#like every time its brought up he is one step away from going ‘that heathen holiday celebrated by fake christians’

[iwrotemrtambourineman]

asshole coworker was raised weird christian and every time Christmas gets brought up he starts parroting anti-catholic sentiments from the 1800s. normal guy.

[mrpenguinpants]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

I love modern au. Or any “everything is fine, no one died, it’s just a fever dream” au. Half of me is thinking, damn maybe I should answer this serious- LOL HAHA no. That’s not happening. Time to crack my knuckles and let my brainworms take over again.

Once again, this is 90% crack 10% content. I want to switch up my characters from the last brainworm post but I included Kaeya and Diluc.

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Today’s appreciation post goes to twistedwishes. Hey! I’ve been seeing you pop up a lot lately and thanks for the support 💕💕 I hope things are going better for you and you’re doing alright^^ I feel kinda bad for making appreciation posts on crack fics but hopefully this is somewhat funny haha. 

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Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: Roommate [V1]

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

  @mikeysbike @hanniejji@unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @dandelily @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife  @dokidokisama @simpygrimoire @minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki​

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Diluc

Absolute pretty boy who has braincells, but only if Kaeya is not there. In his mind, Kaeya’s presence makes his room loose 40% of their common sense. He can’t prove it just yet but he’s working on it. He majors in accounting but also has a minor in marketing, logistics’ management, fia- he majors everything business related. He’s going to become the next Elon Musk through smarts or by getting the competition drunk. There can be no contest if he’s the only candidate. He’s actually a hard working guy that overworks and stresses way too much. You have daily “Diluc recharge” evenings where he just hangs onto you while you go through your day.

“Don’t fucking talk to me until I’ve had my coffee,” except there is no coffee - he drinks grape juice out of juice boxes and his only energy boost is when he meets up with you - and that’s his constant mood. So he usually only hangs around you and Jean, since she has childhood friend status and is actually an angel. By default, Lisa is added and Diluc doesn’t mind her but if he see’s Kaeya, it’s full on war paint mode. If he's not busy with work or studies, he's usually with you either in your dorm or his apartment.

He has a fanclub and he seriously hates it and tries to do everything in his power to get Ningguang to take it down. Shouldn’t this be against his rights? But she refuses for whatever reason and makes a whole speech about free will. No matter what he does, someone manages to take a picture and it get’s printed in the university’s newspaper. The only bonding time he has with Kaeya is every Monday, where they collect and burn all the universities newspapers before anyone can get their hands on it. You always bring marshmallows to make smores during their arson activities.

“When I graduate I’m going to burn this school down to the ground. That’s not a threat it’s a promise.”

Ningguang

Is secretly the leader of the Diluc fanclub - not that she likes Diluc, she’s in a questionable platonic poly marriage with you and Beidou - but it was the easiest way to gain funds for the student council. Which she is the president of, so rip Diluc the fanclub stays. Ruthless business woman I tell you. But she can run in heels so her danger factor rises by at least 20%.

Majors in social sciences and law but more specifically the political science & government. She saw the Imperial State Crown that the Queen of England wears and says yes, that’s mine now. If she’s not with Beidou and you planning on “how to infiltrate the state government just for lols”, then she’s with Keqing, Ganyu, and Zhongli discussing student council things. Should they or should they not tell the student body that they can see everyone’s search results? Sit back and relax as the school goes into chaos. 

She’s probably the scariest person on campus No, she is the scariest person on campus. She’s the scariest person on campus. But secretly she’s popping 20 aspirins just to make it through a night. She has the digestive system of steel. She still holds the title of "seriously do not try and beat her in a drinking game it's never going to happen" and that's her proudest achievement in life but sadly she can’t put it on her resume. Kaeya is still trying to beat her out of spite but so far it hasn't been working. You’re seriously concerned for her when she get’s challenged but Beidou gives you a way-to-hard slap on the back and cheers her on. If Ninngguang somehow get’s alcohol poisonings she’ll somehow find away to make a profit out of it.

"I'll let him die, I'll get the insurance money."

Kaeya

One day he chugged too much mouth wash, passed out, and somehow woke up in university majoring in law. His idea is that if he is apart of the law, he can therefore stand above it. To be fair, his only goal in life is to say “I am the manager” and he can go live the rest of his life in bliss or as a hermit. He’s secret best friends with you but wouldn't be caught dead beside you. He will stab a bitch if you ever get hurt but will still trip you on the way home. Seriously, you have no idea why people find him attractive. Your guess is it’s the eye patch or the clap of his ass cheeks that keeps alerting everyone.  

He’s apart of the newspaper club and if anyone asks: No, he has no idea who keeps taking all the newspapers and burns them in the back of the campus. Originally, he joined because he was nosy and needed to join some type of club for his resume. He sometimes feels bad for his junior assistant Amber because he keeps tricking her and says that Diluc is secretly a demon that is trying to steal all the jobs and is apart of the lizard government hell bent on eradicating the human race. He even brought out a whiteboard for this joke, he’s dedicated to his job ok? 

The type of guy to try and be humble and say his work is “okay” but will choke a bitch if anyone agrees. He tends to leave everything last minute and says that it’s his drug since actual drugs could land you one year in prison and a maximum penalty of $2,000. You have to awkwardly hold in your concerned mother head shake when you see him speed running his assignment literally right when the professor is walking around to check if students finished. 

“I was taught how to lead not to read.”

Mona

Broke wallet #2. Zhongli is broke wallet #1 but Childe simps for him so is he really a broke wallet at this point? In this essay, I Mona Megistus, will explain why I have the rights to the title “Broke Wallet #1″...

Believes that astrology should be an actual career path but refuses to take astronomy as her major. I can read the stars not a textbook that tells me how to calculate the mass of the sun divided by the fucks I give. Instead she went into Philosophy and cries to Albedo, who is an actual prodigy genius- sir lend some braincells to everyone else please?, that her professor keep turning her paper down because “star reading” is not an academic source.

Fischl wants her to join the occult club because, surprisingly, Mona is very good at telling people’s fates through her crayon sketch ouija board. She thinks first year Fischl is cute but is put off by the cosplay roleplay that she has going on. She would join except that stupid hat wearing gremlin in her lit class would make fun of her if he found out.

You gave her half your lunch one day and bought her a doughnut "because she seemed upset" and "out of the goodness of your heart" whatever the hell that means. She thinks you pensioned it but once that thought comes she takes a bite. Poison from a doughnut is not the worst way to go out, classes are hard enough. She’s waiting for the lord to strike her down anyways. 

“Its not about passing, its about doing better than everyone else.”

Venti

Slept through most of highschool and people question how he got into university. He’s a music major (wow how fucking original is that), and if anyone asks him to serenade someone or just do anything, he’ll do it for the right price. Or if you buy him alcohol because he still keeps getting ID checked. He’s banking on Kaeya actually becoming a lawyer or being on good terms with Diluc so he can finally stop being arrested for looking like a toddler.

Takes one step into classes and quickly nopes out and goes back to bed. Professors have no idea how he hasn't dropped out or failed. He just has some god given talent. He does whine at you to pretty pretty please with a cherry on top tutor him because you're such an angel and would never leave your poor but awesome best friend hanging right? He needs to get this essay down but how he is suppose to explain how the number 10 is symbolic and connects to the universe or the meaning of life. Do you think he can just say it’s apart of his culture and make up some random myth to pretend it looks like he knows what he’s doing? 

He’s honestly going with the flow and put his brain on the back burner all of highschool and only now realizes wait, I actually have to use my brain?

He’s been banned from most club chats since Venti has the no chill card. Someone says “lol I look ugly today.” and he’ll respond "yup, you look like a cow." and he get’s banned. Zhongli keeps a speed run timer on his phone just to document these occasions.

"Sad spelled backwards is das and das how it be sometimes."

Childe

An actual dumbass that somehow does well. He eats sandwiches with the crust off, this heathen. Surprisingly he’s studying to become a physical therapist but most of his experience has come from breaking his own bones. You’re scared how he's going to be if he actually becomes a therapist. If he'll make bets with his patients or try to one up whatever crazy injury they get into. Everything is a challenge to him that sometimes the best way to deal with Childe is to knock him out. 

This man really knows the way to a Zhongli’s woman's heart. Through micro transactions. Mona saw him accidently drop $20 and just shrugged and walked off. She has never been both spiritually and physically offended in her life. She did take the $20 though. As much as you hate leeching on Chile when he’s basically a walking wallet that probably uses bills as tissue paper, you can’t help but give him puppy eyes while planning on how to get into his will. If he even plans on having one, he might honestly write “whoever wins in a gladiator style duel in my funeral’s tournament, they will get my fortune.”. 

Any sport the university offers Childe is probably in it. Which is how he met Zhongli, challenged him to a fight, proceeded to have his ass handed to him, got a backhanded compliment, and screamed to you he was in love and how he found his soulmate. He's secretly very sappy and has cried and watched every Disney and Pixar movie at least 28 times.

"IM NOT TOO SPICY! I’M A TINY BIT ABOVE MILD IF ANYTHING!”

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God if it isn’t Scaramouche, it’s Childe that ruins the aesthetic. This is why I hate you. Why do you people enable me like this, it isn’t even good. This is pretty much a @ yourself moment and I vibe hard with Venti. This entire post was just to make a joke about the clap of Kaeya’s ass cheeks alerting the guards.

This week might slow down since I have classes and assignments. My reply’s are gonna be late too, sorry;; (oh and thank you to everyone that was so supportive and nice when I mentioned it. All of you. Beautiful 💕💕 )

[mrsalwayswrite]

Fight For You (Ivar x Reader)

This is my contribution to @youbloodymadgenius​ 1k celebration! Congrats, love! 

My prompt was: You had my curiosity. But now you have my attention. (Django Unchained)

Warnings: a smidgeon of violence, talk of premeditative murder of a spouse, some possessive!Ivar? my poor attempts at humor and flirting.

Words:3900

  The talking of the other earls, jarls and king grated on Ivar's nerves. Instead of threatening to cut out all of their tongues and make a necklace of them, like he strongly desired to do, he silently reclined in his seat fuming. It was both boring and infuriating to listen to these lesser men squabble amongst themselves like children. But like Hvitserk frequently reminded him, the others needed to be included in the planning. Even if Ivar despised it. 

 So he sat back, pretending to listen to the others as they attempted to make a battle plan. Even if it was a piss poor attempt and honestly, laughable. He kept silent for now. For he had his own plan and when he felt he had given them enough time to argue, he would share what they needed to know to fulfill it. He never shared the full plan; he would never give another that kind of power and knowledge. 

 King Harald Finehair was the least incompetent of the warriors and since at least half of their heathen army was there due to him, many listened intently when he spoke. 

 "If our scouts are correct, our army vastly outnumbers anything the town has." King Harald placed both of his hands on the table, drawing the attention of those under the meeting tent to himself. "I say tomorrow we attack with our full force. If they barricade themselves in, then we burn the gate down."

 "How great will our casualties be then?" Earl Liefson questioned, eyeing most of Norway's King with scrutiny. 

 "Did you not hear King Harald? We outnumber them! Those that die during the fight will certainly go to Valhalla to feast with Odin and Thor. Let us attack without fear or worry!" Jarl Haakon boasted, slapping a hand to his broad chest in emphasis. 

 This time Ivar did not try to suppress his annoyance. He rolled his eyes at the Jarl, practically biting his tongue to withhold a scathing comment. Looking to his left, he caught the gaze of his brother, Hvitserk, who at least was better at hiding his irritation. 

 There were many men that Ivar detested, many men he loathed. Jarl Haakon was most certainly in the top five. The man loved the sound of his own voice and any idea spewed from his mouth usually equaled in value to a pig's fart. At first, Ivar could not fathom how the Jarl managed to stay in his position of power. Sure, he fought like a berserker and thrived on bloodlust like many Vikings…. but he was a pompous, narrow-minded idiot. 

 Yet once the meetings started, plans being drawn for this great raid, Ivar figured it out. 

 It was you. 

 In the beginning, some of the other earls initially protested when Jarl Haakon brought you into the meetings; especially since you were no shieldmaiden, you were only his wife. But when he flatly stated either you came with him or him and his men left, their protests died down. Those very men were further silenced when King Harald greeted you warmly and welcomed your company. 

 At first, Ivar loathed your presence, thinking you were there just to satisfy your husband's ego, his continuous need to show off his beautiful wife. It was only after plans were finalized and Jarl Haakon looked down at you, his hand possessively on your lower back, that Ivar realized you were not there just to look pretty. 

 You surveyed over the "map" drawn into the dirt, eyes analyzing. Then you did the most unexpected thing. You critiqued the plan. Perfecting it in ways that even Ivar had not seen. 

 And the bloodthirsty prince could only sit back in shock and awe. 

 It was after that first encounter, whenever you were nearby, his gaze never strayed far from you. 

 Now, you stood silently next to your husband, focused on the plan being discussed. Instead of fully listening to the others, Ivar watched you. The way you bit your lower lip in concentration, the faint twitch of your right eye when someone said something you disagreed with, the quiet way you controlled your husband with a simple word or touch. It all mesmerized him. 

 What inflamed him the most was the few times your gaze would rise to meet his. The way you would peek at him through your lashes like a shy maiden, as if silently asking for his permission, then speak to the group of men. The power and intellect you kept hidden would be unveiled with your words. It was enough to make Ivar salivate every time. 

 Most women bothered Ivar with their whimpering or tedious nature, even most of the shieldmaidens made him want to plunge a dagger into them. But not you. You were not most women. Ivar swore on all the gods that you were a Valkyrie sent from Odin to bless him, to confirm his favor with the Aesir and his lineage tracing back to Odin himself. 

 Yet somehow you were married to that fool of a Jarl….and Ivar hated it. 

 "What say you, Ivar?" King Harald asked, drawing the prince back to the current conversation. The gazes of the other leaders weighed heavily once their eyes turned to Ivar, but instead of buckling underneath their inquiry, he thrived. 

 "I say why waste time and men? Let us lead a main force from the river like they expect us to do. A second force will attack from the north, hiding in the woods. My scout says there is a second smaller gate that their hunters use to leave the town. Because of its location, it is not well defended. Using that, there will be no need for a siege." He confidently explained his plan, looking around the meeting tent. A knot in his core tightened as he saw the corners of your lips turned upward in a brief smile and the bright gleam in your eyes. His plan was flawless, but seeing your approval bolstered his confidence, made him straighten further in his chair. 

 "Why did you not tell us about this second gate sooner?" An older earl demanded. His fingers tapped on the axe he wore on his hip, either purposefully threatening or mindlessly was yet to be determined. 

 The dark-haired prince rolled his head to the side, glaring at the man with malice in his icy blue eyes. "I waited until the information was necessary. If you sent your own scouts, they may have discovered it themselves instead of wasting their time drunk everyday we've been here."

 "A second gate is fortuitous for us." King Harald interrupted before the earl could respond. "We will lose less men. I will lead the main attack with my men. Ivar will lead the second attack since you were the one who brought this information."

 Ivar cocked his head for a moment then nodded. "Agreed." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jarl Haakon turn to you with a silent question in his look. Without hesitation, you give a single nod and your husband smiled. 

 "What are we standing around for then? We have Saxons to kill and glory and riches to earn. Let us prepare!" Jarl Haakon loudly proclaimed, making a couple of the earls chuckle. After that everyone began to disperse back to their own tents and warriors. Word would spread to prepare for battle the next day. 

 Catching Hvitserk's eye, Ivar motioned for his older brother to accompany him. Together, they walked out of the meeting tent and past groups of warriors, tents and cooking fires. The noon sun blared down on them, causing many to seek shelter under tents or tree canopies. 

 "What is it?" The flaxen-haired warrior asked, falling easily into step with his little brother. 

 Ivar hated how easily his brother could keep pace with him, while he stumbled along with his crippled legs and crutch. It was not Hvitserk's fault, but it was a resentment that Ivar still held nonetheless. Keeping his gaze forward, he grunted a vague reply. "I have questions."

 "Ah." Hvitserk ran a hand over his mustache as he surveyed the camp around them. After a moment, he spoke up again. "Anything to do with y/n?"

 Ivar snapped his head around to glare only to meet the amused look of his smirking brother. His upper lip curled up in a snarl but Hvitserk cut him off with a shrug.

 "What? You're not as subtle as you think you are. You're lucky her husband hasn't taken notice of your…. attention."

 "Shut up."

 "Alright…. we are going to see her though, right?"

 Ivar did not respond, instead he grit his teeth as he pressed on to his destination. Beside him, Hvitserk laughed but kept pace and any further comments to himself. 

 The two princes walked towards Jarl Haakon's tent. From observing, Ivar knew that the Jarl would be off with King Harald, talking to their warriors and finalizing their own plans. Without fail, he always postured himself to the forefront in speaking to their warriors, most likely to make sure his voice was heard just after King Harald and to boost his own ego. Even if his usefulness in making the battle plans was nonexistent. He was a warrior, through and through, but not a strategist. His value lied on his ability to wield his sword and axe on the battlefield.  

 To Ivar's surprise, you always retired to your tent right away after meetings. He witnessed on more than one occasion where your husband tried to convince you to accompany him, all to no avail. Oh, it was obvious your husband cared for you, but he also thrived on the jealous looks from others. His hand continuously rested on your lower back or around your shoulders, pulling you against him, dwarfing you with his larger frame. Frequently, he loudly proclaimed how he was gifted with a wife from Freya herself, making sure to steal a kiss as he laughed boisterously. 

 A coy smile danced on your lips but Ivar could see it hidden in the depths of your eyes, the annoyance and disgust by your husband's actions. You were a goddess on Midgard. That simpleton of a husband was not worthy of you. He should worship at your feet, begging for a moment of your divine attention. Yet, you were his lawful wife.

 And jealousy threatened to burn Ivar alive as he looked on.  

 The son of Ragnar was further enraged as he approached your tent to witness no guards posted in front of it. How dare your husband leave you undefended? He was even more of a fool than Ivar thought.

 With his usual arrogance, Ivar drew back the flap to your tent without calling out for your permission. As he stepped through, he could hear Hvitserk mutter something under his breath behind him, but still followed into the Jarl's tent.

 You stood next to a short table on the far side of the tent. Your hair was out of its typical braids, catching the prince's eye. An image of him running his hand through your hair flashed through his mind without warning. With the cloth in hand and the shallow bowl before you, Ivar knew he had interrupted your cleansing. 

 "Prince Ivar," you started, dragging the cloth down your neck sensually before setting it softly into the bowl. "My husband is not here at the moment. Would you like me to send for him?"

 "That's alright. It's you I'm interested in." He smirked as he watched you straighten further, a faint furrow between your brows. Your eyes continued to hold his, sending a thrill straight down his spine. He moved to the center of the tent, drawing closer as if magnetized by you. Leaning on his crutch, he tipped his head to peer at you. Lesser men would fear being alone with him, a Viking known for his bloodlust and cruelty but not you. There was no fear, no concern for safety in your eyes, only interest….and that amused and enthralled the crippled prince. 

 "I confess, I find your relationship with your husband…. peculiar. At first, I thought you were another pretty face, just another useless wife. But I see now, you are far more cunning and clever than you let on. Even now. Your husband is a fool, but he is intelligent enough to recognize he's need for you. So, I have been curious. Why are you still married to that oaf? I suspect there are far better suitors out there for you."

 You shrugged, taking a couple steps closer to the center of the tent. "It was the gods' will, and he is a good man." 

 "He's an idiot." Ivar deadpanned.  A muffled snort came from the direction of Hvitserk behind him but he kept his piercing eyes on you. 

 "Perhaps. He is still my husband."

 "Mmm….and do you care for your husband?"

 You glanced over at Hvitserk, who stood near the entrance, leaning against a pole casually, and then back to Ivar. For the first time, he saw uncertainty flash across your eyes but it was quickly subdued. "Why does it matter?"

 He moved closer until he stood before you, the sound of his crutch muffled by the furs covering the ground. "He is always touching you, but you never reciprocate. You are…. complacent. Tell me, honestly. Does his intellect bore you? Is that why you run back to your tent?"

 "Ivar…." Hvitserk said in warning, only to be ignored. 

 "Would you bore me?" You asked coquettishly, looking at him from under your lashes, making his heart race. "I find most men…. simple."

 "I think you know the answer to that." His mouth curved in an arrogant smile. "Is that why you steal looks at me during meetings?"

 "Or is it because I feel your eyes on me already?"

 Gods, he wanted to touch you. As you stared into one another's eyes, a silent conversation flowed between you two. It was now he finally saw what he hoped for, what he silently prayed for. A longing lay hidden in your gaze that matched his own. An understanding. A hunger that bespoke of adventure and passion. The torturous desire was enough to drive him mad with need but he refrained. He would make you come to him though, he would make you touch him first to prove your want for him. 

 "Is this…. are you two flirting?" Hvitserk suddenly asked, shattering the revealing moment. 

 "No, brother. I would never flirt with a married woman." Ivar took a step back from you, feeling the space like a chasm between you two. "I think my questions have been answered." He turned around and started towards the entrance. 

 In anger, most people revealed their true selves. He had learned that if he could say the right thing, push people the right way, their true selves, their true desires would manifest. So he decided to see if the meek wife you portrayed was accurate or just a mask, if he could draw that longing out from you. He turned his head just enough to the side to make sure you heard his next statement. "It seems you are just another pretty face after all."

 In the next step, the sharp edge of a dagger pressed to his throat froze his step. Shifting his head slightly, the edge dug further, almost piercing his skin. You stood just behind him, the dagger in your hand. 

 "I may not be a shieldmaiden but I am no helpless Saxon woman." You slowly, teasingly, dragged the dagger's tip further up his neck to his pulse point. The whole time he never removed his eyes from yours over his shoulder. The tension glided across his body, shooting a shiver down his spine. He wondered if the heated look in your eyes matched his own. If he licked his lips, could he taste the ardor saturating the air between you.  

 When you spoke again, it was with a low and titillating tone. Your breath brushed against his neck, the feeling of your body almost touching his- tormenting. His hand clutched his crutch with a white-knuckle grip, his self-control slipping away with each moment. "I always have at least three daggers on me…. would you like to try and find them?"

 "I do!" Hvitserk said, raising his hand, breaking the tension. "I volunteer!"

