#my gods are in the earth and the trees and the sky and the sea | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shellshocklove · 8 months ago

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does anyone know where the love of god goes? | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: crossing the country alone as he searches for his brother, joel stumbles on a farm. winter is closing in, and against his better judgement he's convinced to stay. as the frost covers the land like a blanket, a warmth ignites in his heart for the young woman who's home he finds himself in.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, dead animals, joel being a sad man, masturbation, no use of y/n

a/n: i soft launched this ao3 last month and it flopped lol so i'm gonna keep my expectations low for this series. anyways this has been a story i've been thinking about since probably october. this is the first part of what i'm hoping will be 3 parts. happy reading i guess

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

The leaves rustled against Joel’s boots with every step he took. The sun had turned traitor cold, and he couldn’t feel its kiss against his cheek no more. The trees shivered above him in the wind – the only sound for miles except his heavy steps.

Did he still exist, with no one around? Joel had never minded being alone; after the breakout he’d found that he sometimes preferred it. People could be… well, when you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s best to leave it behind.

And wasn’t he the worst of humanity? The things he’d done. The people he’d killed, and killed for. The people he’d lost.

But he had to keep going. For Tess. He promised.

Every night as he stared into the flames his thoughts would drift to her – the memories flickering in the fire. They should’ve never gone through that museum – it was supposed to have been empty – they should’ve never left Boston in the first place. Now Tess is gone because of him, him and his stupid plan to find his brother.

And for what? How is he ever gonna find Tommy?

Joel didn’t even know where he was. Nebraska? South-Dakota? Maybe he’d made it to Wyoming and just didn’t know it? Abe had told him ‘Cody Tower’, but Joel hadn’t seen anything other than mother nature for weeks.

Everything had started to look the same. Trees and more trees, a mountain in the distance, a grey and heavy sky above him. He’d been walking for forever. Slowly he moved west– or at least he thought he was. On the days where the sun hung high in the sky and wasn’t shielded behind a cloudy partition, he liked to watch it as it dipped below the earth. As the days turned shorter and shorter, the display of color had started to get more vivid. Joel would watch the light blue turn red and bloody, fiery tongues of flames licking over the horizon while the sharp edges of the mountains, and the triangular shapes of the trees faded into an intense black– like the shape of the mountain and the trees had been cut out with scissors. There wasn’t much to stay alive for anymore– but Joel lived for those few moments where nature painted with fire. Humanity might’ve gone to shit, but the cyclical regularity of mother nature gave Joel a small sense of peace.

But he missed the kiss of the sun against his cheek now. He’d moved into a large forest a few days ago. Tall trees hovered over him like giants and cast shadows down at him. It was colder here than out in the open country, but at least he’d been somewhat shaded from the rain pouring from the grey cover above his head the last few days.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound stopped Joel in his tracks. Muscle memory worked on its own, gripping the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He listened for the sound again, to the steady rhythm echoing through the forest.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

With slow calculated steps Joel walked in the direction of the sound with the shotgun held tightly to his chest, his finger hovered over the trigger. The chopping sound got louder as he closed in on a man. He couldn’t tell his age with the man’s back turned – but he was strong – Joel could tell from how hard the man’s axe hit the tree trunk.

Taking another silent step, Joel got in position, “How ‘bout you slowly turn around and place that axe on the ground.”

Joel’s voice was hoarse after no use, but still cold and calculated as he spoke his order. He could see he’d startled the man, probably thinking he was alone, just like Joel had thought mere minutes ago.

The man obeyed, turning around slowly. He was older than Joel, maybe mid-seventies, maybe older if the wrinkles and creases around his eyes and nose were to be believed. His hair was white as snow matching his unkempt beard. Joel caught his eye. Strong and steady, no trace of fear one would think a man would feel while having a gun pointed at them.

Joel’s grip around the gun tightened. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if that’s where this was headed. The man watched him calmly before he bent his knees, throwing the axe haphazardly on the ground.

“Kick it over here,” Joel commanded again, and the man obeyed, kicking the axe clumsily towards Joel.

Slowly Joel crept closer, gun still pointed at the man. He locked the heel of his shoe against the shaft, dragging the axe behind him and out of the way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Are you going to kill me, son?”

The man’s question puzzled Joel. He said it so calmly, like how you’d ask someone to pass the salt.

“That depends on you.” Joel’s answer pulled at the old man’s lips, a small huff of a laugh escaping them.

“Well, you’re the one with the gun. I think it depends on you.”

Joel tightened his grip on the shotgun again – he didn’t know why –to frighten the man? He didn’t seem very frightened.

“Are you alone?” Joel asked.

“Not anymore,” the man answered.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Joel gritted through his teeth, “who you travelin’ with?”

“No one,” the man’s eyes never left Joel, “I live at a farm about a mile away.”

“Take me to it.”

The man walked with a limp Joel noticed. It was barely there, you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t pay attention, but it was there. The man acted tough enough, but his body revealed his weaknesses. It would be easy to kill him, Joel thought, if it came to that.

He followed the man through the trees with his gun pointed at his back. When they reached the end of the forest a clearing revealed itself. They followed a path through a field of, tall but wilted, brown grass until they reached an overgrown gravel road with a fence running along it. Looking out in the distance, Joel could see small spots of white and black wool. The gravel moaned under their feet as they closed in on a small farm. A two-story house sat in the middle of the barnyard where it was surrounded by a barn who’d seen better days, a silo, and a smaller farmhouse – a stable – Joel noticed as they walked closer.

The man trudged up the front stairs of the main farmhouse, a hand on the handrail keeping him steady.

“Put that gun away would you, son? I don’t want you frightening my wife.” The man broke the silence between them, speaking for the first time since they left the woods.

Joel’s grip on his shotgun didn’t loosen. How could he be sure that this man’s ‘wife’ wasn’t some gang of raiders hiding behind the front door? A question he asked the man through gritted teeth when he turned around to look at Joel.

“There’s nothing of the sort around here,” the man said, “we don’t even see any infected.”

When Joel didn’t say anything, and didn’t lower the gun, the man spoke again, “Who are you?”

“Just someone passin’ through,” Joel answered, making the man chuckle.

“You’re something else, passer-througher,” the old man smiled before he turned around again and stepped inside, leaving Joel on the porch alone.

Abandoned outside he lowered his gun slightly. Inside he could hear muffled voices, a deeper one, definitely the old man, and a brighter one, a woman’s voice. He listened, trying to make out their words with no prevail. The man seemed to have spoken the truth up until now. He most definitely lived on this farm – a seemingly normal farm. This man was just someone making an honest living – even after the apocalypse.

Lowering the gun completely, Joel put the safety on before he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a hollowed step towards the front door, movement in the window to the right of him caught his eye. It was there and then it was gone – just a ruffle of blonde curtains. Then, the door opened revealing an elderly woman.

The man’s wife.

“Welcome, traveler,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Joel in.

He passed through the doorway with a “Thank you, ma’am,” never forgetting his manners even after pointing a gun at her husband.

Inside it looked like a picture taken straight out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. The house was cozy, but it was small. He’d been welcomed into what probably used to be a parlor, but now served its purpose as their living room. It was hard to get a read on the house. Not like those open-floor plan houses he’d built too many of back before the outbreak – this was old, maybe hundreds of years old. The floorboard creaked under his shoes as he walked deeper into the living room, the rest of the house locked away like a secret behind three closed doors. The man was seated in a lounge chair by the fireplace, watching Joel with an expression Joel found it hard to decipher.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked, “It’s peppermint from our garden.”

Joel turned his head to the woman. She must be around the same age as the old man, Joel thought. He cleared his throat before he answered with a nod, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pointed to the sofa, urging him to sit down with a smile before she disappeared through one of the doors to what Joel thought must be the kitchen. He felt the old man watching him as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, placing it on the creaky wooden floor behind the sofa. Joel hesitated for just a second when placing the shotgun up against the back, but decided he wasn’t in any imminent danger.

Joel almost groaned as he sat down. He’d been walking for so long, slept on the hard ground for months, he’d almost forgotten what a comfortable chair was. It almost felt surreal, being invited in for tea, like the outbreak had never happened. Here, it was like the time had stood still.

“So,” the man started, “where are you heading to if you’re just ‘passin’ through’?”

Joel cleared his throat again, “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he answered truthfully, “last I heard he was somewhere in Wyoming.”

“If you’re going to Wyoming, then what you’re doing all the way up here?” The man queried with a chuckle.

Annoyed, Joel grinded his teeth, “Not many signs in the fuckin’ woods are there?” He huffed.

“I guess not,” the man shrugged, “but you’ve made a heck of a detour… where did you come from? Texas? You sound it.”

“Boston.”

“Boston?” the man didn’t hide his surprise, breathing out chuckles in disbelief, “I’ll give it to you, that’s one long trip.”

Joel only huffed in agreement, turning his head from the man to the window overlooking the barnyard.

“Well,” the man broke the growing silence between the two men, “you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and for the night– you look like you could need a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joel’s instinct was to say no, but before he could the front door opened, revealing a young woman. You.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you laid your eyes on Joel, “Oh!”.

The door slammed behind you. Under your arm you were carrying a metal bucket filled with apples. You were beautiful, young, but still beautiful – Joel couldn’t deny it.

“This is…” The man paused.

“Joel.” He cleared his throat, introducing himself, “Joel Miller.”

“Mr. Miller is just passing through– he’s looking for his brother,” the old man explained to you.

You nodded at the information, sat the bucket down before you reached out a hand for Joel to take, introducing yourself. Your hand in his was warm and soft while his own dwarfed yours, rough and calloused. He couldn’t help but think about what his hands had done, the people they’d killed. He shouldn’t be tainting yours, painting them red. Joel quickly drew his hand back, balling it into a fist at his side.

