "Listen to me now, child. If you won't get off him right now and leave, I will make sure to cut you in all of the right places to make sure now man will ever touch you."

That's what Ivar hoped for. "You heard the lady," he looked at the thrall but let himself cup one of her boobs briefly. "Leave now, but stay tuned for maybe you'll be needed to warm my alcove one day."

Young girl hissed but obeyed your words. She got off him and smoothened her dress, quickly leaving.

You chuckled watching her run off.

Humming softly you placed yourself on his lap, and immediately moved into his long, dark hair. "Look at that. Ivar the Boneless, a man who a few weeks ago was afraid to lie with a woman for the very first time. Now is making her envy. Don't you know such a woman can be unpredictable, boy?"

"Is that so sweet Y/N?," Your name rolled from his lips as he moved his head closer to your naked body, inhaling your scent as he brushed his lips against your collarbone, his hands in gloves stroked the curves of your waist.

You giggled and continued to play with his hair, scratching his scalp with your long nails. "Oh yes, just as unpredictable as men can be. I think we saw both today."

Your hands moved to his throat and your small palms wrapped around it, squeezing it a little. "I could strangle you now," you whispered as your grip got a bit stronger. "And I should do this, for a knife you pressed to my throat and that thrall but you are lucky enough that I love you."

He kept face straight, chucking darkly at your sudden outburst. "Oh, I think I need to play with thralls some more as it's keeping you going," he whispered and parted his lips, tracing the tip of his tongue along his perfectly shaped teeth.

"I need to visit our prisoner often too," you nodded with a smile. "I still wish to have him in my bed at least for once... As long as he is loyal to my man and his orders."

Ivar's hand moved to grab your hips strongly. "You're such a tease," he mumbled deeply.

You laughed and rolled your hips against him as your hands slipped to his shoulders. "But it gets you going. You love the idea of misbehaving. It makes you jealous and it leads you to anger," you leaned over to whisper against his lips. "And this, my love, leads you to your desire."

He couldn't pretend any longer; you kept him going. A short moan left his parted lips, and his eyes widened a little.

"Ah! There you go. You couldn't keep it up for too long, huh, Ivar?"

With a soft giggle you slipped off of his laps and placed yourself on the floor right between his legs. It was time to return the favor.

He looked down at you while letting a sad gasp out. His palm was placed to your cheek. "You're like no other woman I met in my short life. You make me lose my head, all for you."

You smiled at him sweetly, nuzzling to his palm. "Maybe because you didn't meet the right ones." Your hands moved down his chest and started to work on his pants so you could move them enough to free his member. "You are like no other men I met in my life. You are brave, ruthless and strong despite your flaws. Wonderful leader, lover and warrior."

He smiled. "Come to me, little one," he demanded in a husky voice.

You didn't like this exact order. All you wanted was to make him feel good but still you followed his order, placing yourself back on his laps. "Your wish is my command, my king."

He reached his hand down his body to guide his cock into your cunt. As he did, he let a loud moan and rolled head back, his hands slipped into your hips to hold you strongly.

A soft moan passed your own lips. Even when he worked you hard back in York, you still felt so fucking tight around him. "Fuck... Ivar," you gasped, grabbing the chair back.

He rested his forehead against your chest, letting out some deep gasps when you were slowly going up and down his shaft.

Your hands moved into his hair, scratching his scalp and keeping him as close to you as possible. Soon you started to move faster, moaning and pulling on his hair.

Ivar let out a long, deep grunt as you tugged on his hair. His hands moved down to rest on your ass as he squeezed the flesh hardly, moaning and brushing his lips against your chest.

When you realized he enjoys the hair pulling you let out a soft laugh and used it to pull his head back so you could kiss him deeply.

Ivar stole a kiss from your lips and parted his, gasping harder and harder as he chased his climax. Soon, he milked your pussy, grunting and groaning as he did.

You moaned his name out at the delightful feeling of his seed flooding your cunt. This triggered your own high and your walls tightened around him.

Ivar's arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his forehead rested against your collarbone, he gasped, a few drops of sweat rolled down his neck and forehead.

You smiled and wrapped your arms around him, just to keep him as close as only possible. Humming quietly, you started to play with his hair. "I love your hair, you should be called finehair," you whispered and giggled at your own joke.

He didn't reply as he was buried deep in his thoughts and he was only about to get off his peak. "Yeah," he managed to mumble softly, nuzzling to you.

You chuckled and massaged his scalp, letting him relax and calm down right in your arms after such a strong climax. "You okay there, Ivar?"

He raised his chin and looked you up right in the eyes. "Yes. Go to bed, I'll join you soon but I have one more thing to deal with."

You frowned softly, cupping his cheek. "Like what?"

"I need to speak to my brother. Nothing much. You stay here and warm bed for me."

You kissed his cheek and nodded. Slowly, you remove yourself from him, growling at the feeling of emptiness. "As you wish, love."

The bed was soft and warm thanks to all the furs. You got comfortable and nuzzled to the pillow. "Don't leave me alone for too long or I will have to go and pay our prisoner another visit."

Ivar shifted his floppy cock back into his pants, and growled playfully at your words. "Don't you be worried about that, I won't be long."

He took his crutches and slowly got up from the chair, throwing you a cocky smirk before leaving. Ivar headed to another hut, located almost at the docs. We stepped in without knocking, just like he had it in the habit of his.

Girl that was currently kissing Hvitser jumped in her place and gasped before looking right at Ivar.

It was one of your shield maidens, the one that took most interest in older Ragnarsson back at York.

Hvitserk sighed deeply, seeing his brother. "Brother, as much as I love your company. This is not the best moment," he said and the girl nuzzled to him, hiding from Ivar's eyes.

Ivar offered the girl a brief nod. "Mmm, you're fast like a lightning, brother," Ivar claimed and shifted a chair for himself, placing it right next to the bed. His blue eyes shifted to the girl. "Be a good, little thrall and leave us for a moment."

"I... I am not a thrall. I am Earl Wolf's shield maiden," girl said.

"Go, Asta. Wait outside, we won't talk for long," Hvitser said, patting her shoulder.

Soon the girl was gone and Hvitserk looked at his brother annoyed. "So! What was so important that you decided to interrupt me right now?"

"Hold your horses, brother, you'll have her pussy soon," Ivar frowned as he moved his glance to make sure the girl closed the door. "Remember our last talk? The talk about relationships and things?"

"Yes, I do but I am still not sure if we really did have this time. You are asking for advice when it comes to relationships and bed... Could be just my drunk dream," Hvitserk muttered, crossing arms over his chest. "What about it, Ivar?"

Younger brother used his crutch to poke his brother's thigh. "Can you not be a dick for once in your lifetime?," Ivar asked, frowning hardly, he ran his other hand through his messy hair. "It worked. And I need to know more of those."

"Ivar. I am glad that it worked but I really don't know what else to tell you," Hvitserk said with a shrug. "Tell me about her."

"Like, listen to this, brother," Ivar was excited at the single thought about things he performed with you. "The things you advised me in your drunken state worked, what I mean is that after eating her out she was more eager for other things. Let's not pretend, you're not only older but many women came and went through your bed, so I hate to admit it, but you're more experienced than I am."

Hvitserk laughed and nodded, rubbing his chin with pride. "Well, of course I am. Just... I can tell she likes it rough. So just go with that, Ivar. Listen to her."

Ivar tilted his head like a puppy while listening to the owner. "How can you say such a thing when you haven't seen her?"

"Then why do you ask me what to do when I haven't seen her in action?," Hvitserk asked with a roll of his eyes. "Listen. Every woman is different, you just need to observe and follow your intent or heart if you are really in love... And have heart."

Ivar didn't comment on his brother's words, he only nodded and got up from his spot. He patted Hvitserk's cheek. "Thanks. You can be useful from time to time."

Asta watched Ivar left the hut and immediately went back inside to join Hvitserk.

Ivar took some time to enjoy himself in the cold air. He walked slowly back to the hut Harald had let him stay in. Door was open so he walked in.

You were already asleep, covered with furs.

Ivar took the sight in, smiling to himself, feeling like his heart was melting for the sweetness overload. He put the crutches on the floor quietly, he got undressed and crawled to the bed. As carefully as it was possible he got on and spooned you from behind.

The following week was filled with preparations for a great battle. Everything had to be just right.

The days were filled with planning and training with your people, making sure they all are ready for the upcoming battle.

Of course whenever you found time you liked to bother the Bishop who actually was free now and somehow agreed to fight on your sides of the conflict.