 You winked at Hvitserk before withdrawing the dagger from Ivar's throat and taking a step back. Ivar continued to watch you as your gaze met his again. "Do not assume just because you cannot see something, does not mean it is not there. I may look like the submissive wife but that is far from the truth."

 To say he was aroused was an understatement. Spinning on his heel, he faced you, not even trying to suppress the hunger bubbling up within him. "You had my curiosity. But now you have my attention."

 "And what does that mean, 'I have your attention'? Is there a prize?" You raised an eyebrow but the devious smirk betrayed your amusement. 

 "I always reward those who…. interest me." He shifted forward to gently reach forward and caress your cheek. A sharp inhale and the fluttering of your lashes at his touch proved his effect on you. Carefully, you tipped your head, leaning your cheek against his hand. Never before had he coveted you so strongly. His instincts screamed at him to take your hand and lead you back to his tent, to make you his forever. You were a free woman though; the choice was yours. He wanted you to choose him. 

 "You are too smart for that idiot. Leave him." He muttered, tracing a finger over the seam of your lips. 

 "It's not that simple."

 "It can be."

 You pressed a kiss to the tip of his finger. "And what will I do then?"

 "You can be my woman!" Hvitserk declared, placing a hand over his heart. 

 You giggled at the harsh glare Ivar threw his brother over his shoulder. 

 "What?" Hvitserk asked in mock innocence. “You know I would share, little brother!"

 "Hvitty, say another word and I will cut your tongue out."

 The flaxen-haired prince rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Both of you need to work on your flirting. I did quite enjoy the little display you gave us, it's been far too long since someone threatened Ivar. We could make a shieldmaiden out of you yet, y/n."

 You stepped around Ivar to approach Hvitserk, much to Ivar's chagrin. He watched you give a quick peck on the cheek to his brother. Red began to color Ivar's sight, the tight grip on his crutch borderline painful.

 "I could make you very happy." Hvitserk said with a flirty wink, making you giggle. 

 The innuendo did not go over both Ivar and your heads. You smiled though, walking back towards the center of the tent. "I'm sure but I would hate to take that opportunity away from all the other women since I don't like to share."

 Ivar reached over and grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to him. The sweet smile lingered on your face but now directed at him softened some of his jealous anger. He cupped the side of your face, gazing down at you in something akin to reverence and longing. Silently, you placed your hands on his chest, staring up at him. He wondered if you caused his heart to beat or it beat for you. 

 "You fascinate me." He whispered, as if scared to utter the confession. 

 A sigh escaped you as you glanced downward at your hands on him. "If only we had met in another life."

 "Leave him. He doesn't deserve you. You deserve to be worshipped and recognized. Not treated as something to be shown off."

 "Perhaps one day." You lifted your eyes to meet his once more. "But I can't yet. An alliance relies on our marriage."

 He nodded, running his tongue along his bottom lip. It made sense. That would explain how you ended up married to the foolish warrior jarl. Lifting one of your hands from his chest, he pressed a lingering kiss to your knuckles, wishing it was your lips instead. Without another word, he started towards the entrance to your tent. His mind needed to process what it learned and how to best utilize that information for his plan. 

 Just before opening the flap, he turned back to you, surprised to see you still standing in the same spot but now rubbing your kissed knuckles across your bottom lip. Warmth and determination welled in his chest. 

 "Will you pray to the gods for our victory?"

 A smug smile curled the corners of your mouth. "I always do, but it is not necessary for who can defeat Ivar the Boneless?"

 He could not stop the grin from spreading across his face. "And do you pray for your husband's safety?"

 "That I leave to the gods."

 With one last heated look sent your way, he ducked out of the tent and back into the sunny camp.  

 "What now?" Hvitserk asked, walking beside him.

 "I need to talk with King Harald."

 "Ivar, you can't…. that’s…."

 He stopped to round on his brother, a scowl directed at him. "She deserves better than Jarl Haakon. Do you disagree?" He spat out, his wrath directed at your husband blazing once again. 

 Hvitserk sighed. "No, but…."

 "Then it's settled." Without waiting, he started in the direction of King Harald's tent. 

 Hvitserk rushed back to his side, falling into step. "So you'll pursue her after?"

 Ivar kept silent, mind already finalizing plans on how to best dispose of your husband. The battle coming up was the perfect opportunity, as if the timing was ordained and blessed by the gods. 

 "You won't be the only one. You're not the only man to watch her."

 Ivar sneered at the thought. "They will find themselves with my axe embedded in their guts if they even try."

 "So protective of her already and she is still another man's wife." 

 Ivar turned on his brother but Hvitserk just sidestepped the dagger aimed at his chest. 

 "If it's the gods' will for her to be your wife then I will help you." His older brother stated with his hands held up in surrender. "You know this. Besides I think you found your match with her."

 "She is…." The crippled prince started but his words trailed off. How could he adequately describe how you meant to him, how he longed for you, how he knew with you by his side he would be unstoppable and maybe for once in his life, actually happy. 

 "Is that Ivar the Boneless speechless? It must be love…. or the sun is getting to your head and you're going to be sick."

 "Shut up." Ivar snapped but without malice. 

 They walked for a few more minutes in silence before Hvitserk spoke up again. 

 "It will be pleasant to not hear his irritating voice anymore in meetings. We may be able to find an earl willing to just kill him for us."

 Ivar chuckled darkly. His thoughts returned to you and how he would willingly do anything to make you his wife. You were his Valkyrie, his goddess, you would complete him. Soon you would at his side, come death or Ragnarök, he would fight for you. 

[absolutepokemontrash]

The undatables as uncles need more love, so... What if L!MC and the rest of the children just go to the castle or purgatory Hall for a few days because the Bros got tired or just need a day of rest. Idk this makes no sense

Yes, more uncle shennaniganery!

A Day at the Demon Lord’s Castle

Masterlist

It was Demon-Flu season, and no demon in the House of Lamentation was spared from its sniffly wrath. It started with Belphegor waking up and sneezing right next to Beel, and it was all downhill from there.

Notice how I said “demon”, the dear little Half-Demons were all fine thanks to the efforts of M!MC who for some reason had bought a bunch of plague doctor masks the week prior.

“Why... why did you buy these?” L!MC asked, their voice muffled by the badly fitting mask.

“I saw em’ in a store window and I decided I wanted them.”

Three out of four of the Brat Brigade (plus the cat) were on their way to the Demon Lord’s castle to stay until the house’s little epidemic passed. Lord Diavolo had oh so graciously asked (begged) to be allowed to host the kids for a while.

What could go wrong?

Many things could go wrong.

For one, the first thing A!MC saw when they first arrived, was a rat. Not one of the gross scary ones, but one of the absolutely adorable ones that turns you into the ‘gently holds’ meme.

“I’m going to call you Templeton!” “*squeak*” “Yay!”

Barbatos of course came to greet the guests, and explained that they have a little... issue with rats at that moment. Butler-dad assured them it wouldn’t be a problem, just if the children saw any of the vermin running around to tell him and he’d dispose of them.

Templeton the rat was promptly hidden in one of A!MC’s pockets.

The Purgatory Hall crew was there as well, apparently Solomon decided to make brunch and Purgatory Hall’s kitchen exploded.

Lord Diavolo finally makes his entrance and declares that everyone should unpack and relax, his gorgeous/terrifying castle was their gorgeous/terrifying castle.

“So,” L!MC rested their head on their hand and rotated the knight in their free hand as they stared half vacantly at the chess board. “Did you take care of the snake in the labyrinth, Dia?”

Diavolo lit up when he heard his seldom used nickname. “Well, Henry 1.0 isn’t exactly bothering anyone down there at the moment, and I don’t think Levi is equipped to deal with a fifty foot long untamed snake.”

L!MC smirked and placed their knight down. “Yeah, at least not right now.”

The moment L!MC removed their hand from the knight, Diavolo moved his bishop and took their queen. Shit.

“Aw man...” L!MC mumbled, after a cursory look at the board, the poor thing realized that they had been screwed for the last five turns and Diavolo was just prolonging the match.

“Don’t feel too bad, L!MC.” Diavolo gave them a pat on the head. “Lucifer can’t beat me in chess either.”

“Hmph.” They wouldn’t admit it but... that did make them feel a little better.

“That reminds me, I have a favour to ask of you.” L!MC almost outwardly drooped at the mention of... ugh... a task. “Do you mind reviewing some dad-jokes with me to make sure they are suitably dad-like?”

“...what?” Quickly remembering they were in the presence of honest to God (poor choice of words... uh... Grandfather?) royalty, L!MC straightened their posture and tried their best to look respectfully curious instead of completely and utterly confused. “Pardon?”

“M!MC and several others have said I have ‘dad vibes’, so I’m leaning into it!” Diavolo smiled so brightly if L!MC hadn’t been the child of the Morning Star they may have been blinded. “My father wasn’t one for jokes, so I’d like to run these by you before I say them to others.”

Suppressing a snort of laughter, L!MC nodded. “Go for it, I’m all ears.”

Diavolo pulled out quite the long list and began to read out loud... L!MC quickly realized that this may take longer than expected. “Okay, to begin: I’m afraid for the calendar, it’s days are numbered.”

“Oh not-that-good-Lord...” L!MC muttered under their breath.

The dad jokes continued, some were funny, some were absolutely awful, some sounded like they were made for children in the Victorian era... overall, it was a good- holy shit that took over two hours...

“Finally,” Diavolo squinted at the last joke. “I went to the liquor store and they asked for my ID, while I fumbled for my wallet, my Blockbuster card fell out, the cashier said ‘nevermind’.”

L!MC furrowed their brows. “What’s a Blockbuster?”

“That was what I was hoping you’d explain to me... is it a dad requirement to get a card for that establishment..?”

“Mmmm...” L!MC pursed their lips. “Probably not. I mean, Lucifer doesn’t have one.”

“That’s true...” Diavolo looked at the clock, then stood up and began to shoo L!MC out the door. “Look at me, taking up all your time that you should be spending with your friends. Thank you for your help, L!MC, now don’t let me keep you any longer!”

Giggling slightly, L!MC shot a wave over their shoulder as they left the room. “Bye dad! See you later!”

They were half way down the hallway when they realized their verbal slip-up.

“Oh.” L!MC’s face burned with embarrassment. “Shit.”

Dad-volo was totally delighted and very cool about it, don’t worry.

M!MC and Bean the cat were hanging out with the angels in the very pretty royal gardens when that mess was going down.

Luke was being absolutely adorable and was snuggling Bean while he and Simeon looked at the pretty plants.

In traditional M!MC fashion, they were engaging in an average game of ���lightly tease the chihuahua’.

“It’s just... you’re so small.” M!MC took the opportunity to rest their arm on Luke’s head as he stopped to observe a colour changing flower bush. “How many years have you been this height? 100? 200?”

M!MC had taken the news that Luke was older than them in stride, finding new opportunities to make the little angel do his adorable angy face. They were obviously succeeding in their jerkwad-endeavours as Luke pushed their arm off and fixed his now smushed hat.

“You be quiet! I’m perfectly average height for an angel my age.” Luke huffed, petting the cat, who hissed at M!MC. The stupid cat absolutely hated them for some reason, it brought L!MC never ending joy to bring the cat into their shared room and watch it hiss and swipe at them. L!MC should really show some more respect for their older cousin!

“Are angels normally the size of a fifth grader?” M!MC snickered. “Is Simeon considered a freak for his height?”

“No, M!MC, I am not.” Simeon chuckled. “Rest assured, Luke will grow.”

“Yeah! And I’m sure I’ll be taller than you!” Luke added.

M!MC smirked deviously and pinched Luke’s cheek. “Well, I’ll have to take advantage of your smallness and baby face while I still can!”

“Hey! Stop that!” Luke tried to swat their hands away, but M!MC had inherited their father’s reflexes and his penchant for being a little shit every once and a while, so Luke’s swatting only resulted in more pinches.

“Never!” M!MC teased. “Surrender to your smallness!”

“No!”

Luke took off deeper into the garden, surprisingly quickly considering he was holding a cat that was hellbent on clawing M!MC’s eyes out. M!MC laughed and gave chase.

“Luuuuuuuke! Come back! I promise I’ll be nice!” M!MC lied right through their teeth like the little heathen they were, as they ran down the path they noticed that they couldn’t see Luke up ahead anymore, nor could they hear him yelling for Simeon to make them quit their teasing.

“Heheh...” M!MC wheezed as they stopped to catch their breath. “Luke c’mon, don’t be a baby. It’s real immature to hide like that!”

There was no response, which made M!MC just a little nervous, just a smidge. The plants had changed from pretty flowers and gorgeous trees to a much darker clump of vines and twisting branches. It all seemed to be the same plant, M!MC noted as they scanned the area for any sign of Luke and the cat, or Simeon for that matter.

“Luke? Bean? Come on! Haul your asses over here, this isn’t funny any-” M!MC paused and looked down as something coiled around their left leg. “-more?”

The vine tightened and yanked them backwards, M!MC fell right to the ground and clawed at the path to stop them getting pulled into the brush. Another vine wrapped around their right leg, any resistance that digging their nails into the ground was nullified as both vines yanked M!MC into the bushes.

Well, this was a nightmare of epic proportions. The vines continued to wrap around the helpless half demon until they were completely unable to move. As M!MC looked around frantically, they made eye contact with an all too familiar pair of blue eyes. Ah! There was Luke!

“Mmmph!” Only Luke’s eyes were visible, but the eyes are the gateway to the soul or whatever, and M!MC took an educated guess and decided that Luke’s soul wasn’t too happy with them.

“Mmth! Mmth!” M!MC tried to speak, but their mouth was covered by the vines. The two would have to communicate with their eyes only.

‘This is your fault!’

‘How the fuck is this MY fault?’

‘If you hadn’t teased me this never would have happened!’

‘Grow thicker skin, you chihuahua!’

‘Fuck you!’

Listen, Luke probably wasn’t capable of trying to communicate a swear word, but it was incredibly funny for M!MC to think about.

“M!MC? Luke?” Simeon stepped into their limited field of vision. “Where are you two? This plant is carnivorous.”

Oh... lovely. That was good to know.

“Mmemph!”

“MFTH!” Luke and M!MC tried to call out to Simeon, only for the vines to wrap around them even tighter. Wow, what a way to go... strangled by a plant... ugh. L!MC would never let them live that down...

“Hm,” Simeon looked down at the vine that was coiling around his leg. “What a bother.”

Quick as lightning, Simeon grabbed the vine and sent a burst of shining gold magic shooting through it. The magic quickly spread to the rest of the plant and the moment the magic slammed into M!MC they nearly passed out from the searing pain that shot through their entire body.

They clamped their eyes shut and clenched their teeth to stop them from rattling as they felt the massive wave of Celestial magic wash over them. It was weirdly warm, like a hug from a friend, but it wasn’t a pleasant sensation, at least not to M!MC.

The plant let out an otherworldly scream as it threw Luke, Bean, and M!MC back onto the path at Simeon’s feet.

Luke picked Bean back up and dusted off his clothes like he didn’t have a care in the world. M!MC lay on the ground, if you listened closely you could hear them sizzle a bit. Nothing like being nearly strangled by a plant and then roasted by holy ‘fuck you’ magic.

“I’m glad you’re both okay,” Simeon pulled Luke into a hug and helped M!MC off the ground. “Did I ah... use to much magic?”

M!MC half-scowled at their saviour and wiped down their outfit. “Yeah. A little too much.”

“My bad,” Simeon ruffled M!MC’s hair. “I hope this serves as a learning experience for you two, Luke, don’t run off like that, and M!MC,”

The half demon nearly jumped in fear and surprise as Simeon swivelled to look at them. The smile on his face was far from comforting. “Don’t tease poor Luke too much, okay?”

“Uh... uh huh.” M!MC quickly nodded.

“Good! Now let’s head back, I think we’ve all had enough of the Royal Gardens.”

As the group returned, they passed a very red in the face L!MC and wondered what exactly went down in the time they were gone.

It’s common knowledge that Barbatos hates rats, it’s also common knowledge that A!MC is the embodiment of a ray of sunshine.

What does this lead to, you may be asking, well...

A!MC and their dear rat Templeton needed to hide from the politely homicidal Barbatos.

“Sh!” A!MC whispered into their pocket, the rat responded with an indignant squeak.

The Demon Lord’s Castle was absolutely massive, and trying to navigate it without a map was akin to wandering around an ancient pyramid filled with death traps. A!MC and their dear companion were wandering the place without a map and trying to hide from a butler that had the power to see into the future. The two fugitives were at a clear disadvantage.

A!MC had managed to stumble into an area that had paintings and statues completely everywhere, it was then they realized they were completely lost.

While quietly perusing the room, A!MC took notice of quite the lovely portrait of a woman. She had long flowing locks of golden hair and the most gorgeous captivating eyes... A!MC nearly shrieked when the woman’s eyes snapped to their’s and her face contorted into a scowl.

“Do I know you?” The woman asked, A!MC gulped and shook their head.

“N-no ma’am, I don’t think we’ve met...” A!MC mumbled before sticking out their hand for a handshake. The painting woman stared down at their outstretched hand, very unimpressed. “I’m A!MC, it’s nice to meet you.”

The half demon offered their cutest smile, their dad had lovingly taken the time to coach them in the art of being so darn tootin’ adorable that everyone would fall over themselves to get A!MC to like them. The moment the woman registered the smile, her scowl returned for a brief moment, then vanished entirely.

“Oh,” The woman smiled sweetly. “I do think I know you, do you mind coming a bit closer so I can see you better?”

Suffering from a complete inability to detect red flags, A!MC happily moved closer.

“Ah, just as I suspected. You look like Asmodeus.”

“You know my dad?” A!MC asked.

“Yes,” The woman’s eyes narrowed. “I know him quite well.”

A!MC was suddenly knocked off balance as a massive gust of wind shoved them closer to the painting. They frantically clawed at the stone ground as Templeton squeaked and squirmed in their pocket.

“Your father is the reason I’m stuck in this painting,” The woman explained coldly as A!MC tried to scramble away. “He escaped the labyrinth twice, but I don’t plan on letting you escape.”

“I-uh- m-muh-my dad’s probably really sorry about whatever he did! There’s no need to be rash!” A!MC stuttered.

“Yeah, no.” The woman huffed. “He had his chance to fix things. I’m getting even.”

“Not right now you’re not.”

A!MC swivelled their head around to see Barbatos calmly holding out a pair of scissors.

“Now Helene, I’d recommend releasing the child before I’m forced to take drastic measures.” Barbatos clicked the scissors together twice, and Helene paled. The wind pushing A!MC towards the painting dissipated and the half demon ran and hid behind the butler.

“Th-thank you...” A!MC mumbled.

“It’s not a problem, A!MC. Now I believe it would be a wise choice to move to another room.”

The two, (plus the hidden rat) ended up in the kitchen. A!MC shifted nervously as Barbatos began prepping lunch.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” Barbatos asked suddenly, A!MC straightened their posture and nodded.

“I um... promise you won’t be mad...” A!MC mumbled.

“I can assure you, I won’t be too upset.”

“I made a friend.” A!MC took Templeton out of their pocket and held him closely to their chest, Barbatos’s calm smile froze on his face. “He���s really sweet, please don’t kill him!”

“...A!MC.” Barbatos began slowly. “I’m not mad... just make sure it doesn’t escape and run rampant... now... please get it out of my kitchen.”

“Yes sir! Thank you sir!” A!MC turned and sprinted to their room.

Ugh... Barbatos, haven’t you ever watched Ratatouille? The rat can cook dammit!

When Luke went in to bake with his second dad he was very confused as to why Barbatos looked like he was having war flashbacks.

Huh... weird right? Anyway...

Good ol’ weird uncle Solomon suggested that after dinner everyone should get together and watch a movie.

L!MC and Solomon suggested that they watch The Conjuring and that idea got immediately shot down.

M!MC brought up that the most “family get-together” movie they could think of was Star Wars.

So they watched A New Hope.

“We could be watching the Conjuring right now.” L!MC murmured as they watched Luke Skywalker fumble his way to Obi Wan Kenobi.

“Yeah.” Solomon whispered back. “You know, I met Ed and Lorraine Warren.”

“Cool,” L!MC smiled. “My ren took me to their house once, when I went in to see all the haunted objects all the demons inside wanted to hang out with me.”

“Huh,” Solomon snickered. “Did they think you were Lucifer?”

“Yep. It was funny, Annabelle’s a pretty big asshole though.”

“I’d be an asshole too if I were stuck in a raggedy Anne doll since the 60s and not allowed to leave.”

“Both of you sh!” M!MC hissed, they threw some popcorn over their shoulder, which L!MC threw right back.

A while into the movie, M!MC elbowed Solomon and pointed at one of the aliens. “That’s you.”

“I’m so hurt…” Solomon pouted.

“And that’s you.” L!MC pointed at a stormtrooper that had just gotten shot with a blaster. M!MC scoffed and rolled their eyes.

“I’m not some dumb stormtrooper.”

“Yeah, you’re a little short for a stormtrooper.”

“HEY!”

“SHHHHHHH!” A!MC and Luke turned and started throwing their own popcorn…

The mess that they all had to vacuum after the movie was much more terrifying than The Conjuring ever could have been.

So, after a few days, Lucifer called to say that everyone was back to normal and the last remnants of the Demon-Flu were gone.

Yay! The kids could go back to their really overcrowded house!

The goodbyes were something to behold.

“Goodbye everyone! Come back sometime soon!” Diavolo waved from the doorway.

“Bye, Lord Diavolo!” L!MC smiled brightly and returned the wave. M!MC snickered and nudged them.

“That’s a pretty cold way to say goodbye to your dad-”

“Shut up…” L!MC growled.

“L!MC, what are they talking about?” Lucifer asked.

“Nothing!”

M!MC looked like they were weighing the pros and cons of surviving the conversation, then shrugged.

“M!MC, no, you have so much to live for!” A!MC pleaded.

“L!MC called Lord Diavolo dad!”

Mammon erupted into hysterical laughter while Asmo giggled and half heartedly patted L!MC on the head. Lucifer was not impressed.

“You know,” L!MC sighed. “I’m moving out. Lord Diavolo can I come live here?”