Joel looked over at the old man, “Your daughter?” he asked with a tilt of his head in your direction.

“Oh, no,” the man answered with a playful smile, “You’re not the first person ‘passin’ through’ who’s shown up on our doorstep.”

The door to the kitchen opened to reveal the old woman with a teapot in her hand, and a stacked tower of teacups in the other.

“Let me help you Alma,” you said, taking the teacups from the old woman’s hand before placing them on the table; one in front of Joel, a second in front of the old man, “Here you go Arthur,” and a third next to Joel.

“Did you also want some tea, sweetie?” Alma asked you as she placed the steaming teapot on the table.

“Yes, please, but I can grab a cup myself– sit down,” you smiled and padded the old woman’s shoulder, then you grabbed the bucket of apples and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alma started pouring the tea as a silence fell over the room. A small, “Thank you, ma’am,” left Joel’s lips as she moved on to pouring tea for her husband.

“So,” the man started before taking a sip of his tea, “what do you say Mr. Miller? You staying for the night?”

That night as he laid in a real bed for the first time in months, Joel had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t used to this. Hadn’t been used to it for a while. His belly full, soft fabric against his skin, feeling warm, and clean. The old couple had offered him one of the two bedrooms on the first floor, the two mystery doors in the living room now revealed. Laying in his new bed he tried not to think about who he was sharing a wall with.

You.

You were something else, helpful and kind. Everything Joel hadn’t seen since the outbreak. At the dinner table you’d asked him questions and listened intently – even when his answers were short and brisk. There was a glimmer in your eye, and it touched something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. But you were young, mid to late twenties he reckoned, maybe a little older– anyways, he shouldn’t be harboring anything for you, it wouldn’t be right. Especially now, now that he’d agreed to stay.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, Arthur had folded a big map out on the table. “Here are we now,” he’d pointed a finger at the map. Montana. Southern Montana to be precise. “I’ll give it to you Mr. Miller, if you’ve made it this far on your own you probably won’t have any trouble making your way down south to Wyoming.”

“But?” Joel watched the grimace pulling at the old man’s face.

“But,” Arthur had said, “Winter is just around the corner and… well, going back out there in the wilderness alone during our winters is a dead trap, I’ll tell you that much.”

Joel had let the man go on about the far below freezing temperatures, the heavy snow, and the tough wind, but Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew the winters up here were harsh. It wasn’t even winter yet, but every day he’d felt the temperature drop lower and lower, and the last few of nights he’d even had to get a fire going, against his better judgement.

So– the deal was: Joel would stay over the winter. Just for the winter, he’d been adamant on not staying longer. He’d get a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, and food in his belly on one condition – he’d help out on the farm.

The fire crackled loudly, red tongues licking up the chimney as Joel fed it another log. He watched as the fire caught in the new log, devouring it quickly and with no mercy. It was really starting to heat up now. A small flicker of pride sparked in Joel chest. He’d always been good at building a fire. It was one of those things, Joel had come to learn, where you needed to pay attention, to have patience.

When he was younger, he’d take Tommy out camping sometimes, just the two of them. Mostly they’d go during the summer; Tommy wasn’t a fan of sleeping outside in the cold, though cold had meant something different back then in Texas. But Joel remembered one time he’d managed to convince him to go with him. It was right after he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his parents had given him a beat-up truck for his birthday – for sharing – they’d told him, “You need to give your little brother a ride when he needs it!” Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled about his future as Tommy’s private driver, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love his brother.

A few weeks into October he’d managed to convince Tommy to go camping. They’d packed the truck with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing equipment, before they’d gotten on the road, driving to a lake where they knew there were fish to catch. Finding a place to camp was always difficult with Tommy. They’d parked Joel’s truck at the edge of the forest before they’d followed a hiking trail. Joel was convinced they’d walked at least three quarters of the way around the lake before they found a spot good enough for Tommy.

It had to be flat, but also shielded. There couldn’t be too many rocks, but there also had to be enough rocks to build a hearth. Tommy wanted it to be private, but he also wanted it to be open enough that he could see if someone would stumble upon their camp. Joel knew not to argue with him when he got like that, opting instead for a defeated, “Whatever.”

Setting up camp went relatively easy. They’d worked together building the tents, collecting rocks for their fireplace, and even managed to find a fallen tree to use as a bench. When the night slowly started to cover them in darkness, Tommy decided to get the fire going. Joel watched him work the logs into a pile as he started on filleting the fish they’d just caught.

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he’d told his brother, “You’re suffocatin’ it.” He’d washed his hands in the lake, ridding himself of the slimy smell of fish, before crouching down next to Tommy.

The fire was one big bowl of smoke, and Joel caught himself wondering what messages Tommy must’ve been sending to the heavens. He removed some of the heavier logs, and the fire could breathe.

“See?” he’d looked at Tommy, “It just needed air.” Joel had shifted the smaller pieces of wood around and not long after the fire was alive.

That Joel, that green boy who liked to take his little brother camping, that Joel didn’t know how much those skills would come in handy in a few years when the world would get turned upside down.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?”

Your question pulled Joel from his memories. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze from where you were huddled up in the corner of the couch. You looked cozy, but he knew you weren’t. The house was cold this morning, outside a thin layer of frost had stuck to the grass during the night. It was early too, the sun not having climbed high enough yet to peek over the mountains. You looked tired where you sat, clad in a wool sweater with a blanket pulled over your knees. Under the blanket Joel remembered you were still wearing your pajama pants, and in your hand you held a steaming cup of tea, peppermint, Joel knew, his own cup abandoned on the coffee table.

“What?” Joel answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?” you repeated softly, like the way people tended to speak in the mornings, like they were afraid they’d wake up the world.

His calves were starting to burn from the strain of being crouched in front of the fireplace for a moment too long, and he tried his best to hide his groan, biting his teeth together as he stood to his feet, knees cracking loudly.

“Um, no,” he said, confused about your question.

“I’ll knit you a pair then,” you smiled before putting your cup down next to his.

“That’s… that ain’t necessary,” Joel hurried, but you waved him off.

“Sure it is,” you smiled again, much to Joel’s annoyance. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it away like it cost nothing. “If you’re gonna be helping Arthur out in the woods this winter, you need some mittens.”

Joel watched as you got up from your home on the couch and vanished into your bedroom. A moment later you appeared in the doorway with a basket under your arm.

“Also…” you gave him another smile as you sat back down again, placing the basket in your lap. It was close to overflowing with yarn, balls of black and white in varying sizes peeking over the top, the homespun ends fraying against the rough edges of the basket. “I’ll have something to do during the evenings,” you winked before you rummaged through the basket and fished out a measuring tape.

Joel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you. Mittens? Joel can’t remember if he’s ever owned a pair of mittens. Gloves, sure, but mittens?

You patted the cushion next to you, urging him to sit down, kind smile hanging off your lips like always. Sitting down, he folded his hands in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sat next to you before; he’d been here a few weeks now, and he was starting to know you, but for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the early morning, the quiet house, or the fact that Alma and Arthur were still sleeping upstairs, but it felt like it was just the two of you, alone, and Joel didn’t know how to feel about it.

You shifted towards him, the blanket slipping slightly off the couch with your movement, in your hands you held the measuring tape while you looked at him expectantly.

When Joel didn’t move, a smile quirked at the corner of your mouth before you grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap. You uncurled his fingers slowly, one by one, making Joel hold his breath.

“I need to see how big I need to make them,” you whispered, holding his hand very gently.

Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. Your hand was warm and soft, like the last time he’d touched you as you’d introduced yourself to him. Joel didn’t dare look at your face, or he’d say something stupid, so he didn’t. He looked at your joined hands, his brain trying to remember the last time someone had held his hand as gently as you did, your thumb running over the back of it soothingly.

He can’t remember. His hands are always empty.

With your other hand, a finger curled around the measuring tape, you slipped it around his wrist before leaning closer to look at the numbers.

“Is this too tight you think, or do you want them to be looser?” You asked through your lashes, eyes sparkling in the low morning light.

Joel cleared his throat, “No, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slipping the measuring tape from his wrist to write down the measurement. He hadn’t noticed your notebook until now. It was a little rough around the edges from use, the spined cracked and the paper a little yellow. Placing the pen in the seam, you grabbed the measuring tape again.

Loosening your grip on his hand you placed it over the thick of your thigh. Joel drew a quick breath, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, under his hand he could feel the warmth of you through the soft flannel.

You continued taking your measurements. You didn’t say anything, so neither did Joel, but you looked up at him through your lashes sometimes, and Joel thought that maybe the most useful thing one can do with empty hands, is hold on.

The creak of the stair made Joel jump, and like he’d been burned his hand retracted on reflex, as Arthur’s heavy steps got closer.

“Morning,” Arthur greeted as he ducked his head through the door to the living room.

“Mornin’,” Joel mumbled, head lowered as he gathered his hands in his lap.

“Good morning!” you smiled, always with that kind smile, “Did you sleep well, Arthur?” you got up from your seat before grabbing your teacup to follow Arthur into the kitchen, leaving the yarn and Joel.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pinched the top of his nose. He needed to get it together. You were just being your regular kind self; your soft touch was nothing more than that. Standing to his feet, Joel grabbed his own cup, trudging into the kitchen.

In the kitchen Arthur sat in his usual spot at the dining table, the chair closest to the window. “I need to get on with this barn soon,” Joel heard him say as he sat down opposite him. “It’s gonna fall apart come spring if we get as much snow as we did last year.”