You screamed out Ivar's name as you both reached your climaxes. The remarkable feeling of his seed filling you because some kind of fixation for yours. You seeked it every night and he was happy and eager to satisfy your common needs.

Humming quietly you lay down on his chest and started to trace random patterns on his chest. "It's tomorrow. I can't wait to leave this place and set a camp... And get ready for the battle," You growled playfully.

Ivar's arm was wrapped loosely around your waist, his fingertips rubbing little circles on your belly as he held you close. "Don't be scared, Y/N, the seer predicted we'll win the battle easily," Ivar assured you and kissed the top of your head. "There's no need to be worried, dear. It's just a formality."

You laughed and looked at him with a cocky smile. "Me? Scared? You're joking! I am more than ready to fight, our last battle in York was so much fun! I craved more since that day."

He looked down at you and pecked your lips briefly. "I would never say you're more bloodthirsty than I am."

You giggled against his lips before kissing that one sensitive spot on his neck. "Is that bad? Is some... Boring, dress wearing, royal lady would be better for you? You dont like me the way I am?”

He moaned at the touch of your lips on the most sensitive spot on his neck; his grasp on your waist tightened. "You're perfect just the way you are."

"Let's get some sleep, love. We need to be rested for tomorrow." You kissed his cheek and then nuzzled to his chest, closing your eyes. Soon, you drifted into slumber.

Travel was exciting.

Everyone was ready for that great fight so were you.

To be honest you couldn't wait, fighting and then ruling by Ivar's was your dream ever since you two clicked just perfectly back in York.

In the camp as well as during negotiation with Lagherta and his brothers you stood there proudly, being by his side and supporting his action.

You fought for him just like you did in York, doing your best to tip the scales of victory on your side.

The battle was long and of course there was a lot of death and suffering.

Just like Ivar assured you that one night, you won. Kattegat was yours and you couldn't be more happy.

The Great Hall opened its door for the new king.

Ivar entered the familiar chambers for the first time since months. He felt like the very important part of his childhood was restored to normality.

People weren't truly keen on the change on the throne, but they could do nothing about it.

Ivar's royal warriors took care of those who didn't want to hail the king. Ivar took a place at the throne that once belonged to his father.

You laughed loudly walking in with Hvitserk and King Harald close behind you, all of you bathed in blood of your enemies.

"You did it Ivar, you won your home back. I need to say I am jealous now!” Harald joked.

You walked around, inspecting the inside of the Great Hall. You already loved the place.

"Of course he did. How could you doubt him."

Saying this you walked closer to your lover and sat on the throne right beside him.

Ivar offered you a smirk, yet tilted his head. "Y/N, what do you think you're doing?"

"Well, I am getting comfortable in my throne, love?," You answered, returning the smirk. "Just as we talked in York. We will be the most powerful couple in the world."

He rolled a little in his place, so he leaned his forearms against armrest. "We? A couple? We were never a couple, sweetheart. I just needed your troops."

You frowned deeply, looking into those beautiful blue eyes you so loved. "Excuse me... But. Your promises, the nights we spend together. Our plans for the future."

He laughed loudly, he didn't really pay attention to the fact there were people in the chamber. "Darling, I would never say you're so silly. You wanted to be fucked so I provided that to you. I just had to make sure you won't change your mind in the day before the battle. Now, get off the throne, it's not yours. You can go back to your sweet, lovely settlement. You're my vassal from now on, I expect you to pay 500 gold pieces every year. If you won't follow, I'll have to flatten your little place to the ground."

You got up from the throne, your eyes never leaving him. How could he do this to you? You shared so much from the past to the future. Did he really lie to you... Why it hurt more than the wounds you suffered during the battle. "Is this some kind of a cruel joke? Because if it is, then better stop, Ivar."

"Do I look like I am joking?," He asked, the smile vanishing from his face, leaving a cold grimace and raised eyebrow as he glanced at you. "Get out of my face."

You couldn't believe it. All the nights you shared, sweet words, the love and dreams... It all was his way of taming you. His way of making sure you will follow him until he achieves his goals. Your heart broke like a thin ice under a pressure. "You are a terrible man, Ivar the Boneless. Ragnar is ashamed of such a son. One that can't keep a promise and can't even avenge his mother fully. I will dance the day you die!” You didn't mean any of those words, it was the pain speaking through your lips. Just like he wanted, you turned around and left the Great Hall.

Hvitserk threw his brother had a cold glance and followed you. "Stop, Y/N! Earl, stop!"

Meantime Harald stormed to the freshly announced king. "What the hell are you doing, Ivar? She is a great warrior, she brought a lot of people, you can't simply send her away and push her off our common matter."

"Our? Mine. Nothing is ours, everything is mine now," Ivar chuckled darkly. "Go on, you can take her. She's nothing but a puppet."

You stopped and pulled out your sword, pointing it right at older Ragnarsson. Your face looked serious but the tears rising in your eyes were visible. "What do you want, Ragnarsson? Came to tell me how stupid I am for trusting your brother?” You growled loudly.

"I had no idea what he was planning for all that time," Hvitserk instinctively raised hand up in the air, showing you he was unarmed. "Don't leave, I bet it can't be discussed and explained."

"Discussed? Explained?! What can be, Hvitserk?! He used my love, my feelings for him to get the troops for his plans," You said, desperately trying to hold your tears. "I wanted to stay here for him but I won't be a rug he can use and throw away as soon as he is done."

"Stop it, you can't leave! You're the only person who still keeps him on the straight and narrow!"

"HOW I DO THAT?!," You yelled as loud as your lungs let you, slowly lowering your sword as your body became too weak suddenly. All the emotions you felt and the post battle injury mixed together now.

"He threw me away as soon as my help became useless for him. I was never needed, coming to York was the biggest mistake of my life."

"Come," not being sure whether it was proper to do, Hvitserk wrapped arms around your figure, offering you his shoulder to lean on. "Take me with you then," Hvitserk asked openly. "I don't want to stay by his side, he's not a sane person. Please. I'll do whatever you order."

You nuzzled to his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him. All you needed now was some kind of closeness, of course you wished it was Ivar but he didn't care any longer. You started to cry into his shoulder, pawing at his back in an attempt to grab something in your hand.

"Now, move," he reminded you. "Let's not wait for him to change his mind and order his hellhounds to burn us alive."

Oldest Ragnarsson led you to the stable where your horse ate hay. He helped you hop on the animal. You sighed deeply, getting comfortable in the saddle. Rubbing your eyes you looked at him. "Thankfully my men are ready to go too," You said, grabbing the reins. "Let's leave him with his wonderful kingdom. Harald can deal with him."

"I don't think he is going to stay either," Hvitserk pulled his horse out of the box and got on his stallion's back.

"I have no idea who would want to stay with him now. Kattegat will burn under his lead," You muttered as your horse moved.

You quickly collected your remaining troops and then you all were on the way home. "Hvitserk?"

Hvitserk, whose horse galloped right behind yours, lined up with you. "Yes?"

"Don't you regret it? Leaving your own youngest and well... Creppled brother? For a woman who broke your nose?," You asked, looking at him.

"No," he replied hardly, being sure of his words. "I was afraid of my dear life. It was the most reasonable decision I've made in my lifetime."

"Let's hope you will feel much better in my home," you told him with a soft smile.

The trip took three day but it was worth it.

Your settlement made you feel better just because you were back home but there was still this void, somewhere inside of you. It felt even worse when you how your warriors greeted their families. Their smiles made you wish you could feel something like this.

Of course, people were happy to see their Earl and you returned to happiness but it wasn't the same.

You led Hvitserk into the Great Hall and as soon as you entered a big wolf's fur was placed on your shoulders, the hood that was made out of the wolf's head was pulled on your head. You laughed and looked at Hvitserk.

Hvitserk didn't think he could be greeted so warmly anywhere. Your people offered him not only furs and good words but also a roof over his head.

You sat on your throne and smiled, looking at your people. Tears will have to wait until you close the door to your room, now it was time to be Earl. "My friends, my warriors, my people. I can't describe how happy I am that God blessed me and our warriors with the chance of returning home," You said loudly and got up. "We lost many but many returned. Tomorrow there will be a feast to welcome the one that returned and honor the one that did not. I also want to introduce my special guest."

Hvitserk, as much as he was against the idea, walked closer to you, offering you a nod.

"This is Hvitserk. Son of Ragnar. Welcome him and be treated as your own because as long as he wants to stay with us. He is a part of our pack," You informed and your people cheered.