“L!MC, come back.” Lucifer trailed after his very embarrassed spawn.

A!MC pulled on their dad’s sleeve and cleared their throat.

“Yes sweetie?”

“D-dad, do you have a vehement hatred and or fear of rats?”

“Um-”

“Meet Templeton, he’s adorable and my friend.”

————————

Author’s note, The next part of the main series is coming next week… or this week… idk how long things take.

(Probably this week)

[pieces-by-me]

Golden Eyes

Words: 2627

Summary: There aren’t only rats in the tunnels under York. A big surprise for Ivar that takes his breath away.

Warnings: mentions of blood, death, imprisonment. English is not my first language and first time writing for Vikings.

@maggiescarborough​ - thank you again for the help with this!! I hope you like it and still want to read it (Even though it took me four months to write this)

Ever since Eadrick and Hilda found out she was with child they knew that it would be special. They knew because the pregnancy felt different. Hilda didn't have sickness in the morning and her emotions stayed the same all throughout the months. When they went to the healer of their small village he told them that it was a curse from the Devil. For no women had ever a pregnancy like it, it was unnatural. Eadrick couldn't understand why the healer had the idea that his child could be a curse. How could it be? They tried for so long and never were blessed with one and now that it finally happened they had to hear that it was the Devils work? Hilda had tears running down her face as she stood tall and declared that the healer should feel ashamed. “My child is not made by the Devil but blessed by God!” The healer sneered after them as they exited the small cottage.

Months passed by and the happy pair couldn't wait to see their little boy or girl.They didn't care what the child would be as long as it was healthy. But with the time fleeting and the stomach growing the looks from the people of the village would grow as well and become more and more evil. Word had got out that Hilda supposedly carried the Devils child and with every day that passed Eadrick became more worried for his wife. He knew that he had to protect her and his child, so he did everything to build them a little home in the middle of the forrest surrounding the village.

When Hilda went into labor Eadrick feared for his beloved. The healer refused to help birth 'a cursed child' and they were alone in their small home. Only a fire to help and warm them in the cold winter month. The birth went so fast it was as if it never really happened. And the strangest thing was that Hilda felt not one bit of pain. She was smiling when she pushed and then her child came into the world. Hilda birthed a little girl and Eadrick couldn't help but look at his family with love and adoration. He swore to God that he would do anything, even sin, to protect his family.

She didn't scream when she came into this world. Her big eyes were just looking, searching, for her mother and father. And as soon as her little eyes met the tear filled ones of her father she let out a little laugh that made both her parents cry for joy. Her eyes had the color of light. An almost golden hue that could not be discribed. She was not a curse. She was a blessing. They decided to name her (Y/N). The little girl with sunshine in her eyes.

_______________________________________________________________________

Ivar wobbled through the streets of York with eyes in search for any small thing he could have missed. He had to make sure that everything was in order and that nothing would go wrong. The smoke from the burned up rats and rotten meat made it hard to examine the traps but he managed. More annoying was the smell. He had to swallow back his already eaten food to not vomit all over the street at some points. That would not be a good look for the ruler of the Heathen Army. But that also was something he managed. Ivar sent Hvitserk away to survey the catacombs under York after his big brother questioned his plan. Idiot. As if he didn't build everything in his head to a point and thought about how everything could turn out. Of course he had a plan. A plan that would soon be taken into action, for as the Saxons were on their way to take back York. With an almost malicious smile Ivar made his last round around the outer ring of the city. Oh yes, the Saxons would come soon and think that death took all the heathens away. But they would be met with nothing but death for themselves.

Hvitserk cursed his younger brother. He knew very well that Ivar was not an idiot and had a plan. He just wanted to be included. Not be left out and always chasing answers and responsibility. Not unlike with Ubbe. But now he kind of wished that his brother would have given him another order. And not running around the dirt and rat infested tunnels that stretched out under this Christian city. He didn't really know for what he, and the other worriers that went down with him, should be looking for, but he guessed that if he found something suspicious or wrong he would see and know.

After walking through the foul-smelling tunnels for hours, Hvitserk was about to call it quits and wanted to go back up the ladder when he caught something in the corner of his eye. It was a door. A rotten door with huge metal bolts that looked like it would bust with one small push and fall out of its hinges. He walked closer to it, intrigued to find something after hours of nothing. The wood on the door felt rough to his touch making him think that it was not used often. When he tried to open it though it wouldn't give. It stayed shut and only then did he see the whole for a key.

'You're not the first thing that wanted to stay untouched but I always got my way.' He thought with a mischievous smirk as he thought about some of his past conquests. When he slammed his body for the third time against the door, with running start, and it's still not budging he grew irritated. The wood definitely being more robust then it appeared. What the hel was behind this door that needed to be so protected? After one last push something in that room moved. Hvitserk could hear it. Almost like a hound. Whimpering and shuffling as if to get away. Why would the Saxon leave an animal locked in these dark tunnels?

His thoughts were broken up by the sound of running feet and people flooding the tunnels. The time has come. The Saxons were here. With one last glance to the door Hvitserk made his way back to the entrance where he was supposed to meet up with Ivar. As he rounded the corner he saw how his little brother was being hoisted down and someone was already waiting with his crutch on the ground.

_______________________________________________________________________

The Saxons entered the city. Empty of all beings except the rats that crawled over the muddy grounds. Why were the rats on the ground? The Bishop looked at the small rodents with uncertainty. It was not common for rats to run this free around people. Soon the cheers of the soldiers were washing his worry to the back of his head. Bells were ringing and people celebrating; they have defeated the Vikings.

But while the rats ran free on the ground the tunnels swarmed with Viking warriors lusting for blood. Ivar did it again. He came up with a plan that fooled his opponent and would guarantee his success. He looked up through the manhole to the feet of soldiers walking over him unbeknown to the threat underneath their them.

Hvitserk arrived and made his way over to his little brother. The two Ragnarsons met eyes and in both radiated the intend and want to kill and mark the streets of York with the blood of the Christians. In the back of Hvitserks head the thought of the mysterious door and animal surfaced for a split second, he would go back there and try to open it when the battle is won. With a little shake of his head to get back to now he heard the Saxons cheer for their victory.

Ivar and Hvitserk met eyes again, both smiling like two mad men. Anticipation running through their veins at the thought of finally running their sword and axes through bodies and bones. And with a small turn from his body Ivar watched his warriors, everyone at the soles of their feet to start, threw is right hand in the air and ladders were pulled up. Everyone had to be silent.

As the first men stepped through the opening, Ivar and Hvitserk letting out roars of battle, the Saxons had to realize that they made a huge mistake.

Cheers turned to screams of shock and the streets turned red with blood and gore.

The Heathens were not dead but they brought it with them.

_______________________________________________________________________

The battle was done. The bishop in chains and Ivar was basking in his win. Heahmund thought he was looking in the eyes of the devil when he saw the crawling figure coming closer and closer to him. Chuckling like a demon. While he relished in the humiliation of the Christian, his brother was distracted by something else. In the back of the church were two dogs that fought over a bone, it seams that ever creature was fighting on this day. But the display and sounds brought back a memory to Hvitserks mind. The animal in the tunnels.

He went out of the building without a word in search of a bigger ax. His brother not even realizing he left. When Hvitserk made his way back into the tunnels he had a harder time finding the mysterious door again. The shine of the torch not being light enough for him to see everything. With his luck we would get lost. But the gods were on his side and after he ran into a dead end for the fifth time he found it. 'You're done'

His shoulder hurt after the battle. One Saxon having brought their sword down further then Hvitserk could reflect with his. The dried up blood was still on his clothes. It seamed to open up again as warm liquid trailed down his arm in small droplets. But he didn't care. He needed to know what exactly was behind this stupidly, hard to open door. With a final blow of the ax the wood splintered away and gave sight into the room.

It was dark and the smell of sick and rotten flesh made its way into his nose. It was worse then when they burned flesh for the plan. Even with his torch he couldn't see inside so he made his way back a little and began to bring the ax back to the hole he created. More and more wood split away and after only four more hits he could fit through. Of course it was probably not the best idea to go blindly into a locked room but his curiosity won over common sense.

At first he didn't see anything. No animal running towards him. No treasure or anything being stored in this room. All his eyes were met was stone walls that were covered with vines and mold, water running down in small streams down the sides and puddles of old and dried up blood littering the floor. This was not a room for save keeping. No this looked like a cell if he ever seen one. He turned around and was about to climb back through the door when a sound made his body freeze.

It was the same thing. The small whining of a broken animal. Barley there but in the silent room it appeared to echo from everywhere. He turned around and really searched every corner and halted when his eyes came on a small bundle of brown fabric. Fabric that moved in a feeble attempted to get away from the viking. He took a step closer, cautious as to not scare it even more. He didn't even know what lied before him until two golden eyes looked back at him with so much despair he faltered in his step.

It was a girl. A small, sickly Saxon girl that, by the looks of it, was trapped in this cell for only the gods knew how long. She trembled and flinched and even though he didn't move closer she tried to get away even more. But her body seemed to gave up on her. All throughout her weak attempted to escape the threat they held eye contact until the gold vanished and she collapsed on the ground.

'What in the name of Odin?'

Hvitserk ran up to the girl and up on a closer look saw that her hands and feet were shackled to the walls. Her wrist scraped raw and red. Ankles crusted over with old blood.

Unbeknown to Hvitserk the closer he got to the girl the less his shoulder bled and hurt. But with the situation a little bit more severe he just simply couldn't focus on it. He blamed it on his new discovery and excitement and moved on. With his ax he had little effort with the chains that weighted more then the girl herself, picked her up over his shoulder and made his way back to the church. He couldn't wait for his brothers reaction of his find.

Ivar was getting impatient. Sitting on the table at end of the hall he wondered where his brother was. A small feast was being held to celebrate the defeat of the Christians. He wanted to talk to him about the bishop and then rub it in his face a little that his plan worked. The rumble of conversations died down a little with the sound of opening doors and people made room for whoever entered the hall. By now Ivar could see that ,finally, his brother came. But what he nor anyone expected was the sleeping girl in his arms. What was going on?

With each step from his brother Ivar felt something change inside his body. He couldn't put it into words but there was a force spreading from his chest to his legs. Hvitserk went to the middle of the room and laid the girl on the floor right to his feet. Ivar's eyes widened, breath stuck inside his lungs. Could it be? He didn't feel like this since he was just a little boy. He only remembered that once he had felt it because his beloved mother told him. With a start so abrupt he made everyone in the room look at him he lowered his body to the ground.

Hvitserk looked at his little brother who crawled over the unconscious Saxon girl. Faster then he ever crawled. As if she was the only thing that would keep him alive, that she was the last drop of water for a dying man. His whole body covered hers and he was only breaths away from her. The look on his face was a fuse of shock, astounding, revelation and skepticism. But also, if you were close enough, fear. He looked as if the biggest treasure lay under him. The other vikings in the room stopped at what they were doing and observed what their leader would do. No one said a word. There wasn't even the sound of a single breath. Ivar's eyes didn't even blink as he slowly graced her face with his bloodied hand. Leaving a small trail of blood on her cold face. Who was this girl?

“Ivar, what it is? What are you doing?”

Ivar could only vaguely hear his big brothers words. But they came through the haze he was trapped in and with a small voice, so quiet Hvitserk had to lean closer to the two bodies lying on the ground to even hear him, he said:

“I don't feel any pain in my legs.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading and let me know what you think about this. I have an idea for a little series with this. 

Hope everyone has an awesome day!

[mediocre--writing]

Hello again from the anon who sent the first ask about childhood friends Billy crushing on Steve and venting to his mother. You wrote it amazingly, by the way. I would love to see Steve chasing after Billy in the next part, rather than the other way around. Maybe he doesn’t understand why Billy’s been distant and he misses him. I’m not sure if the timeline is accurate but it could be around the time Steve suspects her of having something with Jonathan so he feels very alone and sad and misses his best friend and Billy wants to cry all over again.

part 1 2

billy wakes up the next morning with the weight of his worries pressing into his chest. in comparison, the weight of his secret has been carefully lifted off his shoulders by his mother and was being kept and cradled with the upmost care.

he was left with a list of chores sitting on the dining table and another note reminding him to pick up his extra work from the school.

before even looking a the list of chores, billy did the bare minimum to make himself look ready enough for the day and made his way to the school.

getting his assignments for his last four periods was easy, they were sitting with the receptionist in a little red folder, but his first period, mrs. kelman, hadn’t given hers in yet.

the secretary, being the lazy ass she is, just waved billy through to go to her room and grab the assignments.

her room, of course, was one of the farthest points from the front entrance of the school, so billy power walked most of the way there, wanting to get out of there before he saw someone—a specific someone—and they started asking questions.

knocking on the door once he’d reached it, mrs. kelman came to answer it, muttering something about him being a heathen and a pain in her ass, but billy didn’t care.

because how could he be so dumb? really, you’re friends with a guy your entire life and forget you share the same first period? and you couldn’t wait another thirty minutes to get your assignments?

god, billy wants to shove his finger in the pencil sharpener.

“you’ve got a book?”

billy is staring out the windows of the back of the classroom when he hears mrs. kelman clear her throat, “do you have your book at home?”

with a small cough, billy assures her his copy of the book is at his house. she proceeds to explain the worksheets in detail while handing him, not one, not two, not three, but four packets of work pages he needs to complete ‘by tuesday, if not, i don’t care what you did do, it’s all a zero.’ psycho bitch.

billy, red folder and packets in hand, practically struts out of the classroom before she can come up with any more work to give him.

he’s not yet half way down the hallway when he hears shoes squeaking behind him, his name being called in a voice he really wants to ignore.

“billy, dude, you didn’t answer my calls last night,”

“went to bed early,” billy responded, not caring to turn around or stop walking. nevertheless, steve caught up to him, rushing to block billy’s path.

“well then, talk to me now, what happened yesterday? you haven’t been the same recently, i’m worried,” steve practically begs billy as they finally stop in the hallway.

“i have chores and about fifty pages of work i need to get started on, steve, so if you don’t mind...” billy stepped to walk away but steve grabbed his elbow.

billy’s packets and papers went down to the floor. “ok, i’m sorry about that, but why won’t you talk to me? and what’s with full naming me? you never call me ‘steve!’”

billy bent down to grab at the papers and shove them into his red folder, cradling them in his arms, “well, steve, sometimes people change and you may never know why. maybe they don’t fit in your life the way you thought they did, maybe you finally see the things the way you probably should have seen them all along,” billy scoffed, “have fun at the party tonight, steve,”

as billy walked off, steve felt sick to his stomach. billy was sarcastic and dry most of the time, but never to steve. with steve, there was never the underlying tone of annoyance there was at school and billy never rushed to get away from anyone, at least not this desperately.

steve was off for the rest of the day. it was hard not to notice the constant fidgeting and how he’d stare off into space in gym, the only class he really liked or actively participated in.

by the end of the day, his fifth period (a class he shared with nancy) steve was completely shut down.

wasn’t listening to the teacher or responding to either nancy or tommy’s attempts at getting his attention. he was just thinking about billy. about what he said. how he said it.

that emphasis on how people ‘don’t fit in your life’ and how angry billy was while saying it. how honest the words sounded coming out of his mouth, like he spoke with his entire chest and wanted steve to hear every single word for what it was.

but steve was never good at dissecting literature and hidden meanings, all he knew was what’s at face value.

and billy’s speech at face value was just a message that billy no longer wanted steve in his life. that he had moved on to bigger, better things.

but this, this felt like something his english teacher would scold him for not seeing the depth to.

and steve worried. worried his way through the rest of the day and into the next. worried all through the friday night party and the weekend. worried the monday billy was still suspended.

worried the entire week while billy was back. while billy still wasn’t talking to him or acknowledging him or even fucking looking at him.

steve had thrown himself into nancy that week, been driving her to school and home every day and had taken her on a date twice on school nights.

both times, without realizing, they’d ended up at the diner billy’s mom worked, the one billy would bus tables for in his free time to make a little extra money.

the first day, a tuesday, they’d been served by the diner lady herself, and steve had chatted like they were old friends.

neither mentioned billy, who was clearly seen in the window to the kitchen cleaning dishes.

the second day, a thursday, steve and nancy had come after the movies to get milkshakes. steve got vanilla and nancy got strawberry.

they didn’t see either billy nor his mom that day.

billy was working, though, steve knew because his unmistakable car was parked in its usual spot to the left corner of the building.

steve searched his entire brain, something he’d never done before, to figure out what billy meant.

he wanted to ask someone who knew more about literature than any teacher he’d ever had, but billy was the person he couldn’t ask for help this time.

steve never realized how much he depended on billy for everything. and he means everything.

date ideas for nancy. billy had the best spots.

how to keep nancy smiling. billy had the best pickup lines and corny jokes to make people smile.

keeping steve from not failing his classes. billy was the only person capable of getting through steve’s thick skull.

girl problems and regular teenage angst. billy always knew what people were feeling and how to react.

steve was so dependent on billy and he was absolutely crumbling without him there.

and nancy was frustrated. steve kept spacing out and ignoring her during dates. he wasn’t as charming as before and he was clingier than usual.

‘an absolute nuisance and is acting so desperate’ were her exact words.

this is what she told jonathan byers one night while they sat with their brothers and their friends at the diner after a long afternoon at the arcade.

this is what billy heard while busing tables behind them, unnoticed, before he opened his big mouth.

“done with that?” billy asked with a sickly sweet smile while pointing down at nancy’s empty milkshake glass.

as she made eye contact, her face burned bright red while she tried to control her facial features, “refill?” was the only thing she could squeak out.

billy kept the smile plastered on his face, “‘course!”

he made sure to spit in her stupid strawberry milkshake before he brought it to her.

“do that again and you won’t be working here anymore, boy,” the owner of the diner—benny—whispered to billy while holding onto his upper arm as he walked away from their table.

“yes, sir,” billy said, fake apologetically, because he grinned while walking back to the kitchen.

damn all the money in the world, nancy wheeler was a bitch and deserved her spit-shake.

billy had come to peace with the fact that steve was straight and in love with nancy.

really, steve couldn’t control who he liked.

ok so he was bitter as hell, but it didn’t stop him from being a decent person.

steve, on the other hand, was in the midst of a gay panic—not that he knew what that was. all steve knew was that he missed his billy—

wait when did ‘billy’ become ‘steve’s billy?’

and since when did steve think about billy more than he thought about his girlfriend? especially while he was alone in his house, laying on his bed.

he should be thinking about his girlfriend. his pretty, sweet, incredibly smart, charming, beautiful, blue-eyed—wait! not billy! think about your girlfriend, dumbass, not your best friend!

steve didn’t sleep that night. he stayed up thinking about billy.

about how it had been almost two weeks since he last hung out with billy and over a month since they’d last talked, like actually had a conversation. about how he didn’t even know what his girlfriend was doing this week, even though he knew she told him.

about how he needs to talk to billy.

he needs to figure out why he’s obsolete in billy’s life now. about why they drifted so quick it’s like something shoved a knife between their friendship.

and so, on that sunday morning, while most of hawkins would be out for church, steve drove over to billy’s house, knocking on the door of people who didn’t wake until noon most sundays.

“oh my god,” steve groaned to himself, knocking harder, “open your fucking door, people,”

the door swung open so fast it scared steve a little, almost knocking on a person—billy’s mom.

“hi,” steve gave an innocent smile, though he was met with a grumpy glare.

“why?” she asked desperately, “you know not to come before 12, 10 if it’s an emergency. it’s sunday, the day of rest, and here i am, not resting,”

“i need to talk to billy,”

“yeah,” she nodded, “see, he’s aware that it’s the day of rest, so he’s still sleeping,”

“i don’t care,” steve was stubborn.

she shrugged, “he punches you it’s not my problem. i’ll be resting so scream really loud if he kills you, the neighbors should hear and they’ll call someone for ‘ya,”

she winked at steve as she made her way back to her room, hoping to god that they’d either make up or make out, and she knew she probably wasn’t sleeping anytime soon. these were her boys she was thinking about, after all.

steve walked quick to billy’s door, turning the knob and moving to billy’s bed, sitting on the edge with his hands in his lap.

“i know you heard me knocking,”

“shhh...”

“billy,” steve groaned as he shifted to look at billy ‘sleeping.’

“he’s asleep. call again later,”

“you are your mother’s child,” steve snapped jokingly.

“well then she’s a smart lady. go away, steve,” billy pulled his pillow over his head.

“no,”

“—mmk,”

“talk to me, billy!”

“no,”

“why not?”

“he’s sleeping,”

“jesus christ!” steve stood up, pulling the pillow off of billy’s head and hitting him with it repeatedly. “get up and talk to me you brat!”

billy sat up after the second hit, but steve just kept going.

“what is wrong with you!?” billy put his hands over his head, pushing the covers off himself.

“me? what’s wrong with me!?” steve dropped the pillow to his side as he made crazy eyes at billy, “you’ve been ignoring me for the past, like, month!”

“no i have not!” billy pointed his finger at steve as a teacher would a student. “you have been the one attached at the fuckin hip with wheeler, so don’t you say that i’m the issue here!”

“i talked to you all the time!”

“about her!” billy stood so he could look steve in the eyes properly. “i don’t give a shit about her, steve! i really, really do not care about her in any way besides whatever concerns you! so i’m so sorry that i’m not very attentive on your hour long rants about how ‘nice and soft her hair is,’”

“don’t mock me!” steve exclaimed, insulted by billy’s bad impression of him.

“she’s a bitch!” billy yelled.

“don’t call her a bitch!”

“ok.” billy shrugged, “she’s a prissy bitch,”

“go fuck yourself,” steve complained, throwing his head back in annoyance.

“no!” billy yelled, taking a step foreward. “she talks about you behind your back. to byers. says you’re desperate and a nuisance. is that the same girl you’re so in love with, steve? huh!?”

steve’s face fell a little at the accusation and his eyes darted around billy’s room.

“liar,”

“when have i ever lied to you?”

steve was quiet.

billy, in a softer voice, “i’m not lying. i just don’t want you to be all in love and her not feel the same way, you’re not good together,”

steve had shuffled around to sit at billy’s desk. “wow thanks,”

“i’m serious,” billy’s face was kinder, not as harsh, “she’s already all grown up, and you’re not. it’s a good thing, steve. you’re happy and carefree and want to... go skydiving and she just wants to... play mahjong at the retirement home,”

steve cracked a smile but it fell just as quick, “she really said all that?”