Joel tried his best not to look at you as he heard you hum. You were stood at the kitchen counter slicing the bread Alma had baked yesterday, readying breakfast. Instead, Joel opted to gaze down into his teacup, where the peppermint leaves had all gathered at the bottom.

“Um,” Joel cleared his throat, “what needs fixin’?”

“What doesn’t need fixing in that barn?” Arthur sighed, peeling his eyes from out the window to Joel.

“I can uh,” Joel eyes shifted quickly to you before he cleared his throat again, “I can take a look at it, if ya want?”

Arthur’s eyebrows met in a furrow as he looked at Joel.

“I used to be a contractor,” Joel explained with a shrug, before taking a last cold sip of his tea.

“So, you know a thing or two about buildings I reckon?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, well I used to,” Joel leaned back in his chair.

“Well, that would be very helpful Joel– I’d appreciated it!” Arthur smiled before leaning back in his chair making room for you as you started setting the table. Joel gave him a short nod in return, trying to fight the urge to look at you as you placed the food on the table.

Arthur had downplayed the state of the barn – it was a mess – it was dangerous, and had Joel told him as much. But it was nothing Joel couldn’t fix, as long as he had the right supplies, fortunately for him the forest would provide them with what they needed.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The axe dug a deep wound into the bark with every swing. Joel’s breath was heavy, and his arms ached, but it was a welcomed form of tiredness. A month into it, he was starting to get used to the work. There was something so satisfying about manual labor, of using his hands, of making something – he’d almost forgotten.

The routine of the work felt good. Waking up at dawn, then breakfast, he could use his body for something useful for the first time in twenty years and end the day with a warm meal for supper. This new temporary life was simple, but it was strangely normal.

Originally, Joel was only helping Arthur out in the woods for firewood through the winter– but now with the barn, they’d changed course. The last few days they’d started to become more selective with the trees; looking for the tallest and straightest ones that would fall safely.

A frozen sky hovered over the men as they worked. This morning when Joel had woken up, the thinnest layer of snow had fallen like powdered sugar during the night, turning the world bright with winter. Earlier in the week the frost had perched on the farm, and Joel had known winter was closing in. He’d lost count of the days and months passing while on his own, but Arthur had told him it was late October.

“It will start snowing properly soon,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.

Joel hummed before taking a bite of his packed lunch. They’d worked all morning – Joel felling the trees and Arthur cleaning them up and removing the branches. Now they were sat on a fresh tree stump each, their first break of the day.

“I have an old logging sled in the barn– used to be my father’s,” Arthur explained, “I think we should leave the trees here until the snow gets deep enough for the sled and have the horses pull them back to the farm.”

“Fine by me,” Joel took another bite of his lunch.

“The logs will have to dry out over the winter,” Arthur mused, “Then come spring we can start the repairs on the barn.”

Spring. If everything goes according to plan, Joel won’t be here come spring. He needed to find Tommy– he couldn’t, and he wasn’t gonna stay on the farm for any longer than necessary. He’d already decided– when the snow finally started to melt, Joel was gone.

Joel hummed, a non-committed answer. It was easier that way, to not get Arthur’s hopes up. He liked Arthur, he was a good man, a hard worker even in his old age, and silent when Joel wanted him to be. Joel liked Alma too, but her age shined through more easily than Arthur’s. Joel couldn’t help but notice her repeating herself more often and forgetting where she put things. It made life harder for you, Joel could see it. Your responsibilities were already a lot to handle as you took care of the animals mostly by yourself, but as Joel had discovered Alma starting to struggle with the housework, he’d noticed you starting to help her more often. In Joel’s mind it was unfair to you, but it wasn’t like he could blame Alma for growing older, in this world it was a feat.

Still, he’d try his best to help you when he could, like doing the dishes after dinner as you dried them off and put them away. The first few times you were both quiet, it was strangely intimate, only the sound of splashing water filling the space between you. One night he'd gotten brave, breaking the comfortable silence and asked you ‘What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?’ You’d looked at him with big eyes, searching his own for something, but before he could figure out what it was, you’d answered him with a shrug. It was unlike you, unlike you to be this silent, but Joel didn’t push. The next night the silence persisted, and he’d thought adding ‘Sweetheart’ had been too much, but then the next night you’d sighed quietly and whispered, “I’m worried about Alma.”

Looking down at the mittens in his lap, the guilt gnawed at him. The look of worry in your eyes, Arthur’s hopeful wishes, and Alma’s aging. Joel couldn’t have anything tying him to this place. He was supposed to find his brother.

Suddenly, a black and orange butterfly landed on Joel’s knee. Joel stopped breathing, body going rigid as he tried not to move. How the hell was this butterfly still alive? It sat quiet on his knee, wings slowly retracting and widening behind it. Memories pushed its way to the forefront of Joel’s mind then.

Sarah. Another year had gone by, and the thought made his chest tighten.

“That’s quite a sight at this time of year,” he heard Arthur say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Y-yeah,” Joel stammered out an answer, afraid his voice would scare it away.

The longer Joel watched the butterfly he found his guilt started to slowly melt away. It’s okay, dad. It was like the rustling of the trees carried her voice with them. You’re on the right path.

“I can do that f’you want, sweetheart.”

Joel’s boots creaked under him as he walked across the barnyard. You looked up at the sound of his voice, smile blossoming across your face as you tightened your grip on the shovel.

“It’s alright,” you said with a grunt as you picked up more snow, adding it to the growing pile, “Good for me to get some physical work in.”

Joel nodded as you straightened up, hand going to your hip while the other leaned on the shovel, your heavy breath curled in small plumes out of your mouth. You took him in for a second, eyes flickering over his form before they fell on the rabbits hanging over Joel’s shoulder.

“Where’d you get those?” you asked, and Joel shrugged.

“Shot ‘em,” he said simply, “they walked right by me as I was choppin’– seemed too good to pass up.”

“Not for the rabbits,” you muttered, and Joel had to fight the urge to smile.

“You a vegetarian or somethin’?” he asked with a single raised eyebrow, and you waved him off.

“No,” you said pointedly, but a teasing lilt lingered, “Just stating a fact... we don’t eat a lot of rabbit around here, is all.”

Joel nodded slightly; it made sense. He knew there was a gun in the house, but it was a revolver– too small to do any real hunting, and Joel didn’t even know if there were bullets for it. So, Joel didn't ask further. Lucky for him, you did.

“So, you just shot those?” you asked, a frown pulling at your eyebrows, “Aren’t they fast?”

Joel made a nonchalant sort of face. “Ain’t that hard when you can aim straight.”

“Well, how do you aim straight?”

“You learn to shoot.”

You let out a small laugh, one that pulled at Joel’s lips. “And how did you go about learning that?”

Joel felt his smile drop, the leather strap of his shotgun weighing heavy on his shoulder, “Practice.”

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his demeanor as you dug the shovel into the snow, so it stood by itself like a watchman. “Can you teach me?” you asked, the snow creaking under your shoes as you took a few steps closer.

His lips pulled at the corner, “No.”

Your eyes widened with disappointment, eyebrows pulling together in a frown as you asked, “Why?”

“Nothin’ good ever comes from it,” Joel shrugged.

“Okay,” you huffed a laugh, “that’s sinister.” Then you narrowed your eyes at him, gearing up for an argument no doubt with the way you rested your hand on your hip. “What if I also wanted to go hunting?” you posed, and Joel shook his head.

“That ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay, but now you’ve brought us rabbits– and what if I end up really liking rabbit?” you bit down on your bottom lip, unconsciously showing off you own rabbit teeth.

Cute.

“Then I’ll shoot as many rabbits as you want,” Joel countered with a teasing smile before tightening his hold on the rope slung over his other shoulder (the one he’d tied the rabbits to), and walked towards the kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse.

He heard you huff in defeat behind him, your creaky steps following him up the stairs and inside. Walking into the kitchen Joel placed the rabbits on the table before he pulled at his mittens, stripped off his jacket, and hung it neatly over the back of one of the dining chairs. Grabbing one of the rabbits he brought it to the kitchen counter to start dressing it, fighting the urge to turn his head as he heard you enter the room.

“Come on, Joel,” you whined, “Why won’t you teach me?”

“Told you already,” Joel replied, “Nothin’ good comes from learnin’ to shoot things.”

Shifting the rabbit around on the counter he reached for the butcher knife in the knife block.

“You know, that’s a really stupid way of saying you don’t want to spend the time,” you told him, your voice closer now as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“When exactly did ya hear me sayin’ I don't wanna spend time with you?” Joel asked, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“You won’t teach me to shoot,” you teased, and Joel could hear the smile in your voice.

Joel huffed out a laugh, “Damn right I won’t.”

He heard you let out a whiney huff, before you turned on your heel, muttering out a curse under your breath when you accidently bumped your hip into the counter and Joel couldn’t help the smile teasing at his lips. You sat down with an overdramatic sigh, and Joel still didn’t look at you – he knew he’d cave eventually if he did, say yes against his better judgement – so he kept his eyes on the knife in his hand.

“How’s Arthur?” Joel asked as he worked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “The same I think– Alma was up there looking after him last time I checked.”

This time Joel allowed himself to look at you. You sat sideways on the wooden chair, legs crossed and tucked under your chair with your head hanging, eyes glued to your lap. Gone were the teasing, and gone were the smiles.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, his eyes back on the rabbit, “it’s just a cold.”

“Yeah… but he’s been getting sick a lot more often,” your voice was low, like you didn’t want them to hear you upstairs, “you can’t help but think the worst you know?”