Hvitserk cleared his throat. "Thank you, dear Earl. Thank you, dear people. I assure you that I'll protect this settlement until the very last blood drop."

You gave him a sad smile. "You will stay here. There is one more room in Great Hall that wasn't used for years. I will order my thralls to prepare it."

Hvitserk bowed his head. "This is too much, my lady. I'll be fine just by staying among your people. I will stay at the edge of the city."

"I don't ask you as a Earl. I ask you as a friend, I want you to stay here. You will have days to get along with my people," You explained.

Hvitserk didn't complain anymore. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me."

Evening finally came and this one felt weird.

Most nights you shared with Ivar and you missed him and his body.

Letting out a deep sigh you get out of the bath and continue with getting ready for the bed. You put on a soft nightdress and brushed your hair. It felt different.

Since you joined Ivar back at York you didn't really have a chance to clean yourself properly. Suddenly you decided to visit Hvitserk so you got up from your bed and went to his room.

You knocked on the door, waiting for a permission to enter. Maybe he already had some girl over.

"Come in."

Hvitserk was sitting on the floor, his legs crossed and elbows propped on knees as he was meditating. He offered you a nod. "Earl Y/N. What have I done that you honor me with a visit? Do you need my help?"

You sat on the floor next to him and chuckled. "Don't start with all that Earl thing, Hvitserk. I am the same Y/N that broke your nose. No need to use my title."

"Don't need to remind me about the nose all the time," he offered you a little too cocky smirk.

"Just trying to remind you that I am no one special. Sorry" You sighed. "And well... I am here because. I felt lonely."

"Being lonely doesn't mean being sad, yet I hear sadness in your tone and see it in your manner."

You raised your eyebrow. "How being lonely doesn't mean being sad?," Shaking your head you shrugged.

"I just used to spend the night with your brother. It felt good, I felt happy... Loved," You already could feel tears in your eyes.

"Don't cry. You can't change him. He's a spoiled brat who doesn't care about people's feelings. You'll find yourself a man anytime soon, just look at you. Young, beautiful, in charge. All men are losing head for you already."

You sighed and wiped your eyes with a short laugh.

"You are losing head for me as well? Who would want a woman with a face like mine. I should cry for how stupid I was to trust Ivar's love."

"It was not stupidity, what you experienced is used to be called love," he smiled softly.

"Was... Was it too much to ask for? To be loved for once in my life?," You asked, looking at him. "Father, left me to die. Mother didn't care enough to protect you. Brother tried to kill me... Man I loved..." You couldn't finish your sentence.

"You're young, you have your entire life lying ahead. You'll fall in love not once, not twice. The pain is temporary, it will pass as soon as you'll sign a truce with yourself."

"I am young with a face eaten by a wolf," you muttered. "I... I have a stupid question."

"No question is stupid if you think about it."

"Can I stay here tonight? With you?,” you asked. "I don't think I can sleep alone... Not today at least."

"Of course. You provided me with a room with a bed for two. But you can take it full."

"I don't want to take it all. I want to share it with you... I don't want to be alone tonight, Hvitserk."

"Your wish is my command," he replied with a little smile.

You smiled and then climbed to bed. Letting out a sigh you nuzzled to the pillow and wrapped fur around yourself.

Hvitserk spent a few more moments meditating. After that he went to wash his face and neck with cold water. The he slipped into bed with you

"Thank you for that. I need to look pathetic... I am the Earl and I act like a child," you said cringing at your own action.

"Don't judge yourself. I don't mind it. I offered you that I can be a shoulder you can lean in."

"Yes, you did," you nodded and moved closer to nuzzle him. "And I am going to use it tonight."

He straightened his arm to make a room for you. As you put your head to his chest, he lightly wrapped arm around your waist.

You got comfortable and hummed quietly, closing your eyes. He was arm and soft, you just wished it was Ivar who would really hug you.

Hvitserk used his other hand to stroke your cheek. "Shhhh, you're going to get through this for you're the strongest woman I saw."

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joshjacksons · 3 years

Text

Joshua Jackson interview with "Mr Porter" (2021)

Minutes before Mr Joshua Jackson joins me in a booth for a Friday afternoon drink at a vibey hotel bar in Santa Monica, he’s confronted by his past. Or rather, a woman in her early twenties who is binge-watching Dawson’s Creek, the teen show about a close-knit group of high-school friends coming of age in a sleepy American town, which made Jackson incredibly famous between 1998 and 2003. The series, which also made household names of Ms Michelle Williams and Ms Katie Holmes, went off air 18 years ago, but is now streaming on Netflix, to the bemusement of Jackson, who played lovable rogue Pacey Witter. “This girl was like, ‘Are you...?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. He got old. I’m sorry to break it to you,’” he says, before ordering an iced tea and a charcuterie board to tide him over until dinner time. “It always surprises me when young people say they’ve just got into Dawson’s Creek. I’m like, ‘Is it a costume drama to you? Do you feel like you’re watching a historical documentary?’”

The idea of a Friends-style reunion episode or a Sex And The City revival feels equally far-fetched to Canadian-born Jackson, now 43 and wearing it well in a pale green linen shirt and tailored linen trousers by Oliver Spencer that complement his fading brown hair and Cali-tanned skin.

“I don’t know why you’d want to [bring it back],” he says. “Nobody needs to know what those characters are doing in middle age. We left them in a nice place. Nobody needs to see that Pacey’s back hurts. I don’t think we need that update.”

And Jackson doesn’t need Dawson’s Creek. From Mr JJ Abrams’ sci-fi series Fringe (2008-2013) to the Golden Globe award-winning The Affair (2014-2019), from Ms Ava DuVernay’s ground-breaking true-crime drama When They See Us (2019) to the recent Ms Reese Witherspoon and Ms Kerry Washington-produced Little Fires Everywhere (2020), he has commanded the small screen – with a collection of dynamic and diverse work – ever since.

His latest role as Mr Christopher Duntsch, the Texas surgeon convicted of gross malpractice when 33 of his patients were left seriously injured after he operated on them and two of them died, in chilling Peacock crime drama Dr Death, is only stepping his career up another gear.

“I’ve never played anyone irredeemable before,” says Jackson, who is joined in the eight-part series (based on the 2018 Wondery podcast of the same name) by Messrs Christian Slater and Alec Baldwin. “He is charming, gregarious and has a high-level intellect, but he’s also a misogynist, probably a sociopath, certainly a narcissist and a complete incompetent who is incapable of seeing himself.”

If Duntsch is terrifying, then Jackson’s portrayal is even more so. The artist formerly known as Pacey is virtually unrecognisable (thanks to prosthetics) in the opening scene, but the real challenge for Jackson was allowing himself to view someone who is so “spectacularly evil” as a human being in order to walk in his shoes. “It’s a more damning portrayal of the man to make him into a human being, rather than just make him the bad guy,” he says. “He really believes he’s the hero, he’s the genius and that he’s the victim, so once I got past my own judgment, all the other things fell into place.”

Jackson might have his pick of stellar roles – and challenges – now, but it has not happened by accident. Take it from someone who has been in the business since landing his first job aged 14 in Disney’s live-action movie series The Mighty Ducks, opposite Brat Pack alumnus Mr Emilio Estevez.

“You try to make it look like it happens accidentally,” he says, “but there is no way to do this and not be ambitious. I’d say I’m extremely ambitious because I’ve been doing this cutthroat job for nearly 30 years. I’m in the pay-off phase of my career now. One of the benefits of surviving for as long as I have is you get to learn from your own mistakes.”

Such as? “I wouldn’t say, ‘I wish I hadn’t done that,’ because it all becomes bricks in a path, but [after Dawson’s Creek] I was not choosy enough about the things I was doing. You get stuck. You start trying to perform the performance you think people are hoping to see you do. I was so used to working all the time that I just worked all the time. There was definitely a conscious moment in my mid-twenties when I realised I wasn’t really enjoying the work that I was doing. My manager at the time just said, ‘Take a breath. You’re burnt out.’”

The turning point came in 2005, when Jackson was offered a role in the two-hander Mr David Mamet play A Life In The Theatre, opposite Sir Patrick Stewart. “God bless him, Patrick could have made my life miserable because I had no idea what I was doing, ” he says. “I hadn’t been on stage since I was a kid and now I was in the West End in over my head. But it reminded me that I actually enjoyed being an actor, that it’s not about the red carpet or travelling around the world. What I really enjoy is working on good material with good people.”