“i spit in her milkshake and she drank the whole thing,” billy admitted, leaning against the desk next to steve’s legs.

steve smiled, “‘course you did,”

they sat quietly for a minute, taking in billy’s words and the consequences of them.

“i’ve been really worried about you,” steve admitted. “you ignored me for a week then got into a big fight, which you haven’t done since that one boy made fun of me freshman year, and then you didn’t even act like i was around. thought you hated me after what happened in the hall,”

“don’t hate you,” billy leaned closer to steve, knocking their shoulders together, “could never hate you. just... frustrated, i guess?”

“cause of nancy?”

billy shrugged, “yea—“

steve turned to look at him better, “something else, though,” he stared at billy for quite some time, “your dad didn’t call—“

“no!” billy shut down the idea, “no, it’s not him. he’s lone gone now,”

“then what?”

“it’s no—“

“it’s something,” steve insisted.

for as awful as steve was on his own, all alone with nancy or in school, for as bad as he was at reading people, billy was an open book to him. he knew every tell he had and could almost read his mind.

“no,”

“yes,” steve was stern.

“no, steve,”

“talk to me,” steve almost begged.

“no,”

“why do i love you?” steve whispered quietly to himself, making billy’s head shoot up before he remembered that he and steve had been saying ‘i love you’ since two weeks after they met.

“steve, you don’t need to worry about—“

“you?” steve guessed. “i don’t need to worry about you? how is that right when all you do is worry about me?”

“i don’t—“

“you do!” steve had a fire in his heart now, “even when you’re upset with me you’re still a good friend. you still look out for me and spit in my awful girlfriends milkshake while she talks crap about me!

“i don’t get why you do it, billy, because i don’t return it and i didn’t even realize until now!”

“you don’t have to,”

“but i should!” steve was pacing in the middle of billy’s bedroom, “i am the worst to you and you just don’t do anything about it! i love you. i love you so much but i’m such an ass to you and i can’t even—“

“i love you too, steve, we’re there for each other. always have been—“

“no,” steve’s eyebrows went up and he steadied his shaking hands. as he realized it for the first time, steve spoke, “no, i love you, billy,”

billy was frozen.

didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t dare even blink.

it was a dream, it had to be.

“i love you and i want to care about you more than i do. i’m a shitty person as is, but, i want to be there for you like you always have for me,”

“i love you, too,”

“why are you crying?” steve’s eyes widened as he saw the tear tracks down billy’s face, rushing over to wipe them away.

“‘m happy. they’re happy tears,” billy sniffled as he looked up at steve, “promise,”

and they kissed.

steve didn’t even think about nancy. billy didn’t think about the shadow under his door that was most definitely his mom listening in.

they ignored the way it was a really bad kiss, especially for two boys with such reputations that they have, but enjoyed it nonetheless.

billy enjoyed the way steve’s hands pushed his messy curls away from his face and steve enjoyed billy’s hands rubbing his lower back.

they didn’t have to think beyond that moment, didn’t have to worry about a single thing.

their only plans past that moment were for steve to break it off with nancy, then they’d go get chocolate milkshakes and eat cherry pie at the diner.

[hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong]

The Century War of Wyverns: Prologue

God, it's been a while since we actually did longer writing on this blog, huh? Yeah, we're finally back, going through the old singularities. Don't expect much different in this part, since it's before we even get to France, but we hope you'll enjoy it anyway.

We'll have to set right what once went wrong, but first, things have to go pretty freaking wrong for it to count as a singularity. How wrong, you may ask? Let's find out!

Also, CWs: Religious Themes, Blood, Death

(The next part is here)

Footsteps rang down the corridor, the clatter of metal on stone. A grim young woman, dressed in chains and blackened armor, strode towards the central chamber of the castle. A spear was thrown casually over her shoulder. The screams had long since died down, but the metallic stench of blood still permeated the building. A fitting place for the beginning of the end, she supposed.

She entered the ritual room and was greeted by a scrawny man cloaked in dark robes. She sneered at him as he gave a report on the ritual. The sycophant was infuriating, but useful.

For now though, the ritual was ready: she had more important things to worry about. The man led her to the appropriate spot in the twisted mass of sigils and equations marked upon the floor. He then moved to his own position and began chanting. The woman invoked the incantation, as practiced.

“Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny. If you heed the Grail’s call, and obey my will and reason, then answer me.”

A bright white light seeped out of the golden chalice in the center of the magic circle, tracing the lines drawn on the ground. As the light grew more intense, a wind picked up, pushing everything in the room away from its center. Everything but the cup and the woman.

“I hereby swear. That I shall defeat all evil in the world. But let thine eyes be clouded with the fog of turmoil and chaos. Thou art trapped in a cage of madness, and I the summoner who holds thy chains.”

The light suddenly shifted to crimson red, and the wind picked up speed. The woman had to shout the final lines of incantation to be heard over the gale.

“Seventh heaven clad in the great words of power! Come forth from the circle of binding, Guardian of the Scales!”

The tangle of light coalesced into seven points, fading into seven human figures. She addressed each of them in turn.

“Berserk Saber,” A young woman dressed in a pastel suit with a flowing white cape. She brandished a fencing rapier, giving it a few experimental swings.

“Berserk Archer,” Another woman, dressed in green. Her ears and tail twitched with discomfort as she glared at the rest of the assembly. Her longbow scraped the paneling of the floor beneath her feet.

“Berserk Lancer,” A pale man dressed in rich furs. He let a silver spear rest upon the ground as he looked around him, unimpressed.

“Berserk Rider,” A purple haired woman dressed in a veil and chainmail. She fidgeted with her staff as the black armored woman turned to her, struggling with herself.

“Berserk Caster,” A slight man in a black suit. He would be rather handsome, if not for the mask covering half his face.

“Berserk Assassin,” An older woman, wearing a mask and a fine red dress. She was surrounded by chains and spiked metal. She could barely contain herself at the sight of Saber, Archer, and Rider.

“And True Berserker.” A white-haired man in executioner’s garb. He polished his sword at a feverish pace.

“Thank you for coming, my fellow servants. I am your master. You know why you were summoned, yes?”

She looked around at the assembly.

“Destruction and slaughter, those are your orders. If a city is reveling in spring, destroy it. If a town is celebrating the new year, devastate it. No matter how evil or cruel, God will forgive your every transgression. Should He mete out punishment, that is fine in its own way. For this is no more than a means of proving God’s existence and His love.”

“Now, Gilles, bring him here.”

The man in black robes -Gilles- bowed. “Of course, my saint!” He ran out of the room. He returned shortly with another old man in tow, this one wearing extravagant white and red robes.

Gilles giggled as he pulled the man forward. “What do you wish done with this one, my saint? If I may be so bold, I do have a few suggestions.”

The woman in black sighed. “Please, Gilles, you’re ruining the moment.” With the source of her aggravation silenced, she took a split second to compose herself.

“Bishop Pierre Cauchon!” The woman in black armor greeted the new arrival. “It’s only been three days, but I can promise you not a second went by where I did not think of you! How has France been in my absence?”

The man simply stood there, wide-eyed and slicked in a sheen of sweat. He gave a few stutters, but coherence simply refused to leave his mouth.

Undeterred, the woman in black continued to taunt him. “Ah non, your excellency! This simply won’t do! Are you telling me you have already forgotten the face of Jeanne d’Arc?”

The bishop’s voice finally found him, and he screamed, “No, that’s impossible, she’s dead! This- This can’t be happening! It has to be a dream….”

Jeanne’s face fell. “Gilles, please make sure our guest doesn’t leave reality entirely, would you?”

Gilles brought his hand up to the bishop’s face. His sleeve fell away, revealing a twisted piece of metal wrapped around his wrist. He brushed it against the bishop’s face, leaving scratches that quickly began to bleed. The old man certainly didn’t calm down, but the feeling of his own blood dripping into his hands forced him to face the reality of the situation.

Jeanne smiled as the bishop’s situation sank into his expression. “Now that you are back with us, your excellency, it is time for your test. Here you stand at the gates of hell,” she gestured to the servants encircling them, “surrounded by demons, no less! Fortunately for you, I am nothing if not a devout follower of His word, so I offer you this one chance: pray to Him. For if He is to stay our hand, if He has judged this France worthy of existence, He must do so now.”

The bishop immediately fell to his knees, letting out wracking sobs. “P-please…”

“Hmm?” Jeanne d’Arc eyed him expectantly.

“Please, spare me!” He cried as he crawled towards Jeanne, snot-nosed and openly weeping. “Please! I’ll do whatever it is you wish; I beg of you! Please!”

Jeanne d’Arc kicked him away. He landed heavily a few feet back, still sobbing. “So, you pray to Jeanne d’Arc before you pray to God? Unfortunately for you, I am not a merciful god, nor do I accept indulgences. You beg for the aid of a heathen, and that makes you a heathen as well.”

A sickening smile crawled its way across Jeanne’s lips. “And you know very well the punishment for such a crime, don’t you?”

Somehow, the bishop’s face grew even paler as he scrambled to escape the room. Before he could even get to his feet, Jeanne d’Arc slammed the butt of her spear against the ground. Immediately, dozens of identical spears burst from the ground around the bishop, all set to skewer him. At the same time, a gout of fire rose from the ground, enveloping him completely. He was less than ash before a single spear pierced him.

Jeanne scowled. “That was disappointing. You all know your orders, it is time to spread this despair to the rest of France.”

“My saint-“ Gilles stepped in, “What shall I do with the other members of the clergy?”

“Let them go, Gilles.”

Gilles balked. “You can’t be serious!” he spluttered. “They are the ones who sent you to die! What about their punishment!” He whined like an impetuous child.

Jeanne gave a mirthless grin. “Oh, I never said anything about letting them live. I simply want to see how well our new servants hunt.”

Gilles immediately lit up. “Haha! Of course, my saint! I shall see to it at once!” He cackled as he ran out of the room, eager to fulfill her orders.

Jeanne addressed her servants once again. “Go on, make a show of it. And save room for the main course.”

Screams of all kinds filled the castle as its grounds turned into a slaughterhouse once again. The mad servants easily cornered the terrified clergy, and-

Then we woke up.

[id-rather-be-an-outsider]

Angel From Ymir

Reiner Braun

word count: 1418

summary: Reiner comes across a kitty. kitty decides Reiner is his person. this is Reiner’s written experience.

tw: mentions of depression + ptsd. cute cuddliness and Reiner being adorable.

a/n: cats are cute and well-suited for many lifestyles! but please adopt responsibly and don’t take on a cat unless you’re ready and financially able to do so! please remember: 1) keeping your cat indoors is the ONLY way to prevent them from being hit by a car, stolen, attacked by other animals or exposed to diseases! 2) be careful and do your research and consult your cat’s vet before giving your cat a flea treatment! some brands cause seizures that can kill your cat or shorten their lifespan severely! protecting your cat from fleas and other sicknesses should NEVER cost a cat their life! 3) declawing a cat is NOT taking away their fingernails, it’s taking away their FINGERS! cats need their claws to climb and declawing them is inhibiting them from doing what they were born to do! 4) if a cat can reach it, they can wreck it, and that’s on you, not the cat, and that’s on PERIOD! if you have items that you want to keep safe 100% of the time then keep them AWAY!!! you can’t tell a cat to not be a cat, but you CAN tell YOURSELF to be a responsible cat owner!

Entry 1 - Monday

I’m not all that sure what I’m doing. Pieck gave me this, and suggested journaling to help me. She said there’s no wrong way to do this but I’ll probably fuck it up like everything else, so here goes. I uh... had a pretty average day today. Full of planning, saluting, groveling to Marleyans while they called me a devil, and pretending like I don’t hate myself and hate existing. I can tell Gabi is worried about me. Nothing out of the ordinary at this point. A cat followed me home, a yellow tabby. Cats are a rare sight nowadays. They were skinny.

Entry 2 - Tuesday

The cat was sitting outside my door when I left today. It rubbed up against my legs when I was locking my door, and made a noise that sounded like a tiny motorcycle. I think it’s called purring. It followed me to work, and it followed me back home again. I feel bad that it’s so skinny.

Entry 3 - Wednesday

I set out food and water for the cat today when I left. Just some sardines I had sitting in my cupboard. The food was finished and the cat was there waiting for me when I got home. It meowed at me until I pet its’ head.

Entry 4 - Saturday

I had a nightmare last night. Not uncommon for me. Today was my day off, and when I woke up in the morning I heard a scratching noise at the door. Turns out it was the cat, because when I opened the door it ran in and sat in my reading chair like it owned the place. I guess it’s here to stay now, because it runs every time I try to grab it, and it’s not really scratching anything up, so... I don’t know. I moved the food and water bowl inside.

Entry 5 - Sunday

Second day off. I spent the day reading. The cat came and napped in my lap. I fell asleep at one point, too. What? The cat was warm. And the sun was shining on us through the window.

Entry 6 - Thursday

I wish we could take afternoon naps at work. The cat followed me to work again. Pieck saw and asked me about it, so I told her what I told you. She said the cat picked me, whatever that means. I’m not really an animal person so I don’t get why. When I got home, there was a dead bird on my doorstep, and the cat was licking its’ chops. Kinda disgusting.

Entry 7 - Friday

Today I woke up to a crow on my doorstep. This cat is crazy. I asked Pieck about it, she said cats bring gifts to their masters. Some gift, if you ask me. Another observation: cats like boxes.

Entry 8 - Sunday

Something peculiar happened. I had a nightmare, but when I woke up, the cat was there kneading on my chest, licking my nose and rubbing their face against mine. They haven’t left my side yet. Literally. When I took a shower they just sat on the toilet seat lid next to it, and every time I’ve sat down today they’ve climbed in my lap and purred really loudly, rubbing their head against my hands when they could. It’s almost like they could sense my unease. It feels... calming. I usually write at the end of the day but the experience made me want to take note.

Entry 9 - Friday

I’ve missed a couple days, to sum them all up: I go to sleep with the cat under the blankets and wake up with them curled up under my armpit or in the crook of my neck. Today they brought me a squirrel. Their presents are getting to be terrifying, but also normal. They brought me a couple rats the past few days, too.

Entry 10 - Monday

I’m getting this heathen a collar. I woke up to them holding a goose twice their size in their mouth, and the poor creature wasn’t even dead. I had to put it out of its’ misery.

Entry 11 - Tuesday

I came home to find the cat napping in my untouched potatoes. I think I’m gonna call him Potato.

Entry 12 - Tuesday

I think the collar worked. Between the bell and his tags jingling, Potato must scare off every animal in sight because he hasn’t caught anything in a week. Or maybe I’m just not seeing it and he’s been eating his catches after my last reaction. He’s been getting a little fat. I’m worried I’m feeding him too much, I’ve been refilling his bowl every time I saw it empty, which is about twice a day. How much do cats normally eat?

Entry 13 - Saturday

Potato’s not acting normal. He’s been meowing a lot, which is cute, but he also hasn’t been moving as much. And he’s been eating even more than he usually does. I just hope he’ll be okay. Cats aren’t usually kept as pets anymore since they’re so scarce, so no veterinarian will take him. They all keep laughing at me when I tell them my problem. Why is it funny to them? They’re being rude and cruel. If anything happens to Potato I don’t know what I’ll do. Potato is my best friend. Even when he steals my dinner from time to time, I don’t get mad at him. I talk to him about my day like he can hear me, and I tell him about the things I’ve experienced and it really feels like he listens, because every time I get to a bad part and start panicking or crying he’s there, helping me calm down. I haven’t had nightmares even half as often anymore and when I do, he’s there on my chest when I wake up, making me feel better. I can’t call out of work to stay with him. I’m worried he might die. If he does, I’m just glad I have these last two days off. So I can say goodbye.

Entry 14 - Wednesday

He’s getting worse. He’s been laying in the same spot in my closet for awhile. I moved his food and water there and brought blankets and his favorite box to make it cozy for him, but I don’t feel like I can do anything.

Entry 15 - Friday

Well... it turns out Potato was a girl. I came home from work today to find her laying with two kittens - a brown tabby and a black one. I’m just glad she’s okay, and trying to not to think about the fact that I now have two more cats that I’ll have to start feeding myself in a couple weeks. Potato’s been back to her normal self, mostly, but she splits her time between me and running to check up on her babies.

Entry 16 - Saturday

A couple weeks have gone by and I’ve been too busy to write, but the kittens are up and running around now. The black one seems very sure footed and confident in her steps, but the brown tabby runs into walls when he gets excited. He’s... kinda stupid. I made sure to actually check their undersides this time instead of just assuming. I’m hoping to find someone who can get them all fixed at some point so I only have to pay to care for the three I have now.

Entry 17 - Sunday

I have never found myself so content. Or maybe just so distracted. I don’t know. The kittens are cute and so soft but they’re also little nuisances, racing around at night and scratching up the inside of the closet door. They’ve bitten through my lamp chord three times now. I didn’t realize damage control was more expensive than the actual care for them. Why can’t they be like their mom?

Entry 18 - Monday

Gabi wants the brown tabby. I’m kind of attached despite his idiocy, but I see the way her eyes light up when she comes over to play with the kittens. He picked her as his and always cuddles with her. He won’t even sit in my lap now. He just wants Gabi.

Entry 19 - Thursday

Gabi took Porkchop home today. She picked out his name and I paid for the collar and tags. Her mom was already cooing to him within the first five minutes of him being there. Letting him go was the right choice.

Entry 20 - Wednesday

Oh god. Potato’s getting fat again. Wish me luck.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

Pilate Sentencing Jesus (John 19:1-16)

Pilate's portrait is hung up in the gallery of the world's great criminals. His is one of the names which never will be forgotten. The incident of the scourging is one of the darkest blots in the story of that terrible Friday. Pilate claimed that he could find no fault in Jesus, and that He should be released - yet, hoping that it would satisfy the Jews, he ordered Him to be scourged. The scourging must be considered as a part of Christ's sufferings as the world's Redeemer. The shame and indignity of being tied like a slave to a whipping post and then beaten until He seemed dead, we never can realize, for, thanks to the softening influence of the religion of Christ, such treatment even of the worst criminals is now unknown in civilized lands. There is, however, a word in Isaiah which gives a fresh meaning to this part of Christ's suffering. "With His stripes we are healed" (Isaiah 53:5), says the prophet. The peace we enjoy is ours, because the rod of chastisement fell upon Him - because He was smitten. Our soul's diseases are healed, their wounds made whole, because the body of Jesus was gashed and lacerated by the horrible scourge!

After the cruel scourging came the crowning with thorns and the mockery of Jesus as a King. "The soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on his head." We ought to look with great love and reverence at the picture - Jesus the Son of God, our Savior, standing there in the midst of heathen soldiers, mocked and insulted by them. We know how truly He is a King, and what a glorious King He is.

When the crusaders had captured the Holy City, Palestine became an independent kingdom. Godfrey, of Bouillon, was made king of Jerusalem, and it was proposed that he be crowned with a golden crown. But Godfrey's noble answer was, "I will not wear a crown of gold in the city where my Savior wore a crown of thorns."

It is a sweet thought, too, that because Jesus wore a crown of thorns in the day of His shame - His redeemed ones shall wear crowns of glory in the life to come.

In one sense this mock coronation of Jesus was very significant. Was He really ever more a King than when He was enduring His cross? All through John's gospel we have seen that Jesus spoke of His going to His cross - as His being glorified. His cross really was His throne. It was on the cross that He fought the great battle and won the great victory of redemption. The cross was the ladder that led up to His throne. His crown of thorns, too, was fitter for Him than a crown of gold would have been, for He was the King of sorrow ; He reached His glory - by His sufferings; He saved His people - by dying for them. He is adored and worshiped now as the King who has lifted men up by His own sorrows and blood to eternal life and blessedness.

Pilate showed pitiful weakness at every step in his dealing with Jesus. He knew there was no sin in Him, and yet he brought Him out to the people and surrendered Him to them. "Behold the Man!" Our eyes should be fixed upon Jesus as He stands there in the presence of the multitude. On His head - is the crown of thorns, and around His torn and bleeding body - is a purple robe, mock emblems of royalty. Behold the Man! Behold the Man enduring shame and contempt, set forth as a spectacle of mockery, that He might be presented at last in glory, and honored before angels and the Father. Behold the Man, reviled - yet reviling not again; hated - but still loving on; cruelly wronged - but speaking no resentful word. Behold the Man, the God-Man, wearing humanity, the Son of God humbling Himself and becoming obedient unto shame and death - that He might save our souls! Behold the Man, holy, sinless, undefiled, separate from sinners - yet bearing upon His own head as the Lamb of God, the sin of the world.

The only righteous thing for a just judge to do when he finds his prisoner innocent - is to set him free. Pilate brought Jesus out to the people - but said plainly, "I find no fault in Him." Nobody could. Nobody ever did. The rulers tried zealously enough to find something that they use as a pretext - but they found nothing. They tried false witnesses - but even these could not agree in their witnessing. Now the keen Roman judge inquires into His character, into His life, into His motives - but finds nothing against Him. No other man has lived in whom no fault could be found. The holiest men have sinned. But Jesus was absolutely sinless. Why then did He suffer as a sinner? We know well the answer. They were our sins that they laid upon Him. "Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us" (Galatians 3:13). Christ also has suffered once for sins, "the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God." "Who His own self bore our sins in His own body on the tree."

We never should forget this. In these days perhaps there is a tendency to forget the sacrifice of Christ, in thinking of His salvation. Between us in our curse and our blessing - stands the cross of our Savior. He was wounded for our transgressions and bruised for our iniquities. Let us praise the grace that took our sins, that we may stand whiter than snow before the throne of judgment!

The silences of Jesus are always as significant as His words. He was silent to Pilate. He understood Pilate's weak insincerity. Pilate had had opportunity enough to do the right thing for Jesus - but he had thrown away His opportunity. Now Jesus would answer no more of His questions. One lesson we must get from this silence - is that if we reject Christ's offer of mercy and grace over and over, the time may come, will come, when Christ will be silent to us. And of all calamities that can possibly ever come to any soul - none could be so great as that Christ should be silent to its prayers. "Then shall they call upon me - but I will not answer; they shall seek me early - but they shall not find me" (Proverbs 1:28).