Joel put the knife down and moved over to the sink. He quickly washed his hands before grabbing a towel to dry off, twisting it in his hands as he approached you. Placing the towel on the counter, he hesitated for a moment as he watched you, watched the way you twisted your hands in your lap with no sense of purpose or intent. It was like the worry dripped down your body. Pushing off the counter Joel knelt in front of you, a grunt escaped him as his knees clicked loudly, his balance slightly off on his haunches.

“Shit,” Joel huffed out a laugh, and you followed. Your palms landed on his knees to keep him steady, warmth spreading like jolting electricity.

“Sweetheart, I’ll tell you what–” he stopped himself when you looked at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the way your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. “’s just a cold, he’ll be up ‘n walkin’ tomorrow– man’s got gumption.”

“Yeah?” your eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.

Suddenly, under your gaze Joel felt brave. His hand moved on its own accord, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let his thumb ghost over your skin, still cold under his fingertips from being outside, but warming under his touch.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, you only watched him with glimmering eyes, like you were under a spell. Maybe he was too.

“Still,” you sighed, “Would be better if I could pick up more of the slack around here... Arthur does a lot, and I wish I could do more to support them.”

“Like what? You take care of the animals all by yourself– that’s more than enough.”

“Well, I could learn to shoot rabbits,” you told him, before the corners of your mouth pulled into a pleased smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, making a move to stand when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’m kidding, Joel,” you smiled, before a more serious look washed over your features. “I mean it’s… It’s gonna be empty here without you,” you said, “I’m starting to really like having you here, Joel.”

Joel turned his hand to rest the back of it on your thigh, your hand fitting in his.

“I uh,” his eyes fixated on your joined hands, then he cleared his throat, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m not leavin’ you alone, sweetheart.”

Your eyes lit up at his words, smile growing large across your face. Joel’s heart drummed in his chest as your eyes flickered down to his mouth again.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, and then you did something Joel thought was gonna make his heart stop beating. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It bloomed against his skin, and made wings flutter against the walls of his stomach.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller,” you whispered before you pulled away, looking at him with kindness in your eyes.

If only you knew, Joel thought, if only you knew the blood on his hands.

He couldn’t look at you when you looked at him like that. Like you believed your own words. So, he cleared his throat awkwardly and stood to his feet, his knees clicking as your hand slipped from his movement. He walked back to the counter, fingers grabbing the towel with no other purpose than to calm himself down.

After placing the towel back where it usually hung, he grabbed the knife again, turning his attention back to the rabbit, allowing himself to steal a few glances at you where you sat looking out the kitchen window.

“Hey, uh,” Joel broke the growing silence after a few minutes, “how ‘bout rabbit stew for lunch?”

Your head snapped to look at him as he spoke, a smile ghosting over your lips as you said, “I’ll go get some vegetables from the cellar.”

Joel wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook – he wouldn’t even call himself a cook in the first place. Back before the outbreak he’d been forced to learn the basics as a fresh single dad, but he’d never been able to provide Sarah with gourmet meals very often, and when Sarah had gotten older, he’d been embarrassed to say that her food was always better than his – eggshells and all. One summer he’d bought himself a nice grill– one of those way too expensive gas grills with too many fancy accessories for Joel to regularly use. He’d had a job that ended up paying well, some rich guy’s mansion that needed renovating, and decided to treat himself for once. That summer all their meals had come from that grill, well mostly, and afterwards Joel looked at himself as a pretty good griller, if nothing else.

You on the other hand, you knew what you were doing, it was clear in the effortlessly way you moved beside him as you got the vegetables ready for the stew. Joel seared the meat to the best of his abilities, making sure it was properly browned on both sides before setting it aside. After that, it was clear that you were in charge, and Joel let you boss him around and tell him what to do. It made his heart warm around the edges, watching how you put so much love and care into everything you did.

An hour later you finally sat down to eat; two hearty bowls of stew each as light snowflakes covered the world outside. You’d let the pot simmer on low over the heat as you’d wanted to bring up a bowl for Arthur and Alma later.

“So…” you started, watching as Joel dug into his bowl, “How’s the stew?”

“’s good!” Joel nodded through a mouthful, and he wasn’t lying. It was good, really good in fact.

“Yeah?” you bubbled through a smile, before you dug into your own bowl to see if he’d spoken the truth. He watched as you face brightened as you chewed, nodding your head to confirm his verdict.

“I think I really like rabbit, Joel,” you said through a teasing smile, and Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle from spilling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, teasing smile not going anywhere, “So… when are you teaching me to shoot?”

“Shut up.”

The living room was quiet, safe for the cracking of the fire. It had almost died out when Joel had stepped out of his room. He’d been twisting and turning again, counting sheep, but nothing had been able to pull him under the blanket of sleep. He was plumb tired too, that was the worst part. The embers hummed with a low light, and with a small stick Joel had spread them out before placing a small piece of wood on top. No less than a minute later the fire fed on the log.

Taking a seat and leaning back in the lounge chair, Joel looked out the window with tired eyes. The moon looked down on him, big and bright, it shone its white light over the barnyard like a spotlight. His thoughts were clouded over as he gazed up. A billion little lights turning into bright spheres in the sky.

On nights like this, Joel felt like he was barely breathing at all.

His thoughts didn’t stray for long before they found you again. Lately, you were always on his mind. He thought about how you’d looked mere hours ago, when he’d sat in this same exact chair, only this time it was facing towards the sofa and not the window.

You’d been sat curled up in the corner, blanket thrown over your lap with a book in hand. You’d told him you’d read all the books in the house already, but it didn’t stop you from coming back to your favorites. Joel had been reading his own book, an old western he’d found in the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway a few days ago. It was entertaining, but not enough to hold his attention. He found his eyes had a mind of their own, slipping over the top to steal a peek at you as you read, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the barely there furrow of concentration between your eyebrows.

“Joel.”

Joel perked up at the whisper of his name, the memories fading like ripples in still water. He looked around the room –nothing. He sat quietly in his chair for a moment, listening, as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. It had been your voice, hadn’t it? Or was he starting to lose it? His eyes fell to the door of your bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but he could see it was slightly ajar.

“Joel.”

The voice was louder this time, almost strained, but it was yours. A thousand scenarios flashed before his eyes then at your tone. Was there someone in your room? Were you in danger? Seconds later Joel crossed the room, a mix of fear and protectiveness overcoming him.

Leaning up against your door he listened for the intruder as he readied himself. The soft crinkling of your sheets combined with your strained whimpers was all it took for him to push the door open, fearing the worst.

And…

It was empty, your room, you were alone. Joel immediately felt stupid– the only intruder here was him.

He was about to step out, embarrassed at his actions, when he heard it again, his name falling from your lips. It was all Joel needed to finally take in your body, squirming under your sheets, still asleep. The realization of what he’d just walked in on made Joel’s eyes widen.

Laying on your back, the duvet had slipped down your torso from your movements to reveal the thin t-shirt you wore to bed. Like this he could see your perked nipples through the fabric, as your chest quickly rose and fell, making Joel’s imagination start to run wild.

“Joel.”

In his pajama pants, Joel could feel his cock come alive from the soft whimper that left your lips along with his name. He couldn’t move, like some farm elf had glued his feet to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He watched as you scrunched your face together in pleasure, another whimper falling from your lips, and all the blood in Joel’s body rushed down south.

As if the soundwaves from your voice had broken against him, he took a step backwards, and then another, and another until he crossed the threshold of your door. He tried his best to be quiet, to not wake you and have you catch him in your room in the middle of the night.

The image of you squirming under your sheets, dreaming of him, didn’t leave him as he closed the door to his own room. With a sigh his head fell against the door, a strong hand gliding down his front to hover over his aching cock.

Joel Miller was no saint, but what he was doing– what he was about to do, was bad.

“Shit,” he quietly hissed, running his hand up his clothed cock. He hadn’t touched himself properly in a long time, not since he left Boston.

His cock reacted to his touch, growing harder and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his finger around the hem of his pajama pants, pulling them down to the thick of his thigh, freeing himself. He hissed at the cold air hitting his length, as it bopped with the movement of being freed. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Joel spat, before he wrapped his spit-soaked hand around himself.

His mind found you again as he started stroking himself, slowly at first, pumping himself with a practiced hand, squeezing himself at the base before bringing his hand up to thumb at the tip. Joel couldn’t get the way you sounded out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how you were squirming in your bed, dreaming of him. Couldn’t shake the thought of pulling those moans and whimpers from you with his hands, and his mouth, and with his cock.

“Fuck.”

Joel tried to be quiet, but he couldn’t fight the moan from slipping from his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted his hands all over you. Closing his eyes his mouth dropped open as he imagined what he was dying to do to you.

How much he’d wanted to help you out of your t-shirt, run his hands over your breasts and tease your nipples. Take his time to pull those moans and whimpers from your soft lips as he teased you with kisses down your body, down the valley of your breasts, your tummy, down to you to your–

Another low moan fell from Joel’s lips. He squeezed himself tighter as he jerked himself off, precum pearling at the tip, and slipping down his length, mixing with his spit.

The sound of the slick rhythm of his hand filled his bedroom as he increased the pace of his strokes. He had to bite down on his lip to strangle a groan when thoughts of getting between your legs, spreading them open and getting his mouth on you filled his head. He fantasized about how you’d taste falling apart on his tongue–Fuck, how you’d sound falling apart around his cock.

His eyes fell shut as he fisted himself faster. Joel could feel his orgasm quickly building, coiling tight in his tummy. With his free hand he cupped his balls, and then he couldn’t help but imagine it was you, a picture of you on your knees before him flashed behind his eyelids, your tongue lapping at his balls while your hand pumped his cock.