It’s no surprise Jackson’s time on Dawson’s Creek led to a career crisis. From the ages of 19 to 24, he lived with his fellow cast mates in Wilmington, North Carolina, filming day in, day out, in an arrangement he likens to college. “You get to the end and they’re like, ‘Here’s your degree. Go live now. You’re an adult. Go out into the world,’” he says.

But most graduates don’t have to deal with global fame. “It’s transitory. You’re only ever cool for a moment and then you become much less cool. I was always pretty dubious about flatterers,” he says, recalling a time he was stung in London in the mid-2000s. “I went on a date in Hyde Park with a woman whose name I will not use – she was socialite-famous – and she was acting completely bizarre, looking over her shoulder the whole time. I came to find out that she had hired a photographer to follow us through the park and gave a whole story to the tabloids about how I was going to meet her family.”

It was his growing fortune, rather than fame, that caused Jackson the most anxiety. “Suddenly, at 19 years old, I was making more in a week than most of my friends’ parents would make in a year,” he says. “It was lovely to have the money, but it was that feeling of nobody is worth that kind of money. You feel like a fraud and it took me a long time to forgive myself for not being the thing that I was perceived as.”

Born in Vancouver, but raised in Topanga, California, until he was eight (before moving back to Vancouver following his parents’ divorce), Jackson bought his childhood home in 2001 and lives in it today with his wife, British Queen & Slim actor Ms Jodie Turner-Smith, and their 15-month-old daughter.

“My father unfortunately was not a good father or a husband and exited the scene, but that house in Topanga was where everything felt simple, so it was a very healing thing for me to do,” he says. Fast-forward to 2021 and his baby daughter now sleeps in her father’s childhood bedroom. “There was a mural of a dragon on the wall in that room that I couldn’t believe was still there, years later. The owner [who sold him the house] said, ‘I knew it meant a lot to somebody and that they were going to come back for it some day.’”

Becoming a first-time parent during a pandemic sounds stressful, but it afforded Jackson months at home with his wife and child that his normal work schedule wouldn’t have allowed.

“I now recognise how perverse the way that we have set up our society is,” he says. “There is not a father I know who works a regular job who didn’t go back to the office a week later. It’s robbing that man of the opportunity to bond with his child and spend time with his partner.”

Despite his obvious career ambitions, fatherhood has changed Jackson’s priorities in “every possible way”, he says. “It’s 100 per cent changed how I approach my work and my life. That has been made so clear to me in this past year. For me to feel good about what I’m doing day to day, my family has to be the central focus.

“There are plenty of things left for me to do, but now the thing that gets me excited is experiencing the world through my daughter’s eyes. I can’t wait to take her scuba diving. I can’t wait to take her skiing. I can’t wait to read a great book with her. I’m not worried at all she’ll be a wallflower. She’s been a character from the word go.”

Jackson met Turner-Smith, 34, two days after his 40th birthday. He had been single since his 10-year relationship with German actress Ms Diane Kruger ended in 2016. “I was not looking to fall in love again or meet the mother of my child, but life has other plans for you,” he says.

The couple met at a party. Turner-Smith was wearing the same The Future Is Female Ejaculation T-shirt Ms Tessa Thompson’s character, Detroit, wears in the 2018 film Sorry To Bother You. “That’s what I used to break the ice. I shouted, ‘Detroit!’ across the room. Not the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked. We were pretty much inseparable from the word go. It was a whirlwind romance and I can tell my daughter I literally saw her mother across a room and thought, ‘I have to be next to this woman.’”

A self-confessed “useless” shopper, Jackson gives his wife full credit for his current wardrobe. He is jewellery-free, apart from a wedding band and a gold signet “JJ” ring on his little finger (a present from his wife), and discovered tailored sweatsuits (by Stampd and Reigning Champ) in the pandemic.

“Jodie has influence in the way that a wonderful wife encourages you, through love, to dress well. She was like, ‘We’re going to throw away all the sweatpants from your past and I’m going to get you some that actually make you look like an adult male and you will still feel comfortable around the house,’ and I’m like, ‘What an amazing idea!’ Who knew you could get sweatsuits that actually look good on your body?”

Jackson’s style has evolved, he says, “from slovenly teen to it’s-nice-when-your-clothes-actually-fit-you”. The penny dropped after he auditioned for his former co-star Estevez, who was directing the 2006 Mr Robert Kennedy biopic Bobby. He said to me, ‘You only got this job because I know you. You came in here to play a very well-put together 1960s political operative and you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie.’

“I had to grow up a little bit. We are very much raised in Canada to never, ever show off, so it took me a while to recognise it’s OK to look good when you go out.”

Still, when you’ve grown up in front of the camera, “every pimple literally documented”, and lived (very successfully) to tell the tale, you can probably be forgiven for the odd fashion faux pas.

“I wore a silk Ascot to an event once in Paris and I still have nightmares about it,” he says. “I looked like Fred from Scooby Doo, but you live and learn.”

#joshua jackson #interviews #jodie turner smith #dawson's creek #dr death #fringe #emilio estevez #mr porter #patrick stewart #michelle williams #katie holmes

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triviareads · 3 years

Text

Green-Eyed at Almack’s

For Kate and Anthony 2021 Week, Day 1 Prompt: Jealousy and all its cousins

Even a year after her wedding, the new Lady Bridgerton found that her gaze fell almost instinctively on her husband, no matter the time or place.

It was not her fault, Kate reasoned to herself after the umpteenth time she had been caught staring by her husband, his mother, her mother, her sister, or assorted Bridgerton relatives, and then teased mercilessly about it. Surely it was natural for a (not so) newlywed to look, especially when one was married to a man as handsome, kind, loving and warm as Anthony Bridgerton?

Kate sighed dreamily, her gaze drifting once more to her husband even as she danced a set with her brother-in-law, the Duke of Hastings. Despite the crowded rooms at Almack’s, Kate quickly found him, his tall, dark-haired figure easily distinguishable among the rest of his friends and-

Kate frowned.

A woman was speaking with Anthony now- a young, beautiful woman, Kate quickly registered, taking note of her fine features, auburn hair, and full figure that so exactly fit the fashions of the day. She looked closer to Edwina’s age than her own. Kate had no idea who she was, but saw how their heads were bent close to one another in a rather intimate manner- far more intimate than Kate was comfortable with.

She felt the stirrings of something green and familiar within her.

"Who is she?" Kate muttered to the duke, gesturing towards the woman, now conversing gaily with Anthony who, in turn, was speaking with equal pleasure.

Instead of offering any clarity, His Grace merely raised a brow towards his sister-in-law. "Have you been watching your husband again, Lady Bridgerton?"

"Merely a glance!" Kate protested, and then added pointedly. "Long enough to wonder who that woman is."

Simon was able to get a look while they executed their turns.

"I do not know her either," he told Kate.

They both watched as the woman said something that made Anthony tip his head back and roar with laughter.

Her husband suffered few fools, and even fewer debutantes. Indeed he was practically a master in outrunning them and their match-making mamas. What was special about this girl?"

"She is rather pretty," Simon commented as if he had read her mind. He smirked at her for good measure.

"Come now, Your Grace," Kate said, trying to sound worldly and bored even as her insides were practically churning. "If you mean to rile me, it will not work."

"Won't it?" the duke asked mildly. "It usually works wonders with Anthony."

"Really?" Kate asked despite herself.

"Oh yes. I point out that you are standing three paces from any gentleman, and he flies into a jealous frenzy and immediately comes to sweep you away."

"That's why he looked like a boiling kettle when I was conversing with Lord Melville the other night."

"A far more favorable comparison than mine, which was an overripe tomato- Kate?"

But Kate was no longer listening. She was gawking rather unfashionably as Anthony put his hand on the lady's lower back- her husband! Touching that woman-!

It took everything within her to not escape mid-set and shove past several other dancers to inquire exactly what this woman was doing with her husband.

Thankfully, the set quickly drew to a close, and Kate didn't even bother to thank the duke for the dance before marching towards her errant husband.

"Anthony!” she said loudly once she was close enough. Perhaps it was not very good ton to exclaim her husband’s Christian name in as public a setting as Almack’s, but she had to get his attention somehow.

Anthony turned towards her, bemused. The lady, who he was still touching, did the same.

Kate merely looked pointedly at her, and then disgruntledly at him.

Anthony’s gaze flicked between her and the woman before understanding dawned on him. Kate allowed herself to smugly await an apology, and then hopefully some groveling for good measure.