Another lesson we may learn from Christ's example, is that there come times in all our lives, when silence is better than speech. Often to words of reviling or to insult - silence is the only true Christian answer. To many of the assaults of skeptics on our religion and on our Lord - it is better that we remain silent than that we speak. There is a time to speak boldly and without fear in the presence of Christ's enemies - Christ did speak several times in reply to Pilate - but there are also times when we should keep silence, attempting no answer.

Pilate tried to compel Jesus to answer him. "Don't you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?" The answer of Jesus is very clear. "You would have no power over me - if it were not given to you from above." No man's power belongs to himself, to do with as he pleases; it is given him from God, the Source of all power. This is true of the authority of parents and teachers, and of the power possessed by civil magistrates. Men are eager to obtain positions of power, and they do not always realize the responsibility which is attached to such positions. Power belongs to God, and must be used for God, or its misuse will bring its sore penalty. It is a talent which is given to us to be accounted for, and no treason is worse than malfeasance in the employing of power. This is true all the way from the power of the child on the playground or in the home, up to the power of the president of the nation or of the king on His throne. "You would have no power over me - if it were not given to you from above."

There is another sweet thought suggested by the words "against me" in this sentence. Christ in this world was under the protection of His Father, and no one on earth could lift a finger against Him but by the Father's divine permission. What was true of Him, the Son of God, is true of each one of the sons of God in all their earthly life. Each believer, the humblest, the weakest, is kept in this world as the apple of God's eye. No one can lift a finger to touch one of God's little ones, except by divine permission. This shows how secure we are, amid all the world's dangers and enmities, while we trust ourselves, like little children, in our Father's keeping.

When Pilate ceased His weak efforts to have Jesus released, saying to the rulers, "Behold Your King!" they cried out, "Away with him, crucify him!" Thus they finally rejected their Messiah. We read at the beginning of John's gospel that "He came unto His own - and His own received him not" (1:11 ). The whole story of His life was an illustration of this rejection of Him. Wherever He went they received Him not. Here and there a home opened its doors to Him, and now and then there was a devout heart that made hospitality for Him - but these receptions were so few that they could easily be counted. Crowds of the common people thronged after Him, and many heard Him gladly - but very few became His true disciples. Even on Palm Sunday, five days before He died, there was a vast multitude to cry, "Hosanna!" and wave palm branches; but soon the palms lay withered in the streets, and on Friday only cries of "Crucify him!" were heard in the air. "He came unto His own - and His own received Him not."

It is the saddest event in all history, this coming of the Son of God to this earth, bearing in His hands all divine and heavenly blessings - but finding only shut doors and shut hearts, being compelled to take away His gifts because men would not receive them. We read this old story and wonder how His own people could have treated Him so; yet how is it with us? Do we treat Him any better? We do not cry, "Crucify him!" but we shut the doors of our hearts in His face and keep Him out. We reject and refuse His gifts which He comes all the way from heaven to bring to us. We may not with angry voice exclaim, "Away with him!" but in our hearts many of us do keep Him away.

The struggle had ceased, and "Pilate delivered him therefore unto them to be crucified." He first tried every way to avoid the issue; then he temporized, hoping in some way to evade the responsibility. At least he yielded, and his name goes down through history pilloried forever, as the man who delivered Jesus to be crucified, knowing and confessing that He was free from any crime. He was known in the world by no other act. Surely it is an unenviable notoriety. It had been a thousand times better for him if he had never been horn, or if he had remained forever in quiet obscurity, instead of going to that high place of power in the land, in which he had to meet and deal with this most monentous question of history.

We read in one of the Gospels that Pilate took water in the presence of the people and washed his hands, thus by symbol declaring that he was not responsible for the sentencing of Jesus to die. But the water did not wash away one particle of the stain of the guilt of that terrible sin! Pilate had the misfortune to be the only man in all the province who could send Jesus to the cross. Upon him, therefore, the final responsibility rested, no matter the pressure that was brought to bear upon him by the enemies of Jesus.

Just so, the fact that others urge us to sin - does not take away our guilt for that sin. No being in the universe can compel us to do wrong; if, then, we do wrong - the sin is our own. True, Jesus said there was one other whose guilt was even greater than Pilate's - that was the high priest. His sin was not only that he himself was determined to do wrong - but that he dragged others with him. We remember that the rulers replied to Pilate's act of washing his hands, "His blood be on us and on our children!" (Matthew 27:25). No one who has read the story of the next forty years can doubt that this self-imprecation was fulfilled. Forty years later, thousands of the people were scourged and crucified. The crime of the rulers was successful - but what came of the success in the end? Let us learn that sin brings always terrible woe, and that the worst of all sin - is sin against the Lord Jesus Christ.

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Parting Gift

Summary: Virgil navigates an empty world he didn't see before and he can't see now. Thankfully the modified roomba his parents left him helps in the absence of people.Just a silly little fic I thought of because we recently got a robot vacuum.

Warnings: apocalypse scenario, food mention, insinuated death (not described or shown), mild swearing. If there’s more please let me know!

Ships: background Lociet (background Logan x Janus)

WC: 2405

General Taglist (ask to be added or removed) @im-an-anxious-wreck @logans-library

The tap-tap-tapping of Virgil’s cane as he moved along the road matched perfectly with the beat playing out of the one working earbud in his ear. Whatever town or residential area he had stumbled into was quiet and barren though seemingly not nearly as destroyed as the last one he had been in. Changing direction slightly as he has started to stray into wet grass he continued along what he assumed was a sidewalk, carefully feeling for the edge to make sure he was centered before continuing to sweep the cane in front of him to avoid whatever rubble or trash or non working car might have ended up on the side of the cracked road. 

Virgil didn’t know what the world had looked like before and he could only imagine what it looked like now. Everything had happened so fast he doubted he’d be able to recognize it anyway. He had never been able to see and it had never bothered him as much as it did now; with no way to know if someone was on the road other than the sound of footsteps he hadn’t heard in months and nothing to keep him company except his music and- well he supposed he couldn’t complain. Tripping slightly over a stray rock he hadn’t felt brought him back from his thoughts and into the real world once again, shivering as he realized just how cold it was getting and how truly tired he was from walking all day.

Continuing on only a couple more feet revealed a pathway leading off to what he hoped was a house or a store. As bad as he sometimes felt about it, there was no one around anymore- at least as far as he had managed to travel thus far- no one would miss a couple cans of ravioli and a few bottles of water if he could manage to scrounge them up. The walkway seemed pretty thin leading away from the main road so he assumed he was in a residential area with houses rather than near anything like a general store or pharmacy; he really hoped he came across one soon he was running low on band-aids. He could only do  so much with a cane and though he wished his palms and knees were tougher by now that he wouldn’t have to bandage them every time he fell sadly his callus just wasn’t thick enough.

Long grass brushed his ankles under his too short jeans, wispy blades rustling quietly as he passed. He took his headphone out as he walked after turning on the beat up ipod and pressing where he knew the pause button was from years of the same motion. Crickets began their evening concert as the birds finished their own, the air growing cooler as Virgil imagined the sun finally dipping below the horizon. He shifted the weight of his book bag more to one shoulder as he slipped it off the other hoping to reach an entryway of some sort soon since his feet were protesting the day of doing nothing but picking a direction and walking. Hitting a step he nudged the cane up until he could judge how high it was- sometimes they were high enough to trip him and other times they were so low they were more of an annoyance than anything else- and carefully made his way up all three of them. There were plastic feeling columns on either side of the top step so he assumed he was on the front porch of a house, some careful prodding revealing one of those rubber welcome mats he was constantly getting the soles of his shoes stuck on since when he was tired he refused to pick his feet up properly. He faintly heard his dad telling him to straighten his back and walk like he was alive but he shook it off with an eye roll. Posture didn’t matter if there was no one around to see it.

Fumbling around a minute for the door handle he stopped as his cheeks reddened, reaching up to knock first. Just because he hadn’t run into anyone yet didn’t mean it couldn’t happen and he  really didn't want to break into someone’s home if they were still there and startle them. He didn’t fancy getting shot after so long of surviving o his own and to have that compromised because he was a heathen who didn’t knock anymore would be an idiotic way to go for sure. KNocking, however, proved fruitless. Nothing answered but the crickets though as he knuckle raps turned to rather loud pounds on the door they began to quiet. A part of him still wished sometimes that someone would answer, it had been so long since he’d heard another voice. He knew realistically that if he was still here there would have to be other survivors and that if he kept walking he was bound to run into them. 

After years of doing nothing but that had yet to turn anything up though, and it seemed that this time would be no different. His hand fell to the knob once again as he took a breath and held it before twisting and pushing open the door. Hesitantly sniffing the air revealed nothing but old, unaired house smell and dust that had been kicked up from the bottom of the door brushing the carpet in the entryway. He sneezed loudly, the sound echoing sadly as if the house had missed the concept of sound, and wiped his nose on his sleeve before sighing in relief. Sometimes he entered a house or store and there would be...different smells. Ones that would make him gag and bolt from the building so the hot, cloying scent wouldn’t stick to his cloths. Those days were declared laundry days anyway, sullenly dunking his clothes in the rivers he always stuck close to trying to rid himself of the memory with the fresh smell of laundry detergent and sunlight. The day after that was spent moving as far away as he could as quickly as he could to get away from the dark scent that hung on the streets. It was safer to scrounge out granola bars from the bottom of his bag on those days than to risk looking for anything more substantial in the buildings he might be able to get into.

As it was Virgil stepped in the house and carefully closed the door behind him, swinging his bookbag around and cringing at the sound of the zipper echoing faintly in the doorway. Grabbing a smaller, padded drawstring bag out he opened it and carefully set the Roomba down, giving it a little pet before turning it on. It beeped out a pleasant little tune before the whirring sound of it starting up and moving away filled the house and he smiled, leaving his bag by the door and getting up to explore the house with Stuart.

Stuart the vacuum, as dumb as it was, was Virgil’s only source of company and had been since he was about four. The world was already crumbling at that point and rather than risking going out and about to find Virgil a seeing eye pet that wouldn’t last his whole lifetime if he lived long, his dads had modified their small vacuum for him in the hopes that it would last. And it had. Rather than having to plug into a power source it was solar charged, which the front of the bag it was kept in and his backpack was clear plastic to allow it to charge during the day, storing hours of energy to be able to work when Virgil needed it. Instead of vacuuming it simply went about bumping into things and storing a digital map of any small area, letting Virgil then walk beside it and stop when it beeped, nudging him in a different direction so he didn't bump into or trip on anything. This of course was before he was proficient with feeling his whereabouts with his cane adn at this point it was like letting a trusted pet out for its nightly walk rather than out of any necessity but Virgil loved it as if it was a dog. His most loyal companion...who he kept in his bag all day. He snorted as he felt out what was feeling to be the kitchen; he’d take anything over the oppressive silence of an empty house.

His mouth tightened as he felt around in cabinets for cans- all smooth labels of course, nothing to differentiate the corn from the beets from the manwich spread. He hated the fact that dinners were so often a surprise just because no one had thought to universalize a system to put a bit of braille on cans. Even some raised lettering underneath the label spelling out one word descriptors would be fine, instead he could only go by smell and taste and hope to god nothing he put in his mouth had expired. He missed grilled cheese and fried chicken and french fries- all things he didn’t have the means or resources to make. He never learned to hunt or slaughter anything and he doubted he’d be able to learn when he didn’t even know how to tell what parts of an animal to eat, let alone see what he was doing to cut it out and cook it. He was lucky he taught himself how to start a fire some years ago- he couldn’t imagine actually catching a fish and knowing when it was cooked enough to eat without just burning it to a crisp. Sighing as he opened a can with his old can opened he tentatively sniffed at the contents. 

Baked beans were good. He’d rather have them hot but he had no motivation to go out and start a fire right now and there was no way in hell he was going to try inside- so cold bean jelly it was. He’d had worse. He grabbed his cane from where he had leaned it against the counter and began walking back into what he assumed would be the living room as Stuart beeped to notify him he was done. Smiling as he felt a small nudge he changed direction to navigate around what felt like a dusty leather couch and settled on the floor in front of it to eat his dinner. Stuart came to rest beside him while he dug a spoon out of the smaller bag he always carried and he smirked slightly, feeling around to place a single baked bean on top of the vacuum as a reward for a job well done. 

He tucked in as he thought of what his dads would say about him doing that; both of them would more than likely find it endearing but relentlessly tease him about it for the rest of his life. He imagined his father’s face wrinkling up in an amused smile, scars tugging around crows feet and wispy hair tickling his fingertips. Dad’s smile was a lot smaller but no less sincere, mostly held in his eyes that had his lower eyelid just barely lifting. He missed feeling their faces- they’d let him do it whenever he’d ask to make sure he knew what emotion they were displaying. Both of them were awkward when it came to voicing their feelings and Virgil was always terrible at picking up social cues from simply listening, so being able to read a face as easily as a book often helped put them all at ease.Idly he brushed the top of Stuart’s “head”, feeling nothing but cool, hard plastic beneath his fingers. 

He cleaned up as best as he could, throwing the top of the can away in a trash bin after wiping it off and setting the actual can on the back porch with another full one for whatever might come by. His cane was carefully tucked just underneath the couch as he unrolled his sleeping bag and small pillow to get comfy for the night, placing his little vacuum by his head before snuggling down into bed and sighing quietly. Reaching out he felt for the button on the side of the roomba, a little rough and worn from years of the same routine of day. Biting his lip he pressed it in before snatching his hand away and tucking himself in completely, squeezing his eyes shut like he’d been sleeping all along.

“Is he asleep?” His father’s silky voice cut through the silence.

“I should hope so, it’s dark out and he needs his rest.” Dad was always very matter of fact, Virgil could imagine his arms crossing as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“...Do you want to start or should I?”

Virgil’s dad sighed. “I hope that you got to sleep at a reasonable hour this time, and that you had a good dinner that was as balanced as you could make it. That- that you’re somewhere safe-”

HIs father stepped in smoothly. “We hope that you’re taking care of yourself as best as you can, and taking care of Stuart as well. Hopefully there are people around that can help you when you need it and you aren’t afraid to ask for it- but if there aren’t I know you’re capable enough on your own.”

“We wish you only happiness, no matter how bad things are or get, always remember that it has the capability to get better as long as you are willing to work for it. I know whatever you’re working on or towards you’re doing the absolute best you can do, and we couldn’t be more proud.”

“We love you, Virgil. So, so much and don’t you ever forget that. take care of yourself and please stay safe.”

“Goodnight, Virgil.” He could still remember Dad brushing his fingers through his hair before the weight had disappeared from the bed.

“Goodnight, Virgil. Sweet dreams.” He felt a phantom kiss on the cheek from memory long since passed, the blankets pulled up and tucked around him. The door creaked shut and the recording ended, Stuart beeping softly to indicate he was shutting down. Safely tucked into his sleeping bag with a full stomach in the silence, Virgil let his eyes drift shut, a smile still on his lips as he fell into a peaceful sleep.

This work is also available on AO3!

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[hailbop1701]

25 Days of FicMas

December 6th prompt: Fake Date for Christmas

Word count: 2,380

He's my...boyfriend?

Well here it is! I love this trope...we need more of this. This was pretty damn fun to write and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did!

-H❤🖖

You tossed your phone onto the noodle shop counter with a scowl before sitting back down with John and Dorian. “You okay?” Dorian asked concerned as he pushed a bowl of noodles towards you. John looked at you expectantly mouth full, you practically hissed at Dorian’s inquiry. “Just a joyous call with my mother,” you muttered violently cracking your chopsticks apart so you could use them. Both officers eyed you cautiously, “I take it that Christmas is going to be a bust?” Kennex asked taking a swig of soda. “That’s an understatement,” you muttered sourly looking at your food suddenly not hungry anymore. “She wants to set me up again!” 

Both Dorian and John were silent before they burst out laughing, you glared at them heatedly. “Come on it’s not funny!” you whined hurling your unused chopsticks at them out of frustration. Dorian snickered but calmed down out of respect to you, John, however, thought it was one of the funniest things he has heard in a while. You smacked him on the arm repeatedly until he stopped, “alright, alright!” he cried scooting away from you in order to protect himself. “What are you going to do?” he asked in all seriousness now. You sighed and slumped in your seat, “I have to go. My brothers would be upset if I skipped out and my dad would be disappointed,” you grumbled pushing your cooled-down bowl of noodles towards Kennex. He dug in the moment your hand left the porcelain. Rolling your eyes you hopped down from your stool grabbing your EMS-issued jacket, “I guess I have to suffer through unless I get a boyfriend in the next forty-eight hours,” you said dryly. Waving your goodbyes you were out the door and into the cold snowy city. 

Dorian hit Kennex on the shoulder lightly, “Is it whack Kennex day or something?” the man asked incredulously. The DRN rolled his eyes, “did you hear what she said John?” he asked smirking. John huffed finishing his second meal, “Yes, Dorian I’m not deaf. Sounds like she’s gonna have an unwanted guest this Christmas,” he said taking out his phone to pay the man behind the counter. Dorian gave his partner a look, “and you’re not the least bit jealous?” he asked unconvinced. John snorted, “not in the slightest. Why would I be?” he asked yanking on his coat avoiding eye contact. “Well, it could be because you like (Y/N) a lot. I can tell by numerous readings to your-” John cut Dorian off by shutting the door of the noodle shop in his face. “Real mature,” the android muttered before following his human to the car. 

“All I’m saying is that maybe you should offer to be her date for Christmas so she’s not miserable,” Dorian said after they got done with a crime scene. John stopped and looked at the android like he had suddenly sprouted wings and a second head. “You’ve got to be joking. This isn’t some RomCom Dorian!” Kennex hissed quietly as they got back into the car to go to the station. Dorian mumbled under his breath and blew out an unnecessary breath multiple times. Kennex groaned a headache starting to form over his left eye, “besides she’d never go for it,” he whispered almost to himself. The DRN grinned, “you could always offer and find out. I mean you practically see each other every day. It's like you're already dating,” he pointed out feeling giddy. John tapped the steering wheel with his thumb actually thinking over what he said, “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered making up his mind. 

You sat behind the wheel of your car in somewhat comfortable silence with John Kennex in the passenger seat, ‘I can’t believe I agreed to this’ you thought anxiously. You white-knuckled the wheel as you pulled down a long drive, “It’s going to be a packed house,” you warned sheepishly glancing over to the man next to you. John smirked, “this should be interesting,” he murmured leaning forward as the house came into view. It was old in style but well kept; the ivory paint looked as if it needed a new coat or two and the navy blue shudders were dusted with snow. Christmas lights twinkled in the dusk and the windows of the house glowed inviting people in from the cold. John gave a low whistle, “big place,” he breathed taking note of the large amount of land your family home was on. You smiled, “big family,” you said parking off to the side almost on the front lawn. Snow crunched under your boots as you got out of the warm car, shivering you slammed the car door shut. You looked around and smiled, everything was the same. John closed the passenger side door and quickly moved to the trunk for your bags; the faster he got inside the faster he got warm. The front door of the (Y/L/N) homestead opened and there were shouts of excitement; then suddenly you were tackled. Giving a very undignified screech you flew back into a snowbank with your four rambunctious brothers on top of you. It didn’t matter if the older of the four was at least three years older than you. 

“Ugh get off me you mouth breathers!” you grunted flailing around until you could breathe properly. John watched from the side; he was torn between laughing and wanting to be concerned. He snorted doing his best to keep quiet. “But we missed you!” the youngest of the boys said enthusiastically. His front tooth was missing and he was grinning from ear to ear. “I know Matty but I can’t breathe with Luka's fat butt on top of me,” you groaned. The little boy Matty hopped up hoping to ease the burden; like the little hero he was, he shoved the biggest of boys off of your abdomen. “Luka you butt move!” Matty shouted tackling the unsuspecting high school-aged boy into the snow. Now that the biggest was off of you you practically flung the other two boys into the snow along with him. “Ah, (Y/N)” one of them howled shaking the snow from his hair. You got up brushing off your coat, “heathens,” you murmured affectionately. The boys got off the ground eyeing John up and down like they were trying to decide if he were a threat. “Guys, this is John my...boyfriend,” you said the lie slipping off your tongue easily. Your siblings narrowed their eyes at the officer in scrutiny and John almost wanted to shuffle his feet. Eventually, they smiled and introduced themselves from top to bottom. Jamie, Luka, Parker, and Matty. John smiled and shook each one’s hand, even little Matty. You grinned happily when you saw that they got on okay, quickly moving forward you took one of the bags from John’s hands. “You all comin’ inside or are you gonna sleep out here tonight?” a voice boomed from the front porch. Your grin widened when you heard your father’s call; flinging the duffle over your shoulder you broke out into a jog up to the porch. You flung your arms around your fathers gleefully making the older man stumble back; he chuckled as he hugged you tightly. “How’s my girl?” he asked pulling back so he could take a proper look at you. 

You smiled sweetly, “I’m doing alright, I uh brought company with me like I said I would,” you mumbled nervously. Your father’s smile brightened when he saw John walk up the porch steps talking to your brothers about something or other. They seemed to be really into it, “John if you stick a knife in your prosthetic I will have to hurt you,” you warned somewhat teasingly. Your brothers choked back laughter when John made the “uh oh,” face, “how do you do that?” he wondered openmouthed. Sighing you crossed your arms, “because I know you and I know them,” you said dryly. Your brothers snickered filing into the house to get out of the cold; your father laughed and took John’s hand in his when he offered it, “It’s nice to meet you, Sir,” John greeted respectfully. “It’s nice to finally meet you, son. I’m Henry, ” 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

It had taken you and John a good hour before you made it to your childhood room, sighing you gently placed the duffle you were lugging around onto the queen-sized bed. “My mother was way too happy to meet you I think,” you said making a face. Kennex snorted from where he was being nosy, “mother’s love me,” he said cockily. You watched as he examined your giant collection of books he pulled one out and smirked, “well that’s nostalgic,” he murmured reading the back. You chuckled walking over and plucked your copy of Harry Potter from his hands, “I’m surprised John, you a reader?” you asked feigning shock. “I read...in school,” he mumbled scrunching up his nose slightly. It was the cutest damn thing you ever saw. Putting the book back in its place you eyed the bed with trepidation, “I didn’t’ think about this part,” you muttered scratching your head. “Nervous to share a bed with me?” John joked as he flipped through one of your old journals. Squeaking you yanked it from his hands, glaring you smacked him with it, “no I just picture you being a bed hog,” you said placing the book back where he found it. You turned back to face him biting your lip, “ I can-” you stopped noticing suddenly how close the two of you were. John gently tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, fingers stroking along your cheek. Electricity buzzed around you and after a moment you both leaned in.