“Shit.”

With a strained groan, thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles and down his length, coating him in his release. His breath came out ragged, as he continued his strokes, milking himself of the rest of his release.

Fuck.

His cock softened in his hand as he calmed down from his high. With a quiet groan he pushed himself off the door, looking around his room for something to clean himself up with.

The guilt of what he’d done washed over him quickly, settling in his chest like a heavy weight. You were so young, and beautiful, and Joel just an old man. He shouldn’t want you like this, shouldn’t want you this much.

Climbing under the covers, Joel couldn’t shake his thoughts of you, of you dreaming about him in your bed, about your smiles, and your touch. A supercut of you rolling like a tape in his minds eye. A supercut of you bundled up under a blanket on the sofa, knitting him his mittens. Of you, your own knitted hat pulled tightly down over your ears as you stepped out into the snow to check on the animals. Of the way you’d looked at him for the first time, with the bucket of apples under your arm, and the sweet taste of them as you’d offered him one later, after dinner.

Finally, Joel could breathe.

next part -> here! i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 7 months ago

Text

Highlands and Full Hearts 🌧

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Highlander!Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x reader

《A/N》: First of all, THIS IS NOT HISTORICALLY ACCURATE!! This is fiction. I did do some research about the Great Kilt, but that's it. This is purely for fun! I highly suggest checking out Fandabi Dozi on YouTube. Even just to take a peak so you can get a better idea of what Johnny's wearing <3

《Content》: NSFW. proceed with caution. Cuddlefucking, unprotected PiV, nipple play, cockwarming. This is so silly and cute, and I love it, and I hope you will too!!

The ask is here!

《WC》: 3.5k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of heart and effort into the things I write.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

It was as if the Gods were damning you, cursing you to a cold death as the sky opened up, breaking in two as heavy rain started pouring from it like currents in the mighty sea.

The wide open hills left trees to be desired to seek shelter from this flood. What you wouldn't do for the protection of a blanket of green hanging far above your head. The grass turned slippery and you had to watch your step so you wouldn't tumbled down into the nearest glen.

Johnny had you tucked close to his side, trying his best to cover you from the heaviest pour with his Plaid. The thick woolen fabric warmed you up despite the wetness as the two of you quickly made your way across the Highlands, hoping to find somewhere warm and dry to escape certain death.

His bonnet sat atop his head, the few wet curls that were peaking out of the hat sticking to his forehead. The white shirt he wore was clinging tightly to his chest, the soaked fabric accentuating his broad chest. The hem of your skirt was stained with green and brown hues of grass and mud.

Thankfully, Johnny's Great Kilt kept most of the water away from your torso, the water running down the wool in fat rivulets. Just as you were thanking the gods for his Plaid, you thanked yourself for insisting on the woolen socks that kept your feet warm and dry. You glanced over at Johnny, rain dripping from his brow as he rolled his shoulder with a grunt, the pack frame digging into his back.

"How far are we out? I swear we didn't stray from the path, did we?" You asked with uncertainty, your voice already muffled by the sound of the rain pounding on the ground.

"Jus' through this glen right there an' we should find some trees, at least." He gave you an encouraging smile while he, himself, had a twinkle of worry in his wonderfully blue eyes, something you'd never miss.

The only thing you could muster was a tight-lipped smile as all the worrisome thoughts knocked around in your head like a woodpecker on a strong oak.

Although his kilt and body heat were keeping you warm, you couldn't help but let your brows furrow in concern at his soaked shirt. He would surely catch his death like this, something you were too stubborn to let happen. Death would have to pry him from your grip before you'd let him go anywhere.

You ducked away from the shield that was his Plaid and tucked it across his chest.

"What are you doin'?" He asked, almost frantically, as he reached up to his shoulder to pull the fabric free.

The rain was now soaking your previously dry hair, the drops running down your neck.

"You'll catch your death! I'll be alright for now." You replied firmly, cupping his hand with yours and pulling it away from the Kilt to intertwine your fingers.

His lips parted slightly.

"Absolutely no'. I'm not lettin' ya get sick." Johnny argued, already fiddling with the corner of the Plaid that you had tucked away.

"Don't you argue with me! I'm not letting you get sick either." You stood your ground, more figuratively than literally as the soft mud was making you sink into the earth.

Johnny sighed, dropping his hand, the other never leaving the tight grasp of yours. Arguing now would be of no use, shelter was the priority right now.

He could scold you when you were dry and warm. You took a step, catching a particularly slippery patch of grass. With a yelp, you fell, terror tearing through your chest as you prepared yourself to tumble down the hill through wet mud and sharp rocks. Johnny, however, managed to catch your arm, making your fall end on your knees.

"Careful, mo leannan." He scolded softly, pulling you up from the ground and tucking you into his side with a tight grip around your shoulders.

"Thank you." You breathed, blood rushing in your ears, your ribcage suddenly feeling all too small for your rapidly beating heart.

He wordlessly pressed a kiss to your temple, urging you to fasten your pace. The wet grass and mud squelched beneath your feet as your hope for shelter dwindled by the second.

The water was starting to soak through your dress, making a shiver run visibly down your spine. From the corner of his eye, Johnny had caught the subtle movement and untucked his Plaid and wrapped it around your shoulders.

"Johnny-"

"No." He said sternly, keeping his eyes forward toward the horizon.

You kept quiet. The only thing now filing the silence between the two of you was the heavy rain, a sound both sending dread and a soothing feeling through you.

Trusting Johnny to keep you on your feet, you took the liberty of looking past the part of the Kilt shielding your view. His was still forward. You turned your head in all directions, hoping to spot a tree or maybe bush you might've missed.

Instead, a dark structure caught your eye. Your face lit up, no matter what you'd spotted, it would keep the rain from pounding against your skull.

"Look!" You exclaimed, pointing toward your discovery and eagerly pulling Johnny in its direction.

"Shelter at last." He sighed, breaking into a smile.

You hurried up the small hill, revealing the structure to be a small and lonely cabin built from wood and stone. You'd hoped that whoever lived in it wouldn't possess a cruel heart and let you and your lover warm up inside. If not, well, Johnny could be very persuasive.

You rasped your knuckles on the heavy wooden door, waiting for a response. When no response came, you tried calling out.

"Hello? Is anyone in there?"

Still, no reply. You looked at Johnny with furrowed brows. He had a thoughtful look on his features, as if pondering between decisions before he reached out a hand to get inside. Your eyes widened and grasped his arm.

"Johnny, no! We can't just go inside-"

"I'm sure they won't mind." He shrugged, pushing open the door and ushering you inside.

The complaint on your lips died quickly as you stepped into the dry room. A sigh of relief slipped past your lips when the door fell shut behind you and the rain wasn't pouring down on you anymore.

Your gaze flitted over the interior of the cabin. It was sparse, but enough to get you and Johnny through the night and until the rain stopped.

"Surely it's not abandoned.." you mumbled, walking around.

"A huntin' cabin, maybe?" He said, looking around himself.

There was a table with a pair of chairs and in the corner stood a bed with a strong wooden frame. The centerpiece of this humble abode, however, was the stone fireplace.

"No matter. Let's hope the owners won't come back until we can continue our way home."

Johnny took the pack frame off his back and set it down, stretching his arms with a groan.

"Jus' us for miles, Ah bet." You spotted a pile of firewood by the bed, carrying arm fulls to the fireplace.

"We need to start a fire. Need to dry off." You said, arranging the logs.

Johnny kneeled down beside you and pulled his flint stones from his pocket and started on getting a tiny spark into a raging flame. While he was working on the fire, you busied yourself with laying down the sheep skins Johnny kept rolled up on this pack frame near the fireplace.

You were already intruding in someone's home, you were drawing the line at sleeping in their bed, too. The flame crackled to life, making Johnny hum. Taking off his soaking bonnet, he shook his head, his wet hair making droplets of rain fly across the room.

You giggled, shielding yourself from them as he ran a hand through his tussled mohawk.

The next thing to come off was his soaked shirt which he draped over his pack frame to let it dry. He's never looked this handsome, in your eyes. The damp locks, his bare chest covered with a layer of hair, and his Plaid hanging from his waist. The earthy, brown, and green tones shone nicely against his skin.

You couldn't help but let your gaze linger on the trail of dark hair that peaked from his waistband. Johnny could feel your eyes bore into him, a faint smirking tugging at the corner of his mouth when he noticed how you hurriedly looked away, a blush sitting on your cheeks so prettily.

You laid down on the soft furs, letting the heat of the fire seep into your bones. Johnny slotted himself behind you, his chest pressed to your back as his arms wound themselves tightly around you. He nuzzled his face into your neck, the cold tip of his nose making goosebumps rise on your skin.

"Are you sure you're not cold?" You asked softly, twisting to look at him.

"Never been cozier, my love." He hummed, pressing kisses to your jaw and cheek.

You giggled and sighed at the sensation. The exhaustion that sat deep in your flesh started to catch up with you, a yawn escaping your lips as you settled deeper into the warm sheep skins. Johnny continued his kisses, trailing them down your neck and then up to your jaw again.

"Johnny... what are you doing?" You sighed sleepily, the feeling of his lips on your skin making you all warm and fuzzy inside. His hand slipped upwards, kneading one of your soft breasts through the thick fabric of your dress.

"Warming you up, bonnie.." he mumbled against your throat, his stubble scraping against your delicate skin deliciously. A soft moan fell from your lips. It all felt so good. His lips, his hands, the outline of his hard cock pressing into your rear.

"Oh, Johnny...."