To her immense irritation, none of those things happened. Instead, Anthony grinned at her, unrepentant.

“Kate,” he said to her, wholly unaffected by her seething, “may I introduce you to Miss Eliza Rokesby, my cousin?”

Oh.

His cousin.

Kate exhaled sharply.

"From Scotland," she dimly heard herself state. “The doctor’s daughter.” Kate had been told that Anthony’s aunt’s family lived in Edinburgh, and that they could not come down for the wedding such short notice. An Elizabeth Rokesby had penned her a pretty note that had been sent along with beautiful silver candlesticks.

Miss Rokesby dimpled and curtsied. “Yes,” she said. “It is so very nice to meet you at last, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Eliza here has come to London for her first season,” Anthony explained, so obviously enjoying the dumbfound expression Kate was struggling to wipe from her features.

“It’s been great fun, for the most part,” Eliza added, blithely oblivious. Her pretty features then fell into a frown. “Although the season is proving a bit trickier than I thought it would be.”

Kate finally found the ability to speak. “Why so?”

“Some gentlemen have been rather… persistent,” Eliza attempted delicately.

Anthony offered a more blunt explanation: “Mr. Westcott is practically hounding her- the man won’t leave her alone.” Kate winced.

Eliza nodded fervently. “I was desperate, but luckily, I came across cousin Anthony, and he offered to- erm- play along.”

“And so you pretended to be interested in her,” Kate finished with a small groan.

“You see, my dear,” Anthony said, smirking, "I was merely doing my level best to protect a family member from a rogue."

To this, Kate could not help but reply waspishly, "Then you should have enlisted me in your cause far earlier." She threw her husband a dirty look. "I'm sure you can attest to my great success in that particular area."

#kateandanthonyweek #kateandanthonyweek21 #Bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #kathony #nicholas rokesby #georgiana bridgerton #billie bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 4 years

Text

Sherlock x Reader: Sentiment

Author’s Note(s): I struggle publishing Sherlock fics because as a Christian I personally disagree with his statements about God on the show and find it insulting actually. However, I otherwise enjoy the show and enjoy writing fics with his character. Enjoy! I hope you likez!

“Sentiment? Me?” Sherlock scoffed. “A very amusing notion indeed, but I’m afraid the idea is rather ridiculous, and I have places to be.” He turned on his heels and began to walk out of the library.

There was a sigh of annoyance. “Yes, Sherlock, I am talking about sentiment.” That statement caused the consulting detective to halt his smug strut altogether. He lingered at the doorway, hands in his coat pockets, staring straight ahead. Mycroft lifted a brow at his brother’s reaction, unfolding his hands and rising from his desk. “I know what she means to you.”

Sherlock turned his head to shoot a sideways glance over his shoulder. “Who?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Who do you think?” His voice held the slightest edge to it, showing his impatience. “I have already seen the signs. You may have convinced the rest of the world, but you can’t fool me, brother mine.”

“You’re mistaken,” Sherlock replied, though his voice sounded less sure, less convincing.

“I don’t believe I am, but that’s beside the point. The point is you need to stay aware. Having your friend, John Watson, in the way is dangerous as it is...but to fall in love with __________ leaves you vulnerable in an entirely different way.”

You turned your face away from the computer screen to shoot Mycroft a look of disbelief from across the desk. “Wait, wait. What is this?” He paused the video as you continued. “You said you’d explain why a few of your goons were following me at the market.”

“They aren’t goons,” Mycroft chided with the raise of his brow. “They are agents. And I’m getting to that part. So please…” He gave a crisp smile. “Keep watching.”

You shut your eyes and exhaled deeply. “But I’m not sure I should even see this.”

It was footage of an apparent conversation between the two brothers that you presumed had happened fairly recently. The idea of getting a glimpse into Sherlock’s true feelings was uncomfortable, yet intriguing, and also downright terrifying. Even though part of you hoped for him to feel something for you, the other side of you accepted that it may not be the case. He was always quite serious about his work, and you were glad to be one of his few friends anyway.

“I assure you,” Mycroft continued. “It is rather important that you see this. It’s a matter of national security.”

“National security,” you deadpanned. “Well, I guess you mean business if you’re playing that card.” You shrugged your shoulders and leaned back in the leather chair. “Alright then.”

Mycroft resumed the video, and you reluctantly turned your eyes back to the screen.

“...The point is you need to stay aware. Having your friend, John Watson, in the way is dangerous as it is...but to fall in love with ___________ leaves you vulnerable in an entirely different way.”

“On the contrary, their wisdom and expertise have strengthened my abilities on these cases,” Sherlock countered, regaining his composure.

“Ah, so you don’t deny that you’ve fallen in love?” the Mycroft on the screen asked, and in the present time you felt your heart skip a beat.

Sherlock finally turned around to face him in the video, face blank. “Didn’t think I needed to. You should know better, Mycroft. Sentiment is not my style- especially not love.” It was said without hesitation, and you released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Mycroft in the video shook his head, exhaling. “All I’m saying is you must stay alert. If your enemies realize what she is to you, it could mean danger for __________ and you.”

“Good afternoon, Mycroft.” Sherlock spoke his farewell without a pause and walked out of the library. The screen went dark, and you shook your head.

“So tell me again what the point of that was?” You hoped your expression didn’t betray your pain, but with someone like Mycroft on the other side of the desk, you were basically an open book. “Is this footage your way of showing me he doesn’t care about me and telling me that I need to get out of the way?”

Mycroft’s brows furrowed. “I thought it was rather self-explanatory, but perhaps I need to explain.”

“Explain what?”

His tone grew sharper, and his gaze seemed to demand that you meet it. “That Sherlock Holmes is in love with you.”

Your mouth fell open as you stared back at him. Several moments passed as you processed this information. You at first felt elated, then disbelief, and finally you settled for being skeptical. A chuckle spilled out. “What makes you say that? He just said that love isn’t his style.”

“My brother has the ability to observe. That ability has helped him to reign in his own emotions and allowed him to put on a mask, so to speak. However, I can see past the mask if I know what to look for- which of course I do. It was unmistakable; the slight quirk of his brow, the way he maintained eye contact to try and convince me, and the flash of emotion in his eyes.”

“Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”

“_____________, you’ve seen my ability up close. I see things that many do not, and these are the things I see.” Your gaze fell to rest on the wooden desk in front of you. You weren’t sure how to respond at first. “Sherlock is in love with you,” he continued. “And I gather that you’ve felt similarly toward him for quite some time. I can assume you have his best interest at heart.”

You met his eyes again, nodding. “Of course.”

“Then you realize why you must be protected.”

It was like the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together. You gasped softly in realization. “That’s what this is about? Protecting me so I can’t be used by some villain to get to him?” Your cheeks grew warm. You knew deep down that he cared about you and John more than he let on to the world around him, but you had no idea he felt this way for you.

“Indeed. So, we have reached an understanding, then.”

You hesitated. “Not quite. I don’t know if I like the idea of being followed. Your agents weren’t exactly subtle the first time.” He went silent, and you laughed. “You wanted me to see them. You wanted us to have this conversation. Either way, I still don’t like it.”

“Well,” Mycroft folded his hands on the desk. “I suppose there’s an alternative. Less security would be required if you had some more training.”

“Training,” you echoed. “To fight?”

“Yes, among other things. You’d learn to hone your already-developing observation skills and learn more about criminals and psychological profiles. You are a strong young woman, and I know you can take care of yourself. Still, the concern I have for my brother and his friends would be eased. I have a course prepared for you, much like how we train our agents...should you accept.”

“That sounds pretty interesting,” you said with a nod. “I accept.”

“I’m very glad to hear that, ____________. Training starts at the beginning of next week. I will be handling your training myself, actually.”

“Alright.” You offered your hand across the desk expectantly, and he smiled again as he shook it, though that smile seemed more genuine. “Thanks.”

“I’ll have the car take you home,” he said with a nod.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You made your way up the stairs, trying to calm your thoughts. The drive back to the flat had your mind buzzing with questions. You wondered what it would be like to hone your skills. Ever since you started working with John and Sherlock, you had looked into self-defense in order to be helpful in a pinch, but the kind of training Mycroft offered would be beyond your usual self-defense class. However, you still weren’t ready to tell your friends about the situation, especially Sherlock. They might not approve at first.

The flat was only lit by a fire in the fireplace when you entered. It already appeared that John had retired for the evening. Sherlock was in his chair with a cup of tea in hand, the fire bathing his features in a warm glow and casting shadows in the room.