A sudden bout of screaming made you abruptly pull apart; running past your door was Matty with a bucket on his head being chased by two of your cousins. The screaming continued until you heard a crash from the end of the hallway followed by a long drawn-out “I’m okay!” you put a hand to your mouth trying to suppress your giggles. “No Matty, the stairs are that way!” a distant voice called. Your eyes widened and you were out your bedroom door within seconds. John huffed a laugh, “I’m not even mad,” he whispered following you out the door. He stopped short when he saw you, your foot braced against the hallway wall pulling on the bucket that was stuck to your brother’s dome; with another sharp tug it popped off making you stumble back arms windmilling. “Thanks (Y/N)!” Matty cheered and raced down the stairs with your two cousins following behind. John plucked the bucket from your hands and hooked its handle over a nearby doorknob; with your hands-free, he moved in again only to stop when a voice shouted up the stairs, “dinner’s ready!” Kennex laughed humorously. “I can’t win,” he sighed running a hand through his hair. You gave him a sympathetic look pink dusting your cheeks, “Yeah that’s going to happen a lot,” you said grimacing. John threw his hands up in the air and moved around you to get to the stairs, smirking you stopped the man by grabbing the front of his shirt dragging him down to you, “so you have to seize the moment,” you whispered inches from his lips. 

A camera flash made you growl and pull back, at the bottom of the stairs stood one of your brothers. An old vintage polaroid camera in his hands, he grinned pulling the picture from the bottom and started shaking it. “Oh you are a dead man,” you hissed. Luka’s eyes widened, you impressively jumped from the top step just as he bolted. Landing nimbly on your feet you twisted and sprinted after him, “mom told me to do it!” Luka tried to plead with you terror in his voice. “I don’t care if the Pope told you to do it!” you called back. John casually walked down the stairs and peered around the corner in the direction of all the noise. He winced when he saw you catch your brother. You curled an arm around the boy, who was twice your size, and brought him crashing to the floor. The house shook and nobody seemed to bat an eye at the disturbance. “Festive,” John muttered and looked over when he heard Henry start laughing into his whiskey. “You don’t even know the half of it, John,” he said offering a second glass. They watched as you placed a knee on his back and pluck the picture from his limp hand. The boy groaned pitifully, “and that’s why I don’t need to give you the talk,” Henry said with a nod and silent cheers before striding into the dining room. “I think I’m in love,” John downed the whiskey quickly and moved towards you. Taking your wrist he pulled you into a little room that housed the washer and dryer, “sorry about-” you began but was cut off by John’s lips on yours. Breaking it off gently needing the chance to breathe you gaped, “what was that for?” you asked blushing beet red. John grinned eyes glowing, “I think we failed at this whole fake relationship thing. Why don’t we try a real relationship this time,” he suggested. You choked on a laugh, “why detective, are you asking me out?” John smirked, “I’m asking for way more than that sweetheart,” he whispered placing a sweet kiss on your forehead and moved out the door towards the promise of food. Your face grew even redder, “I - uh-okay,” you spluttered as you walked out of the laundry room. Your mom stopped by you and leaned up against the wall arms crossed a dish towel hung loosely in her hand. “I’m quite impressed by him sweetie,” she complimented making you roll your eyes. “He’s smart, has a good job, handsome,” she sang and made a grabbing motion with her hands at the level where his butt would have been. “Mom!” you hissed mortified. She laughed and winked as she too moved to the dining room, “I don’t know how I’m going to last until new years,” you laughed nervously following her. 

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[n3rdybird]

The Serpent Ch 1

Written for @tilltheendwilliwrite​‘s 7.7k Celebration/Covid Sucks Challenge.  My prompt was this image.

Not gonna lie, this got away from me a bit, and looks like it might flesh out into several chapters.  Hope you enjoy!

Vikings

OFCxIvar

Rating:Teen

Warnings: Blood/Battle/Curse words

The singing of swords echoed through the trees. Ivar and his men mowed down English soldiers with relish, screaming their victory. Ivar, atop his chariot, pounded his axe against the woodside, eager for more. The wood bridge was no-man’s land as both sides rushed each other, dying over the water. Ivar urged his horse forward, his blood pounding with every Englishman slain. Out of nowhere, a sword caught his arm, causing his grip on his horse's reins to falter. The horse panicked, causing the cart to careen sideways on the rickety bridge. The chariot slammed into the side of the bridge, sending Ivar over the edge. He had but a moment to see the clouded sky overhead, before falling into the churning river.

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The calm quiet of the glade was an illusion. The plush green moss underfoot, the soft rushing of the river, the clear blue sky. By all accounts, it was a peaceful day. But the muddied red river and corpses along the banks betrayed that notion.

 A lone figure picked through the woods, a piebald horse trailing after her a few paces behind. She laughed as the horse would pause to chomp at the occasional green leaf. The horse would toss his head, annoyed, when she would urge him forward with a click of her tongue. He would take his revenge by nibbling at her chestnut brown hair in defiance. Legs encased in sturdy leather leggings, her torso covered by a thick band topped with animal fur. Her boots were soft and pliant; she didn't make a sound as she scanned the grounds for various plants.

 She paused when coming upon the bloody scene. She hitched her herb basket higher up on her back before squatting to inspect the closest body. The chain mail and metalwork of his armor pointed to a soldier of Lord Aldrich. She curled her lip in distaste; she had run-ins with his men before. Her family was not welcome to the ‘civilized’ English. She scavenged his corpse, searching for anything of use. When she found nothing, she moved on to the next. The leather armor was similar to what her people wore but thicker and heavy with metal studs. These men were not her kin, nor Alrich’s. They were someone new.

 While towns did not appeal to her, they were a great source of news. She heard the whispers of the elders, as they discussed the possible allies or enemies. Northmen, they were called. The heathen monsters from across the sea; known for pillaging, killing, wearing their enemies blood like warpaint. Something most parents would tell children to frighten them to stay close to home. Much like the tales that surrounded her kin. But this scene proved they were human and bled, like all men.

 She made her way to each of the bodies, picking over each one. She found very little, refusing to take any of the adornments of the unknown warriors. If they were fighting with her clan’s enemies, they deserved the courtesy of not being picked over like carrion. She found a dagger tucked into a waterlogged belt. It was well made and would be easy for her to wield. She stood and brushed off her knees, not wanting to linger when a groan caught her attention. Brandishing the purloined knife, her eyes darted around to find the source.

 As the groan reverberated again, she pinpointed its source to a fallen log. The enormous oak was half-submerged under the river. The tree's limbs acted like a sieve to catch anything in the river’s current. Wedged in the branches was a body. Curiosity winning out against sense, the woman wadded into the water, following the sound. She tossed the debris aside, revealing a young man, pale but breathing. He had blood clotting at his temple and a nasty gash on his shoulder. He wasn’t one of Aldrich’s men that was certain. His braided hair was decorated with beadwork and his armor matching that of the Northmen. She kneeled, the cold water lapping at her thighs, and reached out to trace his brow. He was young, no wrinkles but a few silvery white scars spaced apart on his skin, most likely from battle. He was a handsome sort, and no doubt a person of importance, if his stylized armor was to go by. She was so focused on her appraisal that she didn’t see him move until it was too late.

 Pain shot up her arm, her wrist held in a bruising grip.

 “Hvem er du?” his voice growled out. 

 Although his language was unfamiliar, his gravel-toned voice made her shudder. His forceful tone and his grip were intimidating, but the bright blue eyes staring drew her in. Steeling herself, she wrenched her wrist away and reached for the dagger at her waist. The warrior was quicker and had her dagger against her throat in a flash.

 “Hvem er du!” he yelled, the blade demanding against her skin. He trembled and blinked, his eyes unfocusing. He was weak and close to falling unconscious again.

 She leaned into the blade, the metal cutting her flesh. He stared at the blood trickling down her next, before bringing his piercing blue eyes back to hers.

 “Elda,” she introduced, taking the knife from his weakening grip and putting his hand on her chest.

 “Ivar,” he mumbled before his head lolled forward. Elda stood up, tucking the knife back into her waistband. He was strong, that was certain. And if half of his men were as strong as he, perhaps her family’s future would not be so bleak. Decision made, she whistled, and her horse plodded closer, whinnying at his owner.

 “Come closer Paega, you coward. I’m not carrying this man back to the hut alone.” He tossed his mane and snorted.

 “Fine,” she huffed, hefting Ivar as well as she was able. He was heavier than she expected, his upper body strong under his leathers. She clicked her tongue at her horse, and he kneeled, allowing Elda to drape the man over his back. Paega straightened up, dancing a bit in place to get used to the weight on his back.

 “Come on now boy, let’s get back home.”

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

 The trek back to her camp took Elda longer than anticipated. While Paega had a smooth gait, picking through the woods caused the rouncey to stumble at times. She tried to take it slow so as to not aggravate the Northman’s injuries. She would be disappointed if he died after the trouble of getting him out of the river.

 Elda crested a hill and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her camp. The wood and thatched roof were modest, but it was hers. The small hut was nestled in a glade surrounded by rocky outcroppings. It had some supplies and a lean-to barn for Paega. The hut itself was sparse, a single room with only one wall. But it was enough for her when she was away from home and needed a safe refuge.

 The young woman was able to get Ivar inside with some effort, with Paega all but dumping the Northman onto the wood. After his victorious delivery, the chestnut horse busied himself with a bucket of hay.

 The brunette stretched, her back sore from hauling the unconscious man across her threshold. For now, Ivar lay on a bedroll fashioned from furs. Elda collected supplies, herbs, and clean linen dressings and a bowl of water. She arranged them next to the bedroll. The next step would be to undress him. Elda knelt next to his prone form, her fingers attempting to undo all the buckles and straps. She eyed the strange metal skeleton encasing his legs but passed on trying to figure it out. His shoulder was the priority. Each layer she set aside until skin slick with blood revealed itself.

 Ivar wasn’t the first man or boy she’d seen shirtless. Her skills as a healer had her seeing many people at stages of undress. Ivar was no boy. His upper body was all sinewy muscles and scattered scars. Elda allowed herself a moment to gaze at the ink adorning his shoulders, wondering what deeds he had completed to earn them or if he had more. Shaking her head, she turned her attention to the gash on his arm. It spanned his bicep to his shoulder, deep, but not fatal. The blood loss combined with the cold water of the river led to his current state. She cleaned the wound, first with water to wash away any dirt, and then again with an herbal rinse. If it was painful, only the slightest twitch from her charge betrayed that. Needle and thread in hand, she closed the angry wound with even, small stitches. It would scar, but what was another in his already impressive collection. Ivar grunted in his delirium and opened his eyes.

 He panicked sluggishly, attempting to push Elda away.

 “Stop Ivar,” she chided, pushing his arm back down with a firm hand. Even in his state, he was almost strong enough to toss her aside. Elda braced his head and brought an earthenware bowl to his lips, water for his parched mouth. He slurped at the bowl, causing him to cough when he took too much. She pulled the bowl from his mouth, even though he groaned in disappointment.

 A poultice was next, fresh cloth steeped in warm water and herbs. Goldenrod to stop the bleeding. Garlic to prevent infection. Feverfew to keep him from falling to fever. With the remedy placed on his arm, and then wrapped tight, Elda turned her trained eyes on the rest of him. The gash on his temple was superficial but she cleaned and treated it nonetheless. Ivar watched her through half-lidded eyes, not trusting Elda. She didn’t see any more wounds aside from a few scrapes and bruises on his top half, so she reached for his legs.

 “No!” he half roared/half slurred, sitting up to push her hands away. Elda jerked at his outburst, knocking over her bowl. The bloody water splashed across the wood, soaking into the furs. She cursed and stood up.

 “Ungrateful ass!” Elda couldn’t help the irritation coloring her tone. She gathered her supplies as Ivar groaned, clutching his shoulder.

 “Lay still, else you will undo all of my hard work. And I refuse to stitch you up again,” she said, pushing the stubborn warrior back down. He grunted but allowed Elda to arrange the bedding.

 Within moments, Ivar seemed to either fall asleep or unconscious. To be fair, she normally wouldn’t care, he wasn't one of her people. But the elders had a vested interest in the Northmen. After all, the enemy of their enemy is their friend. Or at least their potential ally. She stood and walked to Paega who had finished his meal and nibbled at her pants looking for more.

 She laughed, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders. Paega was a gift from her father when he realized he couldn't stop her wandering. A sure-footed horse to help her escape should she run into trouble. Over the years, Paega had become her constant companion, seeming to know what she was feeling.

 “Is this a foolish idea sweet boy?” she asked the horse, who nickered in response. Elda stroked his nose, the velvety skin of his nose soft against her hands.

 Now all she had to do was get her charge to Valkwind without running into Lord Alrich’s men. Or any Northmen who might take offense to her holding one of their own. She could only hope that he would be less combative once the fog of battle waned.

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

 Ivar awoke with a start and immediately reached for his weapon, which was not at his side. He was without a shirt and winced when his shoulder pulled. He touched the bandages wrapped around his arm, sniffing the herbal scent wafted from it. The wound was stiff, but not burning with infection. The hovel he was in was little more than a lean-to with a single wall and a raised wooden floor of rough-hewn wood. There were few supplies stashed in boxes or hanging from the roof.

 His legs seemed a bit sore, but that was common. However, his leg braces showed damage. He didn’t remember much after catching the blow to his arm, but he remembered falling into the water. The metal was bent in a few places, snapped in others. Ivar cursed under his breath. He wasn't sure if they would hold if he stood, or if they'd crumble under his weight.

 A movement to his left drew his attention, and he saw a brown and white horse nosing at some of the hanging herbs.

 “Paega!” a feminine voice scolded the horse. A young woman with a pheasant in one hand and a bow around her chest. The horse seemed immune to the chastisement and took a leaf in defiance. The woman grumbled something in a language Ivar didn’t understand but patted the horse's neck. Ivar followed her every move, watching for any sign of aggression. His hands flexed, wishing he had a weapon in his grasp.

 “This north man believes me to be an enemy. Surely he’s noticed I have bandaged his wounds,” she said to the horse, turning her gaze to Ivar. While she was speaking English, her accent betrayed the fact it wasn't her first language.

 “Who are you?” he asked. The woman tilted her head at his use of English and smiled.

 “I am sure that I answered that yesterday, Ivar,” she said, with mirth in her eyes. He frowned at her flippant attitude. Did she know who she was addressing?

 “To remind you, my name is Elda,” she introduced with a little bow. Ivar bristled.  Was she mocking him?

 “Where are my men? Where am I?”

 “The alive ones, I do not know. The dead ones, several leagues to the south. It is where I found you, after all. Half-dead. Gratitude would be appropriate,” Elda said with a nod to his shoulder. She took a seat at the edge of the hut and began plucking the feathers with efficient movements. Instead of thanking her, Ivar huffed and reached for his shirt. He twisted his body to reach it and did not see her eyes widen at the design inked on his back.

 “You will take me back to my camp,” he ordered, pulling the shirt over his head with a wince.

 “I will not,” she retorted, continuing her plucking. “I do not know where your camp is located, nor do I wish to run into Aldrich’s men.”

 At the mention of his enemy, Ivar studied the woman. She didn’t seem like the typical English woman. No long swishing skirts, her hair wasn't coiffed but pulled into a loose braid. He admired the way her leather leggings clung to her hips. Elda reminded him of a shield maiden of his people, but less refined. She wore no gold adornments, her few pieces of jewelry made of polished stones or carved bone.

 “Aldrich is lord of these lands, yet you speak his name with contempt,” he said, zeroing in on the knife at her hip. If he could get it away from her, he could make his way back to his men. He did not relish losing his command to his brothers.

 “Lord of these lands, pah,” she said with disgust. “My people have been here for generations, long before Lord Aldrich deemed it his.” She pulled the last stubborn feathers out with a vicious yank and set the bird down.

 “And who are your people?” he asked with veiled interest.

 She looked amused at the question.

 “My people? If you were to ask our enemies, we are the uncivilized heathens who spurn their ‘God’, commune with nature spirits, and snatch their children to drink their blood.”

 At this Ivar grinned. Such stories were familiar, after all his reputation was similar.

 “Is there truth to the stories?”

 Elda smiled and pulled her knife out of its sheath. She tapped the knife against the pheasant.

 “We don’t drink children’s blood. Why waste the whole child?”

 Ivar laughed at her jape.

 Elda methodically slid the knife through the bird's flesh, pulling the meat from the bones. Ivar had to admit, her knife skills were impressive. He could only imagine what she could do against her enemies, slicing through skin with deft precision.

 She finished butchering the bird and set the knife aside. She stood up and made her way to the small cookfire outside the hut. While Elda focused on skewering the meat to cook, Ivar palmed the knife, tucking it under his sleeve. He couldn’t believe the foolishness of the woman. She had no idea who she was dealing with and her ignorance would be her downfall.

 While she tended to the cookfire, Ivar formulated a plan. He would catch her off guard, and demand she take him back to the battlefield under threat of death. From there, he would be able to find his way back to his camp. He’d take her as a thrall. She had skills as a healer, and she was striking to look at. His brothers would be jealous of his captive.

 Elda’s voice cut into his thoughts.

 “Are you planning to use that knife before or after I finish cooking? I would ask that you wait until after I've eaten.”

 Ivar looked up to see Elda watching him with a knowing grin. He bristled, angry at himself for being caught and for the smug look on her face.

 “You could have killed me the moment my back was turned, yet you did not move from the bedroll. So you are waiting. For what I wonder?”

 She stood up, brushing dirt off her knees.

 “For me to come closer? You would not let me check your legs for injuries. Perhaps you are injured.” Elda watched Ivar for any reaction to her questions. His strange leg armor wasn’t anything she’d seen before.

 “Well, Northman? Are you going to kill me? Steal my horse? Somehow find your way back to your men? Without running into Aldrich’s?” she asked, before holding a skewer just out of Ivar’s reach.

 “Or you can eat, ride with me to my family, and have an ally in these lands?” She approached him and straddled his legs, kneeling on either side of his hips. Her thighs brushed his, as she kept her weight off him. She was so close, that he could drive the knife into her neck with ease. Fearless, he had to give it to her. This woman had more balls than most of his men.

 Ivar clamped down on the irritation that was bubbling up at the gall of the woman. While he did not take orders from anyone, she had a point. This land was unknown to him and he was without the support of his men. It riled him to be exposed like this, armed only with the pilfered knife. And that self-satisfied smile. She knew she was his best option. Even if he did kill her, he wasn’t sure if he could even get on her horse, let alone ride it to find his camp. For now, it would be in his best interest to at least follow the strange woman’s lead. He could always kill her later if he so chose.

 He spun the knife in his hand before tucking it into her belt. He ran his hand along her waist to her arm. His hand circled her wrist and he could feel her heartbeat through her pale skin. It was quick and that fact excited him. Yet as calm she seemed on the surface, she was still nervous. Ivar brought her hand up to his face and took a bite out of the skewered meat. The meat tore easily and juices ran down his chin.

 “How far is it to your family’s land?”

[elriell]

Book Rec’s

Going to try and add a lot of less known books that are amazing and not enough people talk about, this would be too long if I talked about each one in depth, so I am going to leave my fav quotes as that tends to give me a feel for books and whether I will like them and I will link the GR page for more info! Happy reading:)

Fantasy Vibes

From Blood And Ash by Jennifer L Armentrout    (CLICK THIS TOO)

“Death is like an old friend who pays a visit, sometimes when it’s least expected and other times when you’re waiting for her. It’s neither the first nor the last time she’ll pay a visit, but that doesn’t make any death less harsh or unforgiving.”

“Fear and bravery are often one and the same. It either makes you a warrior or a coward. The only difference is the person it resides inside.”

 “You're an absolutely stunning, murderous little creature.”

Storm And Fury by Jennifer L Armentrout

“What are you going to do if it does get worse?” he asked. “Maybe I’ll get myself a seeing-eye gargoyle.”

(HONESTLY BADASS GARGOYLES. SO UNIQUE AND AWESOME)

Demons At Deadnight by A&E Kirk   

“I launched into a graceful ninja-like front roll, then stood my ground to face the monstrous heathen, fearless in my determination to vanquish the deadly foe.

Nah, just kidding. I bolted, discretion being the better part of not getting dead.”

“We are killers,” Matthias said. Bad news. 

“Not girls. We don’t kill girls.” Good news. 

“She’s no girl.” Insulting news? 

“What? Of course she’s a girl.”

 “Want me to check?” 

“Shut up, Blake,” the rest of them chorused.”

The Cruel Prince by Holly Black   

“If I cannot be better than them, I will become so much worse.”

“If you hurt me, I wouldn't cry. I would hurt you back.”

“I am going to keep on defying you. I am going to shame you with my defiance. You remind me that I am a mere mortal and you are a prince of Faerie. Well, let me remind you that means you have much to lose and I have nothing. You may win in the end, you may ensorcell me and hurt me and humiliate me, but I will make sure you lose everything I can take from you on the way down. I promise you this is the least of what I can do.”

MM Romance

Him by Sabrina Bowen & Elle Kennedy

“Our mouths fit together so perfectly. Every time we kiss, I fall even more in love with him, and it has nothing to do with sex or lust. It's him. His closeness and his scent and the way he soothes me.”

“I…” He clears his throat. “I’d let you do it, though.” My hand freezes in his hair. “You would?” Wes nods. “I’d let you do anything to me, Canning.”

Misfits by Garrett Leigh (Poly romance, its just so perfect ala herongraystairs!)

“Learn something. Read a book. Explore someone. Anger is just a hole where your life could be.”

In The Absence Of Light by Adrienne Wilder

“The light is a funny thing, Grant. We think it shows us what we need to see, but in reality, it blinds us. That’s why I brought you here. I wanted you to see me.”