"Tha's right, mo leannan, say ma name.." he whispered softly, slipping his hand over your stomach, down your legs and underneath your skirt, bunching the wool around your hips.

His breath against your neck had your breathing pick up and your eyes flutter shut. He dragged his calloused fingertips up the inside of your thigh all while gently rocking his hips against you.

A breath got stuck in your throat when he stroked over your slit, your legs falling open just for him. You were lost in bliss, a heavy cloud of euphoria fogging up your mind as he continued to circle your clit and swipe his fingers through your folds, getting you nice and wet for him.

Your pert nipples poked through your dress, a sight Johnny couldn't resist. He snuck his second arm underneath you and pinched and tugged at your buds until you were coating his fingers in your slick.

"An absolute sight you are..." he spoke lowly, a breathless strain in his tone.

"Please, I need you, please.." you begged, mewling when he tugged his cock out from under his Plaid and rested it between your thighs, snuggly sat on your slick cunt.

"I'll give you whatever ya want, you know tha'." Johnny breathed, a groan ripping from his throat when he rocked his hips against you.

"Don't... do that.. I need.. I need.." you whined breathlessly, your words getting cut off by a moan as he pushed inside of you.

The ecstasy that flooded your veins was already making you melt into his arms, but when he reached between your legs to rub at your clit, you were putty in his hands. You were reduced to a mewling, moaning mess as he thrusted into your sweet cunt so deep yet softly, reaching parts of yourself you never knew existed.

"Ah know wha' you need.." he whispered against your temple, so sweetly, in fact, it made your head spin. You fit like puzzle pieces, made for each other. A choked moan escaped Johnny as he slid in to the hilt, pulling you impossibly closer. He pulled his hips back only to fit them snuggly against yours again in one smooth stroke.

Johnny quickly set a satisfying pace, fucking into you so nicely your eyes were rolling to the back of your head. The furs were soft against the exposed skin of your thigh and the popping fire started to fill the cabin with warmth.

The praises he cooed into your ear were a jumbled mess, not only from his pleasure but you were too far gone to think about what he was saying to you.

He held you close to his chest, grasping you so tightly as if you were to disappear the second he'd let go.

"Ah love you, my bonnie lass. Love you s'much." He muttered into your ear, the stutter in the movement of his hips indicating he was close.

But so were you, with him filing you so perfectly and his fingers rubbing over your clit.

"O-Oh, Gods... feels s'good.." you babbled mindlessly, sharp breaths and moans falling from your lips at the delicious drag of his cock against the warm walls of your cunt.

He was panting heavily into your ear, a few groans and moans making it into the mix, while he continued to snap his hips against your supple ass.

"Johnny, please..!" you cried out, every muscle in your body tensing up as that buzzing feeling of bliss gnawed at your bones, slowly working its way up to the crown of your head.

"C'mon, ma beauty, let go f'me.." he heaved, his lips attaching themselves to your neck once again.

A cry of pleasure ripped from your throat, his fingers swiping over your clit making you topple over the edge. You clenched down on him, going lax in his arms when he reached his end as well, a few more thrust making him spill inside of you with a groan.

A fuzzy feeling crawled up your spine, a dazed smile on your face as you pulled his arms around you even tighter. You laid in pleasant silence as your breath evened and the exhaustion of the say really started to set in. With a twist of your head you looked at Johnny with a soft smile.

"I love you too." You said quietly, watching how his eyes filled with warmth.

"Ah know, my love. Don't need tae say it. Ah can feel it." He mumbled until your skin, sighing as he finally settled in, ready to rest his body to prepare for the last part of the trek. Hopefully the rain would give the two of you a break, even just enough to get into town dry and warm.

The harsh fall of water softened during the night, leaving you with the sounds of Johnny's breathing, the crackling fire and the vast Highlands, stretching on for miles.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The next morning, you were up and about as soon as the sun peaked behind the horizon. The rain had subsided, and you'd use every opportunity to not get drenched again.

Everything was packed up quickly and the pack frame was hoisted onto Johnny's back once again as you left the little cabin just as neat as you'd found it.

Although the sun had decided to hide behind the clouds, there was no downpour. Only a gentle breeze that combed through the heather on the hills.

The green and purple swayed in the wind, painting a beautiful scene before you. Hand in hand, you made your through hill and glen, past trickling streams and past spots of trees huddled together.

While Johnny was busy keeping the both of you on track and occasionally admiring landscape, you were spending your time looking at him.

You wanted to etch his profile into every mountain face so the world may see what you fell in love with.

Those blue eyes that lit up whenever he smiled but had no problem becoming cold and piercing if the moment called for it.

Those lips of which you dreamed whenever you went to sleep, the feeling of them always lingering on your skin.

That voice that you could spend listening to until the world came to its end. Even if Johnny babbled and talked about things that made no sense to you, you'd always listen.

Those strong arms that could hold and protect you all at once. He'd carry you across the world if you'd ask.

You could list things about him until dusk. Until poets ran out of words. Until you'd both lay on your deathbed, ready to cross into the next realm together.

"You're starin', love." Johnny pointed out, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"I'd call it admiring, really." You quipped back, a smile on your face.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

"Oh, and what're you admirin', mo leannan?" He asked teasingly, taking his eyes off the path for the first time in hours. Johnny didn't want to admit it, but his heart leaped every time he saw you.

No matter how many times he'd seen you before, or how you'd never changed, your beauty would never fail to knock the wind out of his lungs.

"You." You hummed in response.

He nodded thoughtfully, trying to hide a bright smile.

"And why, might Ah ask?" He was teasing, a grin on his face.

He expected a compliment, how you liked his eyes, or the shape of his nose or his broad chest. And while all of that was true, the words that left you caught him off guard.

You gently stopped him, standing atop a hill, spotting the local tavern that was just out of town. Your hand went to cup his cheek, caressing his cheekbone.

"Because I'm utterly in love with you."

His jaw slacked. He knew that you loved him, of course he did, but this was the first time you'd said something like this. And what he wouldn't give to have you say it again and again. He'd never get sick of it.

Johnny cupped your hand, keeping it pressed against his cheek while his other pulled you in by your waist.

The baffled expression was quickly replaced with a soft smile and eyes that were looking at you with so much love and devotion even the sweetest honey would taste bitter in comparison.

"As am I." He spoke softly, connecting your lips in a kiss full of passion and adoration.

Caught up in your feelings, you'd failed to notice how thick clouds darkened the sky. In a change of fate, it started pouring once more, leaving you and Johnny without cover and in the middle of a kiss that could be written in a fairytale.

As the first drops fell down on you, your brows furrowed and you let out a sound of disapproval against his lips. Johnny chuckled, keeping you firmly in place when you tried to pull away.

"We need to get to that tavern-"

"Let's enjoy this, yeah?" He spoke softly, chasing your lips once again.

The rain was pounding down on you but how could you ever care about that when Johnny was kissing your breath away. You were held firmly in his embrace, melting into the kiss as water droplets were running down your face, the rain drenching you to the bone.

There was nowhere you'd rather be at this moment. The rain and wind were making you uncomfortable, shivers running through you, but the warmth Johnny ignited in your heart was enough to keep you warm for centuries. You pulled away, breathless, smiling at him.

"Come on!" You giggled, pulling him by the hands to follow you as you ran down the hill.

He had to hold onto his bonnet so it wouldn't go flying with the amount of force you'd tugged at him.

Between the heavy rain, only your pounding footsteps, along with giggled and laughter, was heard as you rushed down the slope, hand in hand.

"Slow down, will ya?" Johnny laughed, almost tripping and landing face first in the mud.

It was scene straight from a book. Two lovers running free, not even the worst storms being able to stop them.

The mud and wet grass made you stumble more than once, but the sheer happiness of such a special moment made the dirt caking your dress and the water running down the back of your neck a worthy sacrifice.

When you reached the bottom of the hill, Johnny slowed the both of you down and wrapped his arms around your middle. You were hoisted up, a noise of surprise falling from your lips, as he spun you around.

You pressed your lips to his in a giggly kiss while Johnny set you back down.

"Ah truly love you more than ya could ever know, my love." He said softly, rubbing his thumb over your wet cheek.

"I love you too. I know I've said it a million times, but I can't stop." You chuckled softly, earning yourself another soft kiss from Johnny before he finally pulled you into the tavern.

The evening was spent wrapped in blankets, an ale in hand while you sat in your favorite little corner. Music was playing and people were dancing, but you were content right here.

Next to Johnny, your head on his shoulder, gently nodding off so you could dream of him and wake up tomorrow, just to do it all over again.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

What do we think of Highlander!Johnny? 👀

More of my work -> 💫

We're gonna ignore the typos.... pls

#bumblebeesfromvenus #Highlander!Johnny #Highlander!Soap #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish #soap x reader #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x you #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #cod x reader

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girls--complex · 7 days ago

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hello dear friend today i am at the ocean and its vastness is such a home. i watched an open sea swimmer through binoculars and awed at their readily proximity to death, and their solidly remaining above it. the Pacific is so cold too. but! water! sky! horizon forever and creatures unimaginable! siphonophores! whalefall! the substance of this earth!

love, dove

hi Dove,

Lovely words as always. I haven't visited the ocean in a long time, because my dog doesn't like cold or wet or loud, but I like to go on the full moon and watch them fight or make love or ??? I've instead been wandering swamps and forests and in-between places and listening to the trees whisper their same prayers over and over, or, more often, idling at long florida traffic lights with half my face slowly cooking, watching an egret hunt german roaches outside of Taco Bell...