“Where were you?” his voice rumbled.

“Out.” Vagueness would be seen as suspicious, but you could not get away with lying to him. You didn’t want to anyway. His blue eyes reflecting orange light turned to you, and you knew he was scanning you for any clues.

“Did you remember to stop on the way home and pick up that package?”

You sighed. “I’m sorry, I got side-tracked. I’ll go back out and…”

“No, no, no,” he said quickly. “Don’t concern yourself. It’s late in the evening.”

“You sure?”

“Go and rest. I’m sure Mycroft nearly bored you to sleep with his rambling.”

You halted. There was no point in asking how he knew you had spoken with his brother. He stared at you with clasped hands touching his chin with interest.

“Yeah... anyway, goodnight,” you muttered, turning to walk away again.

“___________.” He said your name so deeply it kept you frozen in place. The consulting detective rose from his chair and approached until he was in your space. You were surprised at how close was that you instinctively took a step back only for him to step with you. “You spoke with Mycroft, and it was something you intended to keep from me.”

“So?” you breathed.

His gaze never left yours as he continued. “You know very well that he is my arch nemesis. I think I have a right to know what was said.”

“It doesn’t concern you.”

His eyes widened ever so slightly. “Ah, but I think it does, or else you would not be so secretive about it. The question is; what is it? You can tell me, or perhaps I’ll just have to find out on my own.” Sherlock leaned in, and you found yourself unable to think straight for a few seconds before finding your words.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you said quickly. “But I’ve agreed to let Mycroft train me. And don’t do that.” You took a step back, placing a hand on his shoulder to gently push him away. “You can use attraction to your advantage when you’re on cases, but not with me.”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

“I’m not a fool, Sherlock. I know you know what I feel for you, and I don’t like you getting in my space and using it to get what you want.”

He took a step back and averted his eyes. “That was not my intention, I assure you.”

“Then why were you standing so close?”

“Because I wanted to,” he said simply.

Silence followed his reply. It lasted for nearly a minute. He looked at the fire, and you released a quiet sigh.

“Mycroft is concerned about you.”

Sherlock scoffed.

“He is concerned that John and I both make you vulnerable,” you continued. “But that I make you vulnerable in a different way. He has assigned agents to protect me, but since I wasn’t crazy about that idea, he gave an alternative. I am going to hone my mental and physical abilities to better protect myself and you.”

“Mycroft and I disagree on many things,” Sherlock said. “But this, I think we agree on this.”

“You do?” You had not expected him to. Sherlock Holmes could come across as quite arrogant at times and did not think he needed to be protected by anyone.

“I think honing your skills is a good idea,” he nodded. “To better protect yourself, not me.”

And there it is.

“But Sherlock-”

“However, I’d like to propose an alternative to Mycroft’s alternative.” He extended his hand, his bright eyes darting up to meet yours. You took it, and he pulled you closer so that your other hand rested on his chest while his other arm wrapped around you. “I help you with your training.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

He hesitated, lips parting to release words that did not emerge. His eyes continued to search yours from mere inches away before he found his voice again. “Because I care about you. I want you to be safe... not for my sake, but for yours.”

“A-alright,” you whispered. You glanced at his lips without thinking and forced yourself to focus again on his eyes. Sherlock definitely noticed it.

“Do you want to kiss me?” The question was spoken so matter-of-factly that you almost didn’t process it.

“Do you want to kiss me?” you returned. Despite your position in his arms, admitting you wanted the contact strangely felt too intimate. Deep down you were afraid he’d pull away and go back to be the cold, distant Sherlock he was when you met him.

“I believe I asked first.” He chuckled, and you found yourself laughing. “But I will say that, yes, I do want to.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“I-”

“Oh, hey _________, hey Sher-” John’s voice greeted casually as he walked past only to be cut off as he took a few steps back in surprise. “Oh, am I interrupting?”

You pulled away from Sherlock in embarrassment. “No, we were just…”

“It was an experiment,” he said quickly.

“Right, an experiment.” You laughed nervously. “Anyway, the experiment was a success. Goodnight to both of you gentlemen.” You stole one last bashful look at the curly-haired detective before heading for the stairwell. On your way up, you heard John’s voice talking to Sherlock in a hushed tone.

“Were the two of you just….about to kiss?”

“What’s it to you?”

“It’s just,” John chuckled. “I didn’t think you were into...that sort of...thing. Romance, I mean.”

“Goodnight, John.”

“But-”

“Goodnight.”

That night you laid in bed wide awake. Your heart kept fluttering as if you were in Sherlock’s arms again. As if his eyes were still gazing into yours. As if his voice was still speaking to you so deeply. What would tomorrow bring? What was next?

You weren’t sure. One thing you did know for certain was that training would be interesting.

#sherlock reader #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock reader insert #sherlock holmes reader insert #sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfiction

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wtffundiefamilies · 3 years

Link

This is from 2013, but holy hell I hope Anna finds it. Entirety of the post beneath the cut; it’s both long and not something people should read with no warning. But I wanted to copypaste in case the link goes down one day. It’s insane to me that these “little details” and “clues” are obvious and screaming red flags to people raised in a normal world. (And no, looking at legal porn is not a “red flag” that someone is a child molester. But, like...again, given the circumstances I’m not sure what we’d expect; we all saw what Jessa said.) It’s part one of a series, and it’s amazing just how much this dude sounds like Josh. And how much their “courtship” sounds like Josh and Anna’s.

Part of my mission, my purpose in life, is to educate others about child predators. I’m not here to stir up some kind of crazy hype, but to present the facts and to give you a bit of insight as to what happened in my own life. How was I so blinded to the fact that for forty years I was living with a practicing pedophile? How did I not see the signs? How did I not pick up on something being very wrong with the man I married?

The truth is that I sensed something was wrong even before we got married, but I didn’t listen to my inner being. I didn’t pay attention to those nudgings that something was wrong. Why? Because as a Christian it had been taught to me from little up that people who went to church were good, honest, moral people. I was taught to trust people who said they believed in God and followed His teachings. And, I did just that. I was, unfortunately, one of the most trusting women who ever walked the face of the earth!

Pay attention to this, please! Just because a person tells you that they walk by the teachings of God does not mean it’s true. In fact, the word of God warns us against “wolves in sheep’s clothing”, and I learned first-hand just what that meant. But, it would be years before my eyes were totally opened to this fact. As a bit of background information, I came from a broken home. My parents divorced when I was fourteen, a sister of mine died when she was thirteen, my mother was an alcoholic, and my father was by today’s terms a “dead beat dad.” Needless to say, I longed for a different life, and I prayed constantly that God would send a good, righteous, faithful Christian into my life so that I could build a home on godly principles and a firm foundation.

I worked hard all through high school so that I could go to college. But, I didn’t want to go to just any college. It had to be a Christian college because I sincerely believed that was the only place I would ever meet a Christian man to marry. Because I worked so hard all through high school, I earned a four-year scholarship to a four-year state school. BUT, you guessed it! The idea of finding and marrying a Christian man was so ingrained in my heart and mind by now that I passed up the scholarship and instead went to a very small, two-year Christian College. Little did I know that this one decision would lead to so much heartache for me and for those who are most special in my life — my children. While it’s true that we can’t see around every bend in the road, there are signs and signals along the way. I didn’t pay attention to anyone who tried to talk to me. One thing was on my mind — finding a Christian mate!

Every person wants to feel special, and longs to be told that they stand out among all of the rest. During the summer between my first and second year of college I met a young man who was articulate, bright, funny, witty, and who also told me that I stood out. He was spending the summer at college and so was I. A friendship developed, and even though I was engaged to marry someone else, this young man worked very hard every day to convince me that I was with the wrong person. He pointed out all of the flaws of the man whose ring I was wearing until he finally convinced me to break off the engagement. That’s a story in and of itself — maybe I’ll share that with you another day.

What was a bit strange to me was that the man I would soon marry had a quiet control over me like nobody ever had before. Even though I had low self-esteem I was used to making my own decisions and being very independent. For the first time in my life I found I was reporting my every move to this quiet, shy young man. He told me I was special. He said out of all the girls on campus I was the only one that he thought was pretty and was a true Christian. He told me just what I wanted to hear. It was the word “Christian” that nailed me! I knew he was the one I had been praying about since my youth!