“Morgan may be autistic, but he is a normal man with a mental condition, not a mental condition who is a man.”

HOneStly JUST READ IT

The Foxhole Court by Nora Sakavic

“It’s not the world that’s cruel. It’s the people in it.”

“I'm not a math problem." "But I'll still solve you."

“Is your learning curve a horizontal line?”

“Who said 'please' that made you hate the word so much?"  Andrew gazed at him in silence for a minute. "I did.”

“I didn't think I was a personal problem. You hate me, remember?" "Every inch of you," Andrew said. "That doesn't mean I wouldn't blow you." 

EVERY QOUTE IS ICONIC TBH 

Vampires, Angels & Greek Mythology

Bloodlines by Michelle Read

“The greatest changes in history have come when people were able to shake off what others told them to do.”

“Takes a lot of tries before you hit perfection." He paused to reconsider that. "Well, except for my parents. They got it on the first try."

“No, thank you," said Adrian. "These hands don't sully themselves with fighting.”

“Everything's about my personal entertainment. The world is my stage. Keep it up- you're becoming a star performer in the show.”

Angels Blood by Nalini Singh

“Some things were worth the dance with danger.”

“You do realize this makes your wings even more unique." "Are you saying you shot me as a cosmetic procedure?”

“You ask a lot of questions for a dead woman.” “What can I say? I prefer to die well-informed.”

“You don't fear me," he said now. She wasn't stupid enough to lie. "I'm petrified. But I figure you didn't make me come all this way just so you could push me off the roof.”

Dark Lover by J.R Ward (warning OTT vamps if thats not your jazz either skip)

“Some bridges you crossed on your own, no matter who drove you to the edge”

“Vengeance was one hell of a roommate.”

Half-Blood by Jennifer L Armentrout

“Two people see each other across a room or their skin brushes. Their souls recognize the person as their own. It doesn’t need time to figure it. The soul always knows… whether it’s right or wrong.”

“It’s just words and words mean nothing. Only action does.”

“People do the damndest things when they’re in love.”

“There is a difference between love and need. Sometimes, what you feel is immediate and without rhyme or reason.”

Assasin-y Goodness

Grave Mercy by Robin LaFevers

“When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.”

“I comfort myself with the knowledge that if Duval ever feels smothered by me, it will be because I am holding a pillow over his face.”

“Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.”

“There is no shame in scars, Ismae.”

Daughter Of The Pirate King by Tricia Levenseller

“I am me because I choose to be me. I am what I want. Some people say you have to find yourself. Not I. I believe we create ourselves to be what we want.”

“Lass, you've the face of an angel but the tongue of a snake.”

“Everyone has something dark in their past. I suppose it's our job to overcome it. And if we can’t overcome it, then all we can do is make the most of it.”

“Waiting. Not waiting. One lover. A hundred lovers. There should be no judgement either way. A woman is not defined by what she does or doesn‘t do in the bedroom.”

“Even a man who’s spent his whole life at sea has reason to fear her when she’s angry. But not I. I sleep soundly. Listening to her music. The sea watches over me. She protects her own.”

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

“No mourners. No funerals. Among them, it passed for 'good luck.”

“It's not natural for women to fight." "It's not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall, and yet there you stand.”

“I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.

“The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true.”

“Kaz leaned back. "What's the easiest way to steal a man's wallet?" "Knife to the throat?" asked Inej. "Gun to the back?" said Jesper. "Poison in his cup?" suggested Nina. "You're all horrible," said Matthias.”

The Kiss of Deception by Mary E. Pearson

“It can take years to mold a dream. It takes only a fraction of a second for it to be shattered.”

“Taking another life, she had whispered, even a guilty one, should never be easy. If it were, we'd be little more than animals.”

“Maybe there was no one way to define it. Maybe there were as many shades of love as the blues of the sky,”

“We all have our different skills. You’re patient to a fault, which sometimes doesn’t work to your advantage. I, on the other hand, have the patience of a wet cat. Only on rare occasions does that come in handy.”

“Maybe there were a hundred different ways to fall in love.”

Circus Vibes

Caraval by Stephanie Garber

“Every person has the power to change their fate if they are brave enough to fight for what they desire more than anything.”

“She imagined loving him would feel like falling in love with darkness, frightening and consuming yet utterly beautiful when the stars came out.”

“Some things are worth pursuit regardless of the cost.”

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

“You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone's soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows that they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift.”

“Secrets have power. And that power diminishes when they are shared, so they are best kept and kept well. Sharing secrets, real secrets, important ones, with even one other person, will change them. Writing them down is worse, because who can tell how many eyes might see them inscribed on paper, no matter how careful you might be with it. So it's really best to keep your secrets when you have them, for their own good, as well as yours.”

Six of Hearts by L.H Cosway

“Note to self: Never try to out-trick a trickster.”

“So why not live with the magic? Be a kid again and believe in the fantastical. Life is more fun with a little smoke and mirrors.”

“We all have thoughts that we would never, ever vocalise. And people who say they don’t are liars.”

“I once read that people who have imaginary friends never reach out to touch them. There’s some part of their brain that subconsciously knows it will break the spell. That’s what it feels like with Jay.”

Amour Amour by Krista & Becca Richie

“We all traverse in and out of people’s worlds, leaving footprints. Some larger, some smaller, but there is always a mark. We can’t sweep it away.”

“Life is a rollercoaster with no volunteers. We’re all forced to take a seat and ride it out.

“I’m average. I’ve been average most of my life, but there are moments where I feel extraordinary. Invincible. Able to conquer any fear and step outside any box. There is no illusion, no fantasy. I can climb a forty-foot pole. I can fly eighty-feet in the air. I can be taller than tall. It’s a dream that I’m living. Every day. With him.”

More M/M Romance

The Song Of Achilles by Madeline Miller

“I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”

“And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone.”

“He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature.”

“He is half of my soul, as the poets say.”

Axel’s Pup by Kim Dare  (Shifter Romance & BDSM FYI if thats not your jazz)

"I want to screw you, and tie you up, and make you writhe from-you know all that. But I want so much more. I want the whole thing, not just a quick scene. I want twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I want you to be mine. I won't take anything less."

Aristotle And Dante Discover The Secrets Of The Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

“In your dream. You were looking for me.""I'm always looking for you," 

“He was funny and focused and fierce. I mean the guy could be fierce. And there wasn’t anything mean about him. I didn’t understand how you could live in a mean world and not have any of that meanness rub off on you.”

“He looked like an angel. And all I wanted to do was put my fist through his jaw. I couldn't stand my own cruelty.”

“One of the secrets of the universe was that our instincts were sometimes stronger than our minds. Another secret of the universe: Sometimes pain was like a storm that came out of nowhere.”

Shattered Glass by Dani Alexander

"Tell me something good about your life," I whispered, needing to hear that he wasn't as broken as I thought him to be.[...]"You." It was so quiet I almost didn't hear it.”

“Is he my competition?” I asked. “Everyone is your competition.” Peter lifted his hand to his eyes and began lowering it incrementally. “It goes normal human beings, crazies, republicans, my hand, imaginary characters, corpses and then, in a moment of lustful psychosis, you.” By the time he was done, his hand was below the table.

Romance 

Kiss The Sky by Krista & Becca Richie

“You’re not a pit stop. You’re my finish line. There’s no one after you.”

“People hope to touch the sky. I dream of kissing it.”

“I love the way he’s staring at me. It makes me feel more than just beautiful. I feel like I’m his. Like no one else could possibly compare to me. He doesn’t even have to say the words. I see it in his eyes. I can practically read it in his mind.”

“I’ve wanted so many things in life,” he says softly, “but you’re the one that has meant the most to me.”

Translation: I love you.”

Wallbanger by Alice Clayton

“You know those moments when everything is exactly the way it was meant to be? When you find yourself and your entire universe aligning in perfect synchronization, and you know you couldn’t possibly be more content? I was inside that very moment, and fully conscious of it.”

“The right woman for you wouldn't want you to change anything about your life. She wouldn't rock your boat, she'd jump right in and sail it with you.”

“It breaks my heart the way young girls pick themselves over, never thinking they're good enough. You make sure you always remember, you're exactly the way you're supposed to be. Exactly. And anyone who says otherwise, well, poppycock.”

Ugly Love by Colleen Hoover

“Ugly love becomes you. Consumes you. Makes you hate it all. Makes you realize that all the beautiful parts aren't even worth it. Without the beautiful, you'll never risk feeling the ugly. So you give it all up. You give it all up. You never want love again, no matter what kind it is, because no type of love will ever be worth living through the ugly love again.”

“Some people they grow wiser as they grow older. Unfortunately, most people just grow older.”

“Sometimes the spirit of a man isn't strong enough to survive the ghosts of his past”

“My grandfather used to say the placement of a birthmark was the story of how a person lost the battle in their past life. I guess you got stabbed in the neck. Bet it was a quick death, though.”

On Dublin Street by Samantha Young

“Gentlemen are gentlemen in bed. They make sure you're having a good time." "I'll make sure you're having a good time, and that you're okay with everything. I just won't be well mannered about it.”

“In truth it’s difficult to describe a broken heart.”

“Sometimes words aren’t needed for you to know a change has come upon you.”

Romance Series

Paper Princess by Erin Watt

“My skill, if I have one, isn’t dancing. It’s my ability to believe that tomorrow can be a better day.”

“My life is mine. I live it. I control it.”

“but a clean knife still makes a painful wound.”

“Fate is for the weak--those people who don't have enough power or will to shape life into what they need it to be.”

Foreplay by Sophie Jordan

“I’m not going to lie to you and convince you that I’m someone good and shiny like your guy that’s going to be a doctor.”

“You can’t even see it. I’m the safest thing you’ll ever find”

“That's what I wanted. Something to enrich me, to make me feel better about the things in my life that I could never change."

Wait for You by J.Lynn.  (AKA Jennifer L Armentrout) 

“You are really…” “Amazing? Awesome?” He paused, brows raised. “Astonishing?” “I was going to go with bizarre.” “Well, hell, if I had feelings that might actually hurt.”

“As long as the sun’s shining, shit can’t be that bad.”

The Deal by Elle Kennedy

“Sometimes people sneak up on you and suddenly you don’t know how you ever lived without them.”

“I want to murder him in his sleep, A. No, I want to murder him when he’s awake so he can see the joy on my face when I do it.”

“And the most important lesson I learned is that I’m not a victim—I’m a survivor.”

Romance w/ Epic Plots

The Unbecoming Of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin

“This was the boy I loved. A little bit messy. A little bit ruined. A beautiful disaster. Just like me.”

“You could start a fire with the heat between you two.""You're mistaking bitter animosity for heartfelt affection.”

“You're supposed to say, 'All I want is your happiness. I'll do whatever it takes, even if it means being without you.'""Sorry," Noah said. "I'm just not that big of a person.”

“I’ll walk forever with stories inside me that the people I love the most can never hear.”

“We are far too screwed up for a goddamned love triangle.”

“You will love him to ruins.”

The Winners Curse by Marie Rutkoski

“He knew the law of such things: people in brightly lit places cannot see into the dark.”

“Isn’t that what stories do, make real things fake, and fake things real?”

“The Winner’s Curse is when you come out on top of the bid, but only by paying a steep price.”

“The god of lies must love you, you see things so clearly.”

Obsidian by Jennifer L Armentrout (are you getting the idea I love everything she writes? because I do!)

“I've always found that the most beautiful people, truly beautiful inside and out, are the ones who are quietly unaware of their effect."

“More books." His eyes went wide. "You have, like, them books you just said you haven't read." "Doesn't mean I won't get more books."

Angelfall by Susan Ee

“I never thought about it before, but I'm proud to be human. We're ever so flawed. We're frail, confused, violent, and we struggle with so many issues. But all in all, I'm proud to be a Daughter of Man.”

“Sometimes, as we're stumbling along in the dark, we hit something good.”

“I knew from the start that your loyalty would get you killed. I just never thought it would be your loyalty to me that would do it.”

Unique Reads

Dont Look Back by Jennifer L Armentrout

“I was stuck in a life I didn't remember, squeezed into the shell of this girl - this Samantha Joe Franco - and the more I learned about her, the more I was starting to hate her.”

“Things aren’t perfect. They are far, far from it,but they are getting there, and I wasn’t looking back. Not when there were so many good things in the future.”

Verity by Colleen Hoover

“I wasn’t heroic. I wasn’t simple. I was difficult. An emotionally challenging puzzle he wasn’t up for solving.”

“A writer should never have the audacity to write about themselves unless they’re willing to separate every layer of protection between the author’s soul and their book. The words should come directly from the center of the gut, tearing through flesh and bone as they break free. Ugly and honest and bloody and a little bit terrifying, but completely exposed.”

“No one is likable from the inside out.”

“Find what you love and let it kill you.”

Painted Faces by L.H Cosway

“We all paint on a face to show the world," Nicholas replies philosophically. "For some of us, that's quite literal.”

“I love him because he makes me laugh when I don't feel like laughing. I love him because he challenges my view of what a man is. I love him because I know I shouldn't love him and that he'll break my heart. I love him because he's a complete and total anomaly. I love him because I want to kill the sadness inside him more than I want anything else in the world.”

“You saw me, changed my life, made it better, and I’m completely fucking in love with you.”

Sorcery of Thorns by Margret Rogerson

“It was always wise to be polite to books, whether or not they could hear you.”

“Knowledge always has the potential to be dangerous. It is a more powerful weapon than any sword or spell.”

“When terrible things have happened to you, sometimes the promise of something good can be just as frightening.”

“You belonged in the library, as much as any book.”

“You unmanageable, contrary creature. You have made me believe in something at last. It feels as wretched as I imagined.”

Obviously not every book is going to suit everyone, everyone has pet peeves, and things that they won’t enjoy but hopefully this gives you some variety and I personally loved them all at some point! Pls feel free to come to my ask/chats to discuss any of them  that would make me so happy <3 this took 4 hours damn

[timeforelfnonsense]

Under the Light of the Moon (Updated)

Dafni x Astarion 

Rating: E 

Ao3

I’ve been reworking some of the first fics I wrote for these two now that I have a better idea of their relationship. I’ve updated them on Ao3 but there was some interest in me reposting them here as well!  

Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series 

The tiefling’s fireworks boomed overhead, filling the sky with shimmering lights of gold and silver. Dafni smiled to herself, soaking up the feelings of splendor and revelry that swirled all around her. Their merriment danced across her skin like a warm summer breeze and filled her chest with contentment. She closed her eyes and pictured herself back home in the Feywilds where such joy would have surely created astonishing delights that could only exist in the imaginations of those who had never basked in its splendor.

“Well, you seem quite blissful!” A pretty tiefling spoke, “I hope I’m not bothering you. I just wanted to say thank you-.” She paused, “Is that umm normal for you?”

Dafni blinked a few times allowing herself to float back down to reality. She followed the bard’s eyes down to her feet where a small patch of flowers had begun to bloom.  “Oh! Yes!” Dafni assured, taking the other woman’s hands in her own. “Sorry! I was a bit far away just then! What were you saying?”

“Only that I wanted to thank you.”

“Oh! You don’t need to thank me Alfira! I was happy to help!”

“You remembered my name?” Alfira said, her eyes lighting up as a beaming smile formed on her lips.

“Of course! I sang with you in the grove!” Dafni gave her hands a little squeeze, “You have a beautiful voice.”

A deep plum blush spread across Alfira’s cheeks as she babbled a thank you. Dafni had that effect on people, charming and beguiling them as effortlessly as breathing. It wasn’t something she did on purpose. It was simply the way the gods made her. She craved closeness and affection from those around her more than most. She had been brought up by a serious, if not dotting mother who tirelessly protected her from those who would seek to take advantage of her kind heart. As well as a clan of ‘sisters’ with whom she had shared her every thought and confidence. To Dafni tenderness and trust were simply the way of things and she had carried that sensibility with her into the Material.

“Don’t look,” Alfira leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “but, that man is staring at you rather intently.”

“What man!?” Dafni squealed, “Where?! What does he look like!”

Dafni began to bounce on her heels as she battled the urge to follow Alfira’s stare. She, like so many of the fey, found herself rather enchanted by flattery and adoration. A dashing stranger admiring her from across a party was a positively delightful prospect.

“He’s an elven man, very fair in complexion. He has handsome features but he looks a bit...Intense. I think I saw him with you at the grove?”

Astarion?

Her heart skipped a few beats. She’d always thought him rather attractive- Princely even. With his strong cheekbones and a sharp jaw. And those ruby-red eyes, teeming with unanswered questions. There was a delicious danger about him as well. She should have found his vampiric nature ghastly and frightening, but it only added to his wicked charms. She certainly wanted him but he could be a hard book to read. On one hand, he was always chiding her for ‘unnecessary acts of kindness’. On the other, he’d nearly kissed her that day on the riverbank. And the night she’d allowed him to drink from her he had held her with such affection but she’d attributed that to some sort of vampire feeding behavior rather than attraction. The curiosity became too much for Dafni to bear. He was leaning against a tree drinking wine straight from the bottle. It seemed Astarion was indeed her admirer after all. Her cheeks went hot as they clapped eyes on each other. With a smirk, he mouthed a silent ‘hello’.

He heard the lyrical chime of Dafni’s laughter from the other side of camp. She threw her head back, sending her lovely pink curls tumbling down her shoulders. Flowers sprung up at her bare feet and butterflies with wigs of faerie fire fluttered around her. She had traded her armor for a nearly transparent dress that left precious little to the imagination. He could hardly look away. She had an exquisite figure, softer than most elves, plump and curvaceous. It was as if she had intended to tease and tempt him, prancing around in next to nothing. A gentle breeze blew through her hair and filled his lungs with the familiar aroma of lilac and evening primrose.

His mouth watered at the thought of sinking his teeth back into her once more. The memory of her fingers laced through his hair, pulling him closer, inviting him to drink deeper, was still fresh in his mind. He’d thought about bedding her plenty of times after they met but, they had been little more than idle fantasies. But, since that first taste, he found his imagination wandering towards the debaucherous more and more often when she was around.

“Enjoying your party, Daffodil?” He asked, taking a long drink of his wine as she bounded towards him, “Would you like some? It tastes awful but please, help yourself.”

“It’s OUR party!” She corrected, “You shouldn’t be over here sulking alone!”

She shook her head, rose curls bouncing as she snatched the bottle for a nip. He couldn’t help but smile as she screwed up her nose when she swallowed. No, red wine wouldn’t be her drink would it? Too heavy and bitter. She’d like something sweeter. Floral maybe? Just like her.

“See. Awful! You know, I never pictured myself as a hero. Never thought I’d be the one they toasted for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…” He paused for just a moment before scrunching his nose up in disgust, “I hate it. This is awful.”

“You did a good thing!” She scolded, “You deserve to enjoy yourself.”

He scoffed, giving her a dismissive wave, “I just would have liked more for my trouble than a pat on the head and vinegar for wine. I’m just looking for a little more excitement. A little more fun.”

“You should attend a party in the Feywilds sometime.” She suggested, “They can go on for days at a time! Especially if a satyr is involved in the planning!”

“That does sound more exciting. This drawl gathering could do with a little more heathenism. You know, we could always make our own entertainment, darling. Get a little closer so to speak.” There it was. He needed to have her. Why deny it any longer? He’d been cautious and calculated but the craving for her never stopped. He looked her over from toe to tip, drinking in her beauty with unapologetic want.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean?”  Her pink eyelashes fluttered over winsome topaz eyes. Her slender fingers tucking a stray hair behind his ear.

He stared at her dumbfounded. Was she really that innocent? He thought he’d made it clear he was interested? Perhaps she’d never been propositioned before, though he doubted that. She was a fetching little enchantress. It was impossible that he was the first to take note of her grace and charm.

“By the Hells! Sex, my dear.”

“Oh? Is that what you are after?” A mischievous grin formed on her perfect lips. “Well maybe if you say please.”

“What?” He couldn’t help the keenness in his voice.

“Say please,” Dafni repeated, her tone was honey-sweet.

Her head tilted to the side allowing her hair to slip from her shoulder and expose her neck. She took a step closer, closing the space between them. His breath caught in his throat as he struggled to swallow a low moan as she caressed him over his breeches. It seemed sweet, angelic, Daffodil was not quite the innocent maiden after all. A delicious turn of events. Her other hand wound its way through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down to her. Her lips were petal-soft against his as she pulled him into a slow, teasing kiss. The tip of her tongue dancing across the velvet of his inner lip. Each brush of her mouth coaxing more and more desperation from him.

“Please.” He sighed between hungry kisses rocking against her palm.

“Yes.” She relented at last before placing one last, maddeningly chaste kiss on his lips, “How could I say no to such a polite request.”

“Cheeky little pup.” He purred, “ Now go on- Enjoy the rest of your party. I’ll see you later.”

He emphasized his statement with a quick squeeze of her backside that was met with a high pitched squeak. He had half mind to take her right then but surely someone would notice if they were to sneak off so early in the night. No, it seemed he would just have to wait. At least that would give him time to think of all the things he would do to her once the rest of the camp was sound asleep.

She crept softly on the balls of her feet. She could feel the excitement like electricity on the air. She was a creature of revelry at her core and the promise of a late-night romp in the woods filled her with delight. She pinched her thighs together savoring the fire growing between her legs. Cool hands wrapped around her waist drawing a frightened yelp from her lips. She felt his breath hot on her ear as he chuckled in response.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting.” He whispered pulling her closer, his hands wandering towards her chest, “Waiting since the moment I first set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”

She could tell he was grinning without having to look at his face. She could hear it in the tone of his voice. Feel it in the squeeze of his hand on her breast. She let her head fall against his chest glancing up at him with a look that was equal parts mischief and desire.

“You don’t have me yet.”

“Don’t I?” He mused. His free hand pushed up her thin dress, running up her inner thigh, “You are here. And I don’t think you want to talk.” She bit down on her lip holding back a whimper as she felt his cool hand cup her core. “I think you want to be known. To be tasted. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To lose yourself in me?”

She was lost for words all she could muster was a simple nod. She tried to squirm against his hand but he held her tight as he pulled her into a deep kiss. She could taste the wine, dry and sharp on his tongue as he ran it along the seam of her lips.  