The next new moon will begin the year of the wood snake... The snake is the spleen, that is pancreas sort of, minister of sweet sticky nutrition and brooding, really brooding like a mother bird, thought and care and worry. And wood, urgent and eager wood, strident and angry, in whose rigid cells syrupy dreams bubble up and drift. Grandfather and grandson, or grandson and grandfather, the sweet and the sour-- taking turns, we hope, and tempering each other with minimal insult. And a yin year, a year of gravity, solid things, and history making itself felt.

The bodily microcosm is dark, and full of unseen life, and of course has its currents, its decay, and its black holes (??) Living in a body, too, moving, the spine swimming in its armor, the heart in his pericardium, and floating brain, all its dynamic counter-balances braced over the pit of death. And cold, often. And for me, my ox runs over the snake with wooden cartwheels every time the snake comes out to sun herself. So I have work to do too, bringing sun to the snake, and water to the ox.

My orb of vision portends a year of dreaming and service and shadow-work and making-real what the ox has dreamed in his little hours. And mugwort, mullein, and holy basil, and root vegetables, and barefoot walks in the pine hammock, if God wills it.

#I have to put this thought down before meeting -_-"

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noise-vs-signal · 2 months ago

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The Ritual of Ascent Through the Celtic Tree of Life: Journey Through the Realms of the Celtic Otherworld

Purpose

This ritual guides the practitioner through an ascent of the Celtic Tree of Life. The journey follows the Three Realms of Land, Sea, and Sky, moving through the Nine Realms of the Celtic Otherworld.

The final goal is to reach the summit of Emain Ablach (Isle of Apples), representing the highest state of wisdom, sovereignty, and divine kingship.

This ritual calls upon the wisdom of Celtic deities, ancestors, and the Sidhe (Fae spirits), encouraging the practitioner to confront their shadow, integrate their power, and achieve self-sovereignty. At the end of the ritual, you will be crowned with the Crown of Sovereignty, a symbol of spiritual completion and mastery.

Deities and Spirits Invoked

Arawn (Lord of Annwn, Underworld, Hidden Knowledge)

The Morrigan (Sovereignty, Transformation, Shadow Self)

The Dagda (Power, Kingship, and Mastery)

Brigid (Fire, Healing, and Divine Insight)

Manannán mac Lir (Sea God, Guardian of the Mists)

Lugh (Sun God, Warrior, and Divine Light)

Fae and Sidhe (Spirits of the Land, Sea, and Sky)

Materials Needed

9 Candles (for each of the Celtic Realms):

Black (Annwn), Blue (Tir fo Thuinn), Gray (Forest of Fog), White (Tir na nÓg), Green (Mortal Realm), Red (Tir na mBan), Gold (Isle of Apples), Silver (The Shining Land), Yellow (Upper Realm).

Altar facing Northwest (the traditional entrance to the Otherworld).

Ancestral Symbol (a personal sigil, ogham stave, or family crest).

Bowl of Saltwater (for purification).

Offering of bread, honey, or mead (for the ancestors, Sidhe, and deities).

Mirror or Water Bowl (used to reflect and witness one’s inner journey).

Incense: Mugwort, Juniper, and Myrrh (to connect to the Otherworld and sacred groves).

Preparation

Cleanse the Ritual Space

Burn Mugwort, Juniper, and Myrrh incense to open the space to the power of the Celtic Realms.

Arrange the 9 candles in a circle.

Place a bowl of saltwater at the center of the altar for purification.

Place your ancestral sigil at the center of the altar.

Personal Preparation

Wash your hands with the saltwater, symbolizing purification of mind and body.

Anoint your forehead with Mugwort or Myrrh oil, symbolizing the awakening of ancestral sight.

Dress in robes or clothing in green, white, or red to embody the power of the Celtic Three Realms (Land, Sea, and Sky).

Anoint the Ancestral Symbol

Hold your ancestral symbol and anoint it with Mugwort or Myrrh oil.

Say:"By Land, Sea, and Sky, I call forth the power of my ancestors. By the will of Arawn, The Dagda, and Brigid, Blood of my blood, Witness me now as I walk the path of sovereignty."

The Ritual

1. Opening the Space

Stand at the base of the Tree of Life.

Raise your arms and visualize a Great Tree rising from the center of the world, its roots reaching deep into the underworld, and its branches touching the heavens.

Call upon the Four Elements as follows:

North (Earth, Annwn) — Light the Black Candle:

"Spirits of the North, Guardians of the Roots, Blood of the Ancestors, rise with me now."

East (Air, The Shining Land) — Light the Silver Candle:

"Spirits of the East, Breath of the Sidhe, Grant me the vision of clarity as I rise."

South (Fire, Upper Realm) — Light the Yellow Candle:

"Spirits of the South, Flames of Lugh, Burn away all doubt as I rise in power."

West (Water, Tir fo Thuinn) — Light the Blue Candle:

"Spirits of the West, Waters of Manannán, Reveal to me the hidden worlds beneath the waves."

2. Ascent Through the Celtic Realms

Begin with Annwn and light its candle, saying:"By the Power of Annwn, I rise from the Roots of the Underworld. Arawn, Lord of Shadows, guide me."

Tir na nÓg (Rebirth)"By the Power of Tir na nÓg, I step through the veil of immortality. I rise with the youth of my bloodline."

Tir fo Thuinn (Land Beneath the Sea)"By the Power of Tir fo Thuinn, I rise from the Waters of Manannán. Hidden wisdom rises with me."

The Forest of Fog (Illusion)"By the Power of the Shadowed Forest, I confront my shadow and claim its power."

The Mortal Realm (Balance)"By the Power of the Mortal Realm, I stand in the Center of the Tree, Balanced between Light and Shadow."

Tir na mBan (Land of Women)"By the Power of Tir na mBan, I claim the gifts of love, passion, and desire."

The Isle of Apples (Kingship)"By the Power of the Isle of Apples, I am crowned with wisdom, As King of My Own Realm."

The Shining Land (The Sidhe)"By the Power of the Shining Land, I walk among the Shining Ones, May their guidance be with me."

The Upper Realm (Sovereignty)"By the Power of the Upper Realm, I am crowned with divine sovereignty, I am Sovereign of the Land, Sea, and Sky."

#tree of life #ritual #celtic mythology #witchblr

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decaying-opossum · 4 months ago

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| tyler owens x reader x scott |

|unofficial part 1/?| |word count: 1418|

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Their eyes widened in awe as they stood ankle-deep in the rapidly rising floodwater, completely captivated by the ominous view of the dark, turbulent sky above. Despite the urgent cries of a desperate voice calling out their name, they couldn't tear their gaze away from the raging storm brewing over the churning sea. The immense power of nature seemed to hold them in a trance, even as the water threatened to pull them farther from the safety of the shore.

the storm, with its relentless fury, appeared simultaneously terrifying and breathtaking, like a vengeful goddess unleashing her wrath upon the earth. It was a sight to behold as it ripped trees from the ground and transformed solid ground into a turbulent sea, claiming it as her own domain. Only the gasp of surprise as they were abruptly pulled back brought them out of their reverie, their father swiftly scooping them up and rushing them away from the water's edge and back toward the road.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

the motel bed creaked, old metal frame whining under the weight that shifted on it "scott...scotty..baby wake up!" they shook the man, who shifted, giving them a half asleep look of annoyance "stop it, go back to sleep" he dismissed them rolling over "come on" they whined back putting their face against his neck "it's 6:15! let's go find some storms to chase!"

"we don't leave until 8. go back to sleep"

they huffed, flopping back next to him "ya know tornadoes don't have office hours" "yeah well storm par does, now at least be quiet so i can sleep" they sighed, knowing not to push him anymore, especially in his sleepy state.

"i'm sorry, 'm just excited..it's gonna be so fun, my first official chase!" they gushed, sitting up again "it's not fun, it's work, you have to stay focused today. you don't have a hall pass to be stupid and reckless just because we're engaged. on company time you're a stormPar employee first and foremost"

their shoulders drop at that "..i didn't expect special treatment.." a lie, of course they had expected a little special treatment, they were engaged and scott was the only reason they had even met the 'qualifications' for storm par, having helped them go to school just so they could work with him instead of staying at 'home' working a shitty job and waiting for the season to end for him to come back home.

deep down they were nervous to work along side him, nervous of his expectations. he was harsh, they had seen it the few times they visited him at work, something that ever so often made them question their relationship was the way he treated others, he was so degrading to the stormPar crew. but at the same time they all just took it, the storm par team stayed the same, so perhaps what they've seen was just bad days. they hoped they were.

"well boss, what're we doing today?" they said getting off the bed and beginning to get dressed despite scott attempting to coax them back to bed. he sighed their name, shoving his face further into the pillow "..we gotta get some kinda data for riggs, so probably find a storm" "don't get sarcastic, im excited" they sat on the edge of the bed, almost sitting on his long legs "i know you're sleepy but show me a lil more excitement please..we've been working so hard for today"

their words finally made him melt enough to roll over on his back and look up at them "god you're pathetic, come here" he said at their hurt puppy look, tugging them to lay on his chest "..javi convinced his little girlfriend from new york to come out, so your first day unfortunately probably won't be great" they slumped at that, face falling at his negativity "but...there is supposed to be some interesting systems rolling in west of here, you'll see a tornado eventually...get you're little adrenaline junky rush you want so bad"

his reassurance made them giggle, pecking his lips before resting their head down on his chest "..i guess a lil more sleep won't hurt.." they mumbled with a small smile as scott wrapped his arms around them.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

the small truck stop was rowdy, full of people rushing about in cheap rain ponchos, some drinking despite the earliness of the morning, music played from various cars making it all a little overwhelming "god damnit.." scott sighed at the sight as they walked down towards the storm par vehicles "what is all this?" they asked, confused at the state of once empty lot, yesterday when they arrived the truck stop was creepily empty and not even 12 hours later it was packed.