One of the greatest stories my now ex-husband loved to tell was how he spotted me from across campus and said to his roommate, “See that girl? I’m going to marry her.” This was totally absurd because at the time he said that we had not even met! He later told me he would hide and watch me — study me — and he knew my schedule, when I was going to eat, when I’d walk back to campus, when I would go to work. He said, “I knew everything about you. I knew where you were from morning until night. I knew I would marry you.”

Instead of being freaked out and thinking this guy was some kind of stalker psycho, I was flattered. “He chose me.” Out of all of the girls around, he chose me and that again was more evidence of answered prayers. Deep inside, though, was a gnawing feeling that something wasn’t right. He didn’t talk much. And, for a man who said he loved God, he made fun of people in a mean way. He mocked people’s insecurities. Yes, you guessed it! He mocked me on several occasions and I felt like a piece of dirt he had stepped on. He made fun of the size of my nose. He made fun of my feet calling them “hammer head toes.” He made fun of the space I have between my teeth. I cried myself to sleep many, many nights, but still……..he was a Christian man, and he was so nice when we were together in public. He opened the car door for me (it was my car, by the way). He paid the bill when we went out to eat and left a nice tip. (It was my money that he used.) He talked me into giving him my car (which I had since I was 16) and I found myself asking him for permission to use my own car. This was really weird!

Why did I put up with it? Why does anybody put up with abuse? Because they’ve been so used to being beaten down that they think this is the norm. Please, please — if you’re in a situation like this run for your life!!! This is NOT the way a good relationship works! And, it’s a red flag indicator of many other problems — in my case, it was a big red flag that I was being masterfully manipulated. Groomed to be the wife of a pedophile who was already deeply involved in porn and child sexual molestation!

Learn to listen for “clues” that a decision you’re making might not be right. I had BIG clues that I passed off as “odd”, “not making much sense”, “silly”, or “not that big of a deal.”

Clue 1: For the last four months we dated, my fiance was in Israel doing overseas study. We corresponded by letter only. We were to get married less than one week after he arrived back in the states. In his letters he would write to tell me how he would hide behind the grasses on the beach and watch girls changing out of their clothes and swimming nude. He said he’d skip class and stay there all day. In other words, he was openly telling me he was a “peeping Tom.” This was a test of how far he could manipulate me and I passed with flying colors! I never questioned him about it. Oh, I cried lots, but I never questioned him!

Clue 2: He told me while we were dating that he and one of his cousins spent the summers together and they would steal cartons of cigarettes from stores and sneak out of the house at night and smoke the cigarettes and look at “porn” all night long. Another test! I looked at him quietly but never questioned him. If you want to know the truth — I didn’t even know what porn was!!!!! I had to ask my college roommates. Again, I was being tested. Could he get away with doing things right under my nose? Sure he could. I’d never question a man of God!

Clue 3: He was almost 21 and his favorite job was to “babysit all the little kids at church for free because he loved to give them baths and powder their little butts.” I’m totally sick now as I write these words. Why in heaven’s name didn’t I run from this man? There were so many clues that something was wrong, and I passed them off as being a little odd. Nothing more — just a little bit odd. In fact, I actually thought this was kind of nice. I never saw my father get involved in parenting like that, and I thought, “Wow! This man will make a wonderful father!”

Porn. Lying. Peeping Tom. A young man who loves bathing and powdering little kids. Masterfully manipulating. Gaining the trust of adults. (Church people loved him babysitting their kids!)

I was another one of his victims. I was being set up. I was being groomed I would be the perfect alibi for his continued evil behavior. He was calculating. He studied me. He used me. He used my faith as a means to get what he wanted. He knew what he was doing! His actions were no mistake. He worked very hard to plan every detail.

Listen up everyone! Please don’t do as I did! If your gut is telling you something is wrong, it probably is!!! Pay attention to the little details and the little voice that is whispering something is wrong!!!

This is just the beginning of my story. I will share more in the weeks to come in hopes that others will not be blinded to the facts as I was. We must get educated about child sexual molesters so that we can protect life’s most precious blessings — our children!

Why am I sharing the ugly, sad parts of my life? That’s simple. Because children are beautiful. Children are precious. Children deserve to be protected. Statistics (according to information found here ) tell us that 1 in every 3 girls and 1 in every 6 boys are molested by the age of 18. Please help me to stop this! Let’s get educated! Let’s do all we can to make it incredibly difficult for the molester! Let’s be vigilant on behalf of our children — at all times!!!

Every child should have the ability to grow up feeling safe and loved and whole and pure!

It isn’t easy or comfortable for me to write about this, but I must. I must take this terribleness and do something positive with it. I must work for the safety of our children. Thanks so much for stopping by and for taking the time to read this. Thanks even more for making yourself more aware of what is going on right under our noses — in our schools, our churches, our camps, our homes. Let’s do all we can to work together to make this a safe place for our children!

Love, Clara

#clara hinton #sin in the camp

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isthisthingeven0n · 4 years

Text

not a grinch : s.r

when spencer finds out you don’t like christmas he’s determined to make you fall in love with the holiday, no matter what it takes. (2.3k)

criminal minds masterlist

(please do not steal my ideas/work or repost elsewhere without permission. thank you!)

( sorry but shameless plug but i have an etsy shop )

Walking through the glass doors of the BAU your eyes were greeted by something unexpected for a Thursday morning; Doctor Spencer Reid wearing a Santa hat and gold tinsel around his neck like a scarf.

Spencer was leaning across his desk beside yours as he explained something to JJ and Emily, both looking slightly regretful to have gotten themselves into the conversation in the first place. Yet Spencer’s smile was bright, his hands moving around as his eyes glistened, but it could easily be the tinsel bouncing from the lights.

“-and even though the celebration dates back to 336 in Rome, it didn’t become a major Christian festival until the 9th century!” Spencer beams to the two agents whilst you place your bag and coffee on your desk.

Emily internally sighs as she turns to face you. “All I did was ask if he had purchased a Christmas tree yet.” She holds her hands up in disbelief as you shake your head.

“Speaking of which, have you?” JJ directs her question to you as you pause, lifting the mug of warm coffee to your lips.

To their surprise, you shake your head. “I don’t really celebrate Christmas.” You admit, sipping your drink thinking nothing of it until Spencer’s eyes widen in shock.

Spencer thought he knew you pretty well in the two years he’s known you. He considers you to be a close friend, part of the BAU family. Yet, this is the first time he’s ever heard such a thing. Last year you joined in with festivities, but as Spencer sits down on his chair beside yours he casts his mind back to the previous year.

“God, don’t let Penelope hear you say that.” Emily jokes and you naturally glance around, checking whether the enthused blonde was in sight.

“You got everyone a gift last year,” Spencer speaks up, catching you off guard as you open the file on your desk, JJ raising an eyebrow to you. “every gift was in brown paper with a red ribboned bow. You came to Rossi’s when we sang songs, but,” Remembering the details crisply, Spencer can picture you backing away to the bathroom when everyone started to sing carols. How you returned once it was over and had a glass of mulled wine before heading home.

“I don’t mind some elements of Christmas, don’t get me wrong.” You say softly with a smile. “But in general it’s not something I celebrate or spend time on.”

Watching you shrug your shoulders, you carry on with work whilst Spencer remains in a state of shock over this fact. What could possibly make you not celebrate Christmas?

“Who converted you?” Spencer questions, deeply curious at this point.

Forcing back a sigh, you glance over to the Doctor as his hand rests under his chin. “No one, Spencer.” You laugh lightly. “You know I’m an atheist.”

“Yes, but Christmas is a Christian holiday, and did you know-”

“Come on, Spence,” JJ interrupts, and you silently thank her for doing so. “if Y/n isn’t a fan of Christmas so be it, just give her a chance to actually work through her case files.” JJ smiles to you whilst Spencer nods, spinning on his chair to face his desk once more, but the question never truly leaves his mind.

A week has passed since you were questioned about your disdain for Christmas, but that doesn’t mean it’s left Spencer’s thoughts.

Sitting in the Batcave beside Penelope, Spencer explains exactly what you had said to him.

“And here I thought Y/n was a normal person.” Penelope scoffs playfully, carrying on with her work whilst Spencer sighs. “What do you want me to do? Hack into her phone and have it play Christmas songs in the morning when her alarm goes off?” Penelope suggests, and before Spencer can interrupt, she jumps excitedly in her seat. “Oh! How about I send carol singers to her door, or Morgan with mistletoe, god knows I want that at my doorstep.” Penelope clears her throat as Spencer shakes his head, trying to remove the image from his thoughts.