“I thought so.” He smirked, releasing his hold on her, “But, you’ll have to say please.”

Dafni watched him as he circled her, admiring her from every angle. She considered yielding to his request for a moment...No, the urge to misbehave was far too appealing. She would give in eventually, of course! But, the thought of reaction was far too sublime to not test the waters.

“Make me.”

He tisked, shaking his head at her rebellious reply. A fearsome look danced across his features. He flashed her his teeth, fangs on full display as a playful growl rumbled in his chest. In one fast movement, he picked her up, throwing her legs around his waist. She clung to him for dear life as she felt her feet leave the ground.  

She was infuriating, that little minx. She seemed to know all the ways to rile him up and more than that seemed to enjoy doing it. He made quick work of that madding dress discarding the translucent, shimmering fabric to the forest floor without a care. He lifted her, pressing her back up against the trunk of a tree. She had a white knuckle clutch on his shoulder.

“I won’t drop you,” He promised.

“Are you sure? I’m a bit heavy.” A perfect blush the same color as her rosy hair covered her freckled cheeks.

“I’m sure.” He gave her thigh a reassuring squeeze. “Now where was I? Ahh- That’s right...”

He brought his head to her heaving breast listing to the rapid beating of her heart. took in a lungful of air savoring her bouquet before taking a nipple into his mouth. He reveled in the sweet mews was making. He slid a hand between her legs. His body stirred as he found even wetter than expected. He slipped a finger into her meeting no resistance. Dafni whined, grinding agent his pumping hand.

“Have you reconsidered my generous offer, Daffodil? I can feel how close you are. Just say please and I’ll give you what you need.”

She had never been one to beg but he knew what he was doing. Offering her just enough pleasure to turn her into an incoherent mess but not enough to find release. Dafni swallowed her pride at last.

“Please…”

“What?” He teased, “I don’t think I heard that? You’ll have to speak up, darling.”

“Please!” She nearly shouted, “Please let me cum, I’ll be as loud as you want just please!”

He slid another finger into her and hastened the rhythm of his touch. Dafni felt her breaths grow shorter and shorter until a long breathy cry fell from her lips. She felt relief wash over her first followed by the sensation of floating in a sea of bliss.

Her feet hit the ground with a soft thud as Astarion dropped his vice grip on her thigh. She wobbled, grabbing onto his biceps for balance. . He seemed extremely pleased with himself! Dafni stuck her tongue out at him. She pushed off the tree taking fist fulls of his shirt into her hands. She yanked him down to meet her hungry kiss before he could make any smug remarks about her begging.

“You have far too many clothes on.”

He wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up splayed out in the dirt. It had all happened rather quickly after she stripped him down to nothing. He found himself struggling to care, however. All that mattered was the feeling of Dafni’s wet slit sliding over his throbbing cock. He grabbed her hips controlling her tempo. She leaned forwards nipping at his collarbone. He groaned as she ran her tongue along the faint imprint of her teeth. A moonlight garden had begun to spring up around them, snowdrops, jasmine, and in her hair delicate white and pink daffodils.  

“You had me fooled,” He moaned, “I thought perhaps, you were still a maiden.”

She laughed, throwing her head back, “Are you disappointed?”

“Hardly” He scoffed, “I don’t think a maiden would be quite as- Ah! Skilled…” His hips jerked upwards causing Dafni’s curves to bounce sinfully.

“Ok enough teasing.” She said with a peal of silvery laughter.

She stretched her arms overhead grinding into him once more before pulling her hair to the side baring her neck. The ravenous sound Astarion made sent a jolt of pleasure zipping through her body. His eyes wide with disbelief, he seemed almost flustered by the gesture, the whisper of a pink blush spreading across his nose to the very tips of his ears. She couldn’t help the gentle smile that tugged at her lips. It was strange to see him this way, with a worried brow and puppy dog eyes. He nuzzled against the hollow of her throat. Placing a lingering kiss over the faded mark of his teeth.

He took her by the shoulders, flipping her onto her back. In one push he hilted himself. Dafni cried out, lifting her hips to meet his. He felt her hands slide up his ribs, traveling ever closer to his back. He pulled back with a start on instinct, wrenching away from her loving caress. She stared at him. Worry flashed across her delicate features. He had hoped to avoid questions but his reaction seemed to have only ignited her insatiable curiosity. He took her hands pinning them over above her head and he laced his fingers through her own as he sunk his teeth into her tender flesh. A sharp exhale fell from Dafni’s lips in response. Whatever questions that she had fallen to the wayside as she writhed beneath him.

The feeling of her blood rushing through both their bodies was intoxicating. Her taste was like pomegranate, bright, and sweet. Though, her flavor was but a small part of the rapturous experience. The joyful presence that surrounded her was dizzying enough on its own but to drink from her went far beyond the playful delight simple proximity brought. She felt like every good thing he had been denied in the last two centuries. He forced himself to pull away despite his instincts begging him to take his fill. He recalled the sleepy delirium that took her the last time. A state that was far from ideal for fornication.

“You are exquisite.”   He gasped,  “ Sunlight made flesh. ”

By the Hells!

Had he said that out loud? He felt the fresh blood in his veins betrayed him, his face growing hot with embarrassment. He tried to look away from her but she reached up brushing his messy white hair away before placing a cautious hand on his mid-back.

“ I want you to look at me ”  She whispered, “ You don’t have to hide from me. Not ever .”

She ran her fingers along his spine feeling the telltale texture of marked flesh. He tensed at first but with a deep breath allowed himself to melt into her soothing touch. He was still holding back. Tucking parts of himself away from her even now. She wouldn't push him no matter how badly she wished to know his every secret. She would simply have to savor the glimpses he allowed her for now and trust he would tell her everything in his own time.

His thrust grew frantic and impassioned. She dug her heels into the base of his spine until his body was flush with her own. He bit down on his lip as he came undone spilling his seed inside her. The feeling of him pulsing inside her pushed her to her climax. A cry broke loose from her that echoed through the trees and what had started as a humble bed of flowers spread across the forest creating a lush meadow. Butterflies of pure light burst into existence.

He lay beside her in silence for a while, staring up at the stars. He felt her slide her warm hand into his own. Her hair tickled his shoulder as she scooted closer, snuggling up at his side. He kissed the top of her head. Her breathing was slow and deep. It seemed she was worn out enough sleep rather than taking her usual trance. It had been a long day. She deserved some rest. He would leave soon but he wanted to savor her for a few moments longer...

[superprincesspea]

Chapter 9: Easy Rhythm

Masterlist

For her second lesson, Rollo took Edithe to a meadow far outside of Kattegat’s walls and the walk was pleasant in the sunshine. Out here it was just the two of them and, after yesterday, she preferred it that way.

Watching Rollo fighting the other Viking had served as a stark reminder of how barbaric his people were. Her father would have never allowed such senseless violence to take place in her village. While here in Kattegat, everyone was clearly prepared to fight for their lives over any dispute which wounded their pride.

Perhaps that was why her people were slaughtered and his were still standing.  

She watched him, his eyes carefully scouring the treeline before he pulled his tunic over his head and threw it to the long grass. By now she was becoming all too accustomed to the sight of his bare chest and hardly batted an eyelid at it.

At least, that was what she told herself.

Carrying his weapons he moved across the field several paces before stopping and standing directly in line with her. Silently they watched each other, armies of one, holding down their line with the battle ground stretching between them.

Anticipation shivered along her spine, prickling the hairs on the back of her neck.

What was he doing? What was he waiting for?

After what felt like a long pause he held up his sword and beat it against his shield. Wood clattering with wood, a hollow sound on its own but it seemed to reverberate around the meadow and a scattering of birds fled to the trees.

Was he trying to frighten her? She held her sword a little tighter.

Then he began to chant, his heathen words and the clattering sword growing faster and louder. His rhythm was hypnotic, intensifying until his voice was thundering in her ears and her heart was pounding in her chest.

He was the stuff of Christian nightmares, a wild barbarian man. Tall and brutal, tattooed and fierce. Edithe couldn’t take her eyes off him even if she wanted to.

Suddenly he stopped and the tightness in her chest loosened. Why had she been holding her breath? She felt foolish now. What did she think he was going to do?

“Edithe,” he called, hitting his sword against the shield a single time, encouraging her to do the same.

She glanced around the empty field, her palms slick with nerves. Even with only Rollo there to watch, she felt strangely inhibited. It was immodest to draw such attention to herself. But he was Viking and had no regard for modesty.

“Edithe,” he repeated, encouraging her again.

Carefully, she tapped her sword to shield and he laughed, even from here she could see the way his eyes wrinkled with pleasure.

So she hit her shield again, louder this time.

“More,” he urged, unrelenting, until together their drumbeat pounded fiercely to the tune of his foreign song. The same words over and over, and after a while, she chanted it too.

“Up unto the overturned keel,

Clamber with a heart of steel,”

Their voices and the endless rhythm consumed the meadow, frightening away any creature who dared to approach their battle cry.

“Cold is the ocean’s spray,

And your death is on its way.”

Now her heart didn’t beat with fear but with excitement. All her life she had been encouraged to be gentle and obedient, quiet and thoughtful. Now she was shouting so loudly her voice could reach the very heavens. Perhaps it was immodest, but she revelled in the freedom of it.

“With maidens, you have had your way,

Each must die someday!”

When they stopped an eerie silence filled the meadow and laughter wanted to bubble freely from her lips. But she held onto it fiercely. The joy she found belonged to her, and she would not share it with him.

On silent steps, he broke from his line and began to circle her, a large circle at first but with every movement he drew closer. Crouching like a beast stalking its prey, while she stood stiff and unsure of how to hold her body, or her weapons.

Should she strike? Should she run?

Fast as lightning he slapped his sword against her rear and she yelped, quickly turning to face him.

How dare he? She seethed.

Anger fuelled her arm, her sword lashing forward to find reprisal. But her attack was surprised by his shield. The heavy impact jarred in her hand, forcing her grip to loosen and allowing her sword to fling uselessly across the field.

Cradling her hand she moved to retrieve it but the tip of Rollo’s sword pressed into her neck, halting her and proving just how quickly she could be bettered by him.

He laughed at her, his words teasing and playfully spoken yet they annoyed her just the same.

“Heathen,” she hissed and Rollo’s smile only grew brighter.

He retrieved her sword and reached for her hand, taking the time to carefully clasp her fingers around the hilt until she was holding it with more authority.

Then he moved behind her and when his arms snaked around her waist she jumped, trying to get away from him.

“No,” he laughed, holding her firm.

One hand controlled her arm, showing her how to ready her sword and swing it easily left to right. The other rested on her hip, steading her as his leg inched between her thighs, spreading her feet into a better stance.

“Good,” he praised, his lips so close to her ear that her heart skipped a beat.

She was now well aware of the way her body moulded to Rollo’s, his movements controlling hers, showing her how he danced in battle.

If she had been a man, would he have shown her this way? With his chin resting on her shoulder, his beard tickling her cheek? Certainly not.

He was taking liberties and she was not here to be his plaything.

This time when she pulled herself from his arms she did it with greater force and he allowed her freedom, smirking with mischief.

Despite his questionable methods, she composed herself far better than before and, when his sword clashed with hers, she held it steadfast.

Rollo praised her, his smile never ending.

“One day I will wipe that smile from your face,” she promised. But he seemed oblivious to her curses and the scowls she gave whenever their eyes met.  

Why did he have to take so much pleasure in teaching her? It only dampened her own enjoyment and she’d intended on finding pleasure in learning how to wield a sword. But if he enjoyed it, then she must hate it. There could be no in between.

Frustrated, she grew tired of defending herself from his slow, deliberate movements and lunged forward to attack.

He jumped away, narrowly avoiding the edge of her weapon before rewarding her effort with another sword slap to the rear.

She shrieked, pain smarting across her skin. Now she was even more determined to land at least one blow on his stupid, smirking, arrogant, heathen head. Or anything else she could hit.

She threw her shield down and grasped her sword with both hands. But it was like chasing the wind and every swing she took only brought her more humiliation and again his sword slapped her rear. Tomorrow she would be purple with bruises and he would be the same smirking heathen as before.

“I hate you!” she seethed, lashing out and missing him again.

Rollo chuckled, throwing his weapons down, his arms spread wide. He was toying with her, inviting her to try him once more. But she was in no mood to make herself look like even more of a fool. She was sore and tired and couldn’t stand the thought of making him laugh again.

She picked up her shield and began marching back towards Kattegat with purposeful strides. But with every step, she regretted being so hasty in finishing their day's lesson. Back home, she was never such a slave to her emotions, but with Rollo, it was almost impossible to contain them.

Tomorrow she would do better. She had to if she wanted to learn anything.

Luckily the next day was far more tolerable. Thanks entirely to the fact that Rollo was stung by a wasp almost immediately after they arrived in the meadow. Edithe praised God for little mercies while the big heathen cradled his sting like a child.

This time it was her turn to laugh and tease at the red lump which swelled in the centre of his chest.

“Perhaps you should wear more clothing?” she mocked, feeling smug.

He didn’t understand her words but he sulked at her lack of sympathy and that only made her smile more. Feeling in such high spirits she hardly noticed when his brooding turned into playfulness or the way his hands lingered on her body every time he found cause to touch her.

Out in the meadow, it became surprisingly easy to forget she was in Kattegat and over the next week they settled into an easy rhythm.

Rollo took her to train in the mornings and left her with Haedde for the afternoon. In the evening he’d return home and they’d sit by the fire eating supper while he talked about a number of different things. Ragnar, fishing, the God’s.

As each day passed she understood a little more of what he said but she tried not to reply or add to the conversation.

Spending time together fighting was one thing, spending time talking in the evenings was something else. Though she could not force him to leave his own house, she wouldn’t encourage his company either, even if his anecdotes sometimes piqued her interest.

When it was time to go to bed he’d strip his clothes and she would bury her face in the mattress, her eyes squeezed shut. Each night she wondered if he would reach out to violate her, but each night was the same. She’d fall asleep and wake to an empty bed and the smell of food cooking over the fire.

Except today. Today she woke at dawn and Rollo was still sleeping, his naked body spread across the bed for all to see.

For Edithe to see.

Immediately her curiosity sought only one thing and she gasped at the sight of it, squeezing her eyes shut before intrigue compelled her to look again.

A dull throb tightened in her stomach and slowly she sat up for an even better view.

His manhood rested languidly against his thigh and, though she had no basis for comparison, she thought it seemed too large to be tolerable.

Still, despite this, sinful thoughts consumed her. She was only human, she told herself. She could not control her imagination. It was natural to look and wonder and…

Under her scrutiny, it seemed to lengthen in size and thickness. Alarmed, she turned to see if Rollo was still sleeping only to find him awake.

Watching.

His eyes burning into her.

Catching her in her hour of sin.

God save her .

She tumbled from the bed in a heap before running from the bedchamber and slamming the door shut.

Her cheeks heated to unstoppable proportions. Mortified and angry at the stupid, naked heathen she shared a bed with.

“Why must you always be naked?” she shouted through the door but she didn’t want an answer to her question. She never wanted to see him again.

[bythehook]

Part Three: Repercussions

In the deepest parts of the Black Forest, where even spiders dare not tread, sat an ancient stone dwelling. Its thatched roof was worn, but sturdy, and a pipe chimney puffed smoke out into the Neverland. This house had no windows, and no sound could be heard from within or without its walls. The door was a decorative piece of magic, whose enchantment made the building invisible to anyone who passed. 

Should you stumble upon it, you would merely feel a bitter cold. Birds don’t sing in its eaves or surrounding trees; animals steer clear of it. And the only way in or out, is if the sole inhabitant allows it. Many have attempted to find where Helena lives, but the whispers of magic push them away. Depend on her mood, explorers may spend weeks lost in the wood, traveling the same, circular path. Armies could not get through this witchy stronghold.

No one could get out, either.

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

James brought a wooden plate of fruit, cheese, and bread to Helena who was lying in bed, her cloak wrapped around her loosely. The night they had spent together had been one of the most electric, carnally charged experiences he had ever had. And since it had passed, he had spent every day desperate for more.

Hook set the platter down and sat beside Helena, kicking his legs up and crossing his arms over his stomach, watching her lovingly as she brought a blackberry to her lips. James sighed contentedly and looked down at his right hand, once again transfixed at its presence.

The pair sat in silence, the captain looking back to her with a deep respect and longing in his gaze. Oh what he wouldn’t do for another glorious night in her sheets. He tipped his head back against the stone wall and sighed, tripping over his words in his mind, trying to figure out how to ask if they could go to bed again. Before the first word left his lips, Helena hopped nimbly to her feet and walked over to the single table in the room. 

“Wine, dear capitán?” she called, uncorking the wine bottle.

“God yes, I’m parched,” he said, sitting up and swinging his legs around the side of the bed. 

The deep purple wine was brought to James’ lips for him, and he took the cup happily, smiling up at Helena in adoration.

How had he spent so much of his life chasing after the demon Peter, when this angel was on the island the whole time? Nothing seemed to matter anymore; Pan, the ship, his past. Only Helena mattered.

James drank long and hard until every last drop was gone. He looked up at her, greedy for more of the sweet nectar. 

Were there a mirror in the home he’d grown to love, he would see his forget-me-not blue eyes had turned a deep shade of violet. He brightened with the glass of wine, and with it, his undying loyalty to the witch. 

“I have to go out,” Helena told him, smoothing back his rust-colored hair. It had grown since he’d first come. How, he did not know, as it had only seemed a couple of days since his arrival. The locks he normally kept sheared short had grown to hang around his shoulders. 

“Do you?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her tenderly, pressing a kiss to the center of her chest. The necklaces she wore dug into his lips as he moved along, one hand lifting her skirt. But as always, she stopped him. Helena rested her hands on his shoulders gently. 

“Yes, dear one. And soon you will have to go as well.”

“Go? Go where?” He looked up at her, a pang of fear gripping his heart. 

“You must go where all men go eventually,” she commented darkly, running her sharp nails through his hair. The words did not scare him, only the fear of her leaving him. He wrapped his arms around her tighter, resting the side of his face against her chest. 

“I’ll not leave you,” he stated firmly, as though he had a chance at defying her. If she told him to jump off Glass Peak he’d do it, only to please her. 

“It has been fun having you in my little den of hedonism. But everything has its time, Hook.” She told him, stroking his hair affectionately. “Or rather, time has everything. Tick-tock goes the clock and the world spins on, ever growing, ever expanding, ever dying, ever birthing. And if time were to stop,” her hand froze in his hair, eyes fixed somewhere far away. “So would all of we. And time on Neverland has been fixed for so long. The same story chasing its tail around the tide, always the flying boy and the pirate captain. The heathens that broke time, that broke the mother island.” 

Hook was not listening to her words, but hungrily planting kisses up the middle of her clothed breast, fingers clutching into the fabric with unrestrained desire.

“It has to end. All of it, everything. So that it can begin. And we will be so happy again, mother, just the two of us and all of the glories of the island,” Helena spoke quietly before quickly looking over her shoulder, a frown on her face. “No, I understand what you think, but I am the protector. I will not let these savages molest your shores and pervert your purpose.” Helena's ears pinkened, hearing the other half of a silent conversation while Hook tried desperately to pull her onto him once more. She clutched a fistful of James’ hair and pulled his head back from her skin, causing him to look up at her. His eyes were sleepy, dark rimmed but full of wanton desire for her body. “Should I kill you first?” She asked darkly, and not even the faintest shiver of fear ran through him.

“Do you want to?” Hook asked, running his hands down her backside, holding her bum and pushing her body toward him again. 

“Do I want--” She gave a huff of frustrated laughter and pulled away from him, shoving his head away from her as she went. “I liked you better when you were unmuddled,” she stated, picking up a black satin bag, and rifled through it. “Here, you lovesick pup,” she said, tossing him a small chocolate. “Eat this.” 

James grinned at her, willing to do whatever it was she wanted, and took a bite out of the sweet. He stared as he chewed, smile ever slowly fading from his lips. The purple fog in his eyes melted away just as slow, and he jolted back against the stone wall, falling to the floor. 

“You bitch,” he gripped the sides of his head, squeezing his eyes shut as everything that had transpired over the last five months came flooding back to him. 

Helena stood before him, stomach swelled proportionate to the time he had spent locked in this house, and smiled. 

“You said one night,” he barked through gritted teeth, snatching his boots off the floor and pulling them on as his head ached with the rush of memories. 

“I tried to send you away, but you insisted on staying,” she smirked, and held up the bottle of wine. “Care for a glass of wine, capitán?” Helena asked maddeningly. 

“You poisoned me!” He raged, eyes fixating on her belly.

“Of course I poisoned you, you idiot,” Helena fired back, rolling her eyes before dropping her cloak onto the bed, and shaking her long locks over her shoulders. “You were just so fun to have around, jumping around for me like a trained capuchin,” she grinned unashamedly. 

“Wait,” Hook winced, ignoring her attempts at winding him up, and tried to focus on what she was just saying. “What do you mean it all has to end?”

The witch brightened immediately, holding onto her belly protectively, and crossed to an inlaid cupboard in the wall. 

“Oh, I do love when men listen,” she chirped, opening the cupboard and tucking the satin bag in beside something. Whatever was in there was causing a faint glowing, and James thought something familiar sounded, like a tinkle of bells. “You are all going to fade away, James Hook. You, the lost boys, the merfolk, the Indians hiding in the caves. All of my mother island’s invaders, gone. Because now I have the final piece, thanks to you,” she simpered, looking lovingly down at the bump. 

“What do you have in there?” Hook asked, stepping forward, wanting to glean as much information as he could. “The final piece for what?” 

Helena kicked the door back with her elbow, concealing the frantically jingling bells. 

“You’ll see,” she grinned, waving her fingers in goodbye. “Goodbye, James.”

“Don’t you dare--” he stepped forward, about to grab her arm, but instead his step fell heavy on the wooden floor of his cabin on the Roger. 

A cold anger rushed through his body, and he pulled the bedchamber door open abruptly. Starkey, who had been sitting behind the captain’s desk, booted feet up on the table startled so quickly that he fell out of the chair. 

“C-captain?” Jack stood immediately, trembling at James’ sudden appearance, looking very much like one seeing a ghost. “We thought--”

“Get me Smee.”