“I was thinking of getting her a tree?” Spencer suggests, and Penelope nods.

“Yeah, that’s a much better more realistic idea.” Penelope mutters, quickly searching online and finds several suitable options.

Scanning over the choices, Spencer hums to himself. “That one,” A small smile forms on his lips as Penelope proceeds to order the tree.

“Done and done!” She happily states, spinning on her chair to face Spencer. “I’m sure she’ll love it, I mean how could she not when it’s from you?” Penelope teases, noting the blush forming on Spencer’s cheeks as he thanks his friend before leaving the Batcave.

Returning to his desk, Spencer overhears you and JJ talking quietly at her desk. “I promise I’m not a grinch, J.” You laugh lightly, something Spencer wishes he could hear more of if he had the chance. “It’s just not my favourite holiday, but I love it for the kids. Speaking of which, what can I get Henry this year?”

“Oh, you don’t have to get him anything, Y/n.” JJ reassures you, but you shake your head, insisting. “Let me check with Will, he’s got his list for Santa ready and waiting.” JJ chuckles, patting your arm as you make your way back to your desk.

“Did you know that J.R.R Tolkein used to leave his children detailed illustrations and letters from Santa Claus? Originally, children didn’t send letters to Santa, instead, Santa sent letters to children all around the world. Though Santa Claus isn’t a real person, the letters parents forged were enough to keep the excitement going.” Spencer states as you sit back down at your desk.

“Wait, Santa isn’t real?” You gasp, a playful smile crossing your lips as Spencer pauses, still finding himself awestruck sometimes by your quick wit. “But that is fascinating, Reid. I might have to think about doing that myself someday, scare kids witless into being well behaved.”

Swaying in your chair, Spencer can’t help but picture it. You, with children at Christmas. Part of him wishes he could be in that picture, but all he envisions is himself being a distant Uncle, one of the many your children could have in the BAU.

“Would you, would you like to join me Christmas shopping after work?” You ask, and Spencer stops writing mid-sentence as he looks over to you as you bite your lower lip. “If you don’t I get it! A lot of people all shopping, it’s a breeding ground for germs.” You ramble, looking away from Spencer. “But Henry is your Godson, and I was hoping you might know what I could get him?” Your voice becomes quieter as you finish your question, and you cross one leg over the other and shuffle forward.

“No, I’d love to,” Spencer speaks up, trying not to stumble over his words as you nod happily. “I, I’ve got an idea or two of what you could get.” Spencer adds and your smile only widens like Spencer’s heart.

“Perfect, thanks, Spence.” Your smile is contagious as you hold your hand out, motioning for Spencer’s mug as you head towards the kitchen.

Once out of sight, JJ peers over. “That sounds hopeful.” She chimes in, snapping Spencer from his daydream.

“What?” Spencer asks, but JJ glances over towards the kitchen before returning her focus to Spencer. “It’s nothing JJ, Y/n just needs some help Christmas shopping.” Spencer tries to shrug it off, knowing he’s just helping out as a friend, doing you a favour.

“Sure, Spence.” JJ sings lightly before returning to work, just as you reappear with a mug of coffee for Spencer as you hum a tune before returning to work mode.

Walking out from the toy store, you wrap your coat back around your body tightly whilst Spencer holds the bag of gifts. “Spencer, I can carry it,” You giggle, but Spencer continues to insist.

“Nope, you drove here so I’m carrying the bags.” He states, smiling proudly as you carry on down the street passing various shop windows brightly lit as Christmas music blares from each entrance.

“Crazy to think how many songs there are about Christmas, huh?” You interrupt the silence looming over you both as you near the market stalls filled with everything ranging from trinkets to edible tools.

“Well, despite Christmas dating back to the 9th Century, Christmas songs have only been around for the past two hundred years with over a million songs within the genre. Did you know that two thousand one hundred and ninety-six are Bing Crosby classics?” Spencer glances down as you shake your head as you both walk through the market stalls.

“Fancy some mistletoe loves? For the happy couple?” A man holds out a stalk of mistletoe in your direction.

Neither of you speaks up as you keep your head down, trying to ignore the man’s words as you near the parking lot in silence.

The drive to your apartment was uncomfortable. Everything had been going well by Spencer’s account until the Christmas market, he should’ve said something to the vendor, or taken the mistletoe just to be polite.

“Well, thanks again, Spencer.” You rock back and forth on your heels as you walk up to your apartment, Spencer insisted on walking you up as he lived down the street.

“Pleasures all mine, here, I’ll bring these in.” Spencer motions to the three bags of gifts in his arms as you unlock the front door and stop in your tracks.

Sitting on your coffee table is a small Christmas tree, adorned with fairy lights in a woven pot with a red ribbon around it tied in a bow.

Spencer hovers in your doorway, unable to gauge a reaction whilst he remains behind you.

“What is that doing here?” You ask bluntly, your shoulders dropping as you exhale deeply.

Walking into your apartment, you turn around to look at Spencer. Your hands rest on your hips whilst Spencer places the bags down, rubbing his hands over his jacket.

“I, Penelope and I thought it would be a nice touch.” Spencer meekly responds.

“Well, you both thought wrong, okay?” You snap back. “I told you, Spencer, I don’t like Christmas! Why is it such a big deal?!” You raise your voice as you pace around your apartment, throwing your coat aside as you run your fingers through your hair.

Stepping forward, Spencer closes your front door. “I just don’t understand, Y/n.” Spencer states. “I just thought you might’ve been brought up without the concept of Christmas, but I know that isn’t the case, so what tainted the holiday?”

Raising your head up, Spencer can see tears glossing in your eyes. “You really wanna know Reid?” You quietly ask. “My parents always argued at Christmas. We never had a Christmas dinner as they just yelled throughout the house as the turkey burnt in the oven. Presents weren’t ever wrapped as they blamed one another for not doing them. Sometimes they didn’t even get us presents.” You explain as you slump down on your sofa.

“Y/n, I had no idea,” Spencer trails off.

“I didn’t mind, but when they separated Christmas just never happened, we didn’t celebrate it.” You sniff. “So I grew up without it, and even now my parents don’t send cards or even get in touch on Christmas Day. We all just act as if it isn’t happening.”

You forcefully wipe away the tears that roll down your cheeks, unaware of Spencer moving and sitting down beside you.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n,” Spencer whispers as he keeps a gap between you both, not wanting to invade your space. “and I’m sorry for trying to push Christmas onto you if I knew I’d never have done this or told you all those stupid facts.”

“I like the stupid facts, Spence.” A watery laugh leaves your lips as you glance up to Spencer, shuffling closer toward him as you scan his eyes for any uncertainty. “And I like the tree it’s just,” Exhaling quietly, you close your eyes. “no one has ever done anything nice like this for me, especially at Christmas.”

Lifting his arm up, Spencer pulls you into his embrace as you rest your head on his chest. “If you’ll let me, I’d love to show you Christmas can be a wonderful time of year.” He mutters.

“You’d do that?” You ask quietly, tilting your head to look up at his bright smile, watching as he nods.

“Consider me Santa’s little helper, bringing Christmas cheer.” Spencer jokes as you laugh, your tears now drying up as you sit upright.

“I’ve got something for you.” You state, reaching into your pocket as Spencer raises a brow quizzingly. He didn’t see you buy anything from the shops small enough to fit into your pocket.

Revealing a stalk of mistletoe, Spencer’s lips part in surprise. “You thief.” Spencer smirks as you shrug your shoulder.

“I’m no thief, Penelope snuck it into my bag before we left.” You explain as you hold it up above you both. “Got any facts about mistletoe, Doctor?”

“Too many, but there’s something I’d rather do.” Spencer mutters, lifting his hand up to rest on your cheek. “Is this okay?” He whispers as you move closer toward him, his breath fanning your lips.

“More than okay.” You respond, dropping the mistletoe as you wrap your arms around his neck as he kisses you sweetly. “Can we watch a movie?” You mutter into his lips as you pull away.

“Of course,” Spencer smiles, kissing your cheek as you curl up into his arms. “what about How The Grinch Stole Christmas?”

Looking down, Spencer can see you rolling your eyes. “Fine, just to prove that I’m the Grinch no more.” You return to resting your head on Spencer’s chest, admiring the small tree as the movie begins to play.

Part of you hopes that this might be the start of new traditions and learning to love Christmas with Spencer by your side. “Merry Christmas, Y/n.” Spencer mutters as he kisses the top of your forehead as your eyes begin to droop, just as the credits begin to play.

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