"it's nothing, just ignore it" he took their wrist and tugged them alone "don't seem like nothing..seems like a party.." "it's a circus of idiots, ignore them" they silence nodded, pulling back their arm back so scott was holding their hand instead.

it wasn't too complicated once scott went over all the equipment, they weren't entirely sure why they even needed a degree when the computers did everything but they wouldn't tell that to scott, simply nodding along as he showed them everything.

"..are you even listening to me?" scott's annoyed tone brought them out of their thoughts "no..i'm sorry, you're just so handsome in uniform" they smiled but it didn't waver his annoyance "i meant what i said, no special treatment" his finger in their face like a scolding parent "my expectations for you are higher then anyone else because i know what you can do" they looked down and nodded "alright, alright, sorry"

his hand briefly landed on their shoulder and giving a light squeeze, it was a subtle gesture of an apology and an i love you while he maintained his professional persona "there's javi" he sighed as javi got out of his truck with a blonde woman, javi calling everyone to huddle up and introducing her to the group and vice versa, giving the crews colleges rather then names. they awkwardly stood off behind scott, offering a tight smile to the woman, kate, as javi had introduced "only the best" javi grinned after kate dryly joked about it being the whole alphabet.

"except for scott, my partner here, he went to MIT instead of muskogee state, but uh he makes for it with his beautiful amazing personality" javi joked shaking scott's shoulder slight, they peaked around scott's shoulder as scott gave a sarcastic smile.

"well kate's only giving us a week, but while we have her ooh it's gonna be the wildest tornado you've ever seen, fellas" javi said causing the crew to laugh in anticipation "this is gonna be so fun" they muttered lowly to scott, rubbing his back "don't get your hopes up..everyone with a ten dollar weather app knows it, we gotta stay ahead of this circus" they followed his gaze to the large crowd they had questioned him about earlier "don't be mean" they tapped his back in a scold.

over the commotion of the crowd, one source of music seemed to be getting louder, closer, and people started moving towards where it was coming from in excitement. a red dually leading a van and RV, horn blaring over the music the RV played.

hm, that truck looks familiar..

"hey, stormPar! we're live on youtube, say something!" oh god "blow me boone!" scott put a hand up to hush the guy from acting up in front of the camera "don't engage. don't engage" their heart felt like it was simultaneously in their feet, gut and throat all at once as they spun around to face away, a quiet prayer that they wouldn't be recognized; a hope that by some miracle their entire being would morph into someone else.

"hey, smile, man, science is fun right?" they wanted to vanish. needed too. their face burned with embarrassment, and shame almost, as they tried to think of how to wiggle their self from having to explain some loop of excuses as reasons, or even just having to have awkward small talk with tyler like they hadn't completely ghosted the poor guy 6 years ago "who are they?" "chasers out of arkansas" "hillbillies with a youtube channel"

"scott- i gotta uh use the bathroom- imma be back.." they tapped on his arm "..you alright?" he glanced back at them, an eyebrow peaking out from his sunglasses " 'm perfect..find us a good storm for my first official chase" they gave a tight smile before jogging off.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

{idk, this is kinda short. i was gonna write a little more on here but i’m completely stumped on what to do with them meeting tyler, so i’m hoping having if be a separate part will help, or who knows, i might even rewrite this whole thing since i’m not sure how i feel abt it. feedback would rlly appreciated it’s been forever since i’ve actually wrote something}

#twisters scott x reader #tyler owens x reader #twisters x reader #twisters scott #twisters 2024 #tyler owens #i feel like a wrote scott too mean to the reader 😭#i hope i didn’t #i’m just not used to writing anymore 😔

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thescarlettbitch · 5 months ago

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Mesopotamian Pantheon Explained

Hello! My name is Red, I am a devotee of the Mesopotamian Goddess Inanna, and it makes me sad to see that not a lot of people know about her, let alone the rest of her pantheon, so I thought I'd make a post about everyone, or at least, everyone I can. I've made a masterpost about her, and I really enjoyed it, as it gave me an "excuse" to learn about her, and this is the same. In this post I will be naming the gods and their domains and their relations with each other. If prompted, I would love to do a deep dive on every deity in this pantheon I can. Unfortunately, there are over a thousand deities across all Mesopotamian cultures, so this is by no means a complete list or anything similar.

So, first, what is Mesopotamia? Mesopotamia means "land between the rivers", the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, and it is the term to define the whole region and the various cultures that lived there. This includes Sumer, Akkadia, and Babylon. Despite culture being different, they shared similarities in written language, religion, and attitude towards women. The gods may have had different names at different points, but they were the same deity to all, often referred to interchangeably. This region gave birth to about 50 firsts of man.

But, on to the Gods!

The first thing to know about the Pantheon and how people worked with them, is that mortals believed them to be coworkers with the deities, and that they worked together to maintain order. (*edit: this fact is disputed, the idea that humans were seen mostly as servants seems to be more popular*) Due to differences in cultures, each civilization viewed the deities differently, so Marduk might have been king of the Gods in Babylon, Enlil was king of the Gods in Sumer. The heavenly Gods were referred to as Igigi, and occasionally Anunnaki, though in some sources Anunnaki was the older or "major" Gods, and the Igigi were the lower ranking Gods.

We are going to start with the Seven Divine Powers, the oldest Sumerian deities. (*edit: largely thought to have been manufactured later in history*)

Anu - sky god

Enki - god of wisdom

Enlil - lord of the air, sumerian king of the Gods.

Inanna - goddess of love, fertility, and war, queen of the heavens

Nanna - goddess of the moon

Ninhursag - mother goddess

Utu/Shamash - god of the sun

Other popular deities include

Assur/Ashur - supreme god of the Assyrians

Ereshkigal - goddess of the underworld

Gula - goddess of health and healing

Marduk - babylonian king of the gods

Nabu - god of writing

Nanshe - goddess of social justice

Nergal - god of war

Ninkasi - goddess of beer and brewing

Nisaba - goddess of agriculture, turned to writing and accounts

Dumuzid/Tammuz - god of shepherds

Enkimdu - god of farmers, seen as the personification of the irrigation system

Geshtinanna - goddess of scribal arts and dream interpretation (theorized)

Bau - mother goddess, healing

Ishkur - god of storms and rain

Ištaran - god of divine justice

Nanaya - goddess of love

Nanshe - goddess of divination

Ninazu - associated with the underworld, though his role is disputed

Ninlil - wife of Enlil, thought to be "artificially created" as Enlil's equal

Ninshubur - god(dess) attendant of Inanna (in some sources she is masculine, and others feminine)

Zababa - war god

Alammush - god attendant of Nanna

Sherida - goddess of dawn

Apsu - primeval freshwater

Tiamat - primeval sea

Creation-

The Mesopotamians had many different tellings of the creation of the world, most likely due to the cultural differences. Atra-Hasis, Eridu Genesis, and Enuma Elish are the most common, as we have physical copies of them today. They, among other sources, depict a different family tree, but with key similarities.

Atra-Hasis: Anu, Enlil, and Enki cast lots to determine who rules what. Anu the sky, Enlil the earth, and Enki the sea. Enlil assigned minor gods to farm, but after many years the minor divines refused. Enki suggested to make humans to do the labor. Mother goddess Mami fashions humans out of clay, flesh, and blood of a slain god, and all the gods spit on the clay. After ten months, humans emerged from a specifically made womb. After many years, humans have overpopulated, so Enlil sends famine and drought every 1200 years. Enlil decides to destroy humanity by flood. Enki goes to hero Atra-Hasis and tells him of the plan, instructing him to demolish his house and build a boat. He does, and he brings his family and his animals and seals the door. When the flood comes it stays for seven days and even the gods are afraid. It ends and Enlil is furious with Enki for breaking the vow of silence but eventually the two agree to find other means of controlling the human population.

Eridu Genesis: the beginning of this has been lost to time. The surviving portion starts with Nintur, the goddess who birthed humanity, where she calls for them to he sedentary and civilized. Then more is missing. It resumes with humanity still being nomadic and barbaric. Nintur is stilling planning to provide kingship to the mortals. Then cities emerge, are named, and become distributional economies. Humans begin to annoy the gods, Enlil was unable to sleep, and made the brash decision to destroy humanity with a flood. Enki tells Ziusudra, a human, and tells him to build a boat to save himself and one couple of every animal. Ziusudra does as he is told and the flood comes. Humanity survives, but the rest is lost to time.

Enuma Elish: at the beginning, Apsu and Tiamet existed, co-mingled. From them came Lahmu and Lahamu. Then Anshar and Kishar, and from Anshar came the god Anu and from Anu came Nudimmumd/Ea. These new gods made noise that annoyed Apsu, who called to Mummu to speak with Tiamat, who proposed to destroy them, but Tiamat was reluctant. Mummu advised Apsu to destroy them. The new gods were worried, but Ea crafted a spell to lull Apsu to sleep. Mummu couldn't wake him. Ea took the halo from Apsu and wore it, slew Apsu and chained Mummu, living in Apsu with his wife, Damkina. Together, in Apsu, they created Marduk. Other gods made fun of Tiamat for not doing anything as Apsu was killed. Tiamat made monsters to fight the gods, eleven chimeric monsters with weapons, lead by her new consort Kingu, and gave him the tablets of destinies. Ea heard of the plan and went to his grandfather Anshar, who proposed Marduk as their champion. Marduk said he would win against Tiamat but that he would need to be king of the Gods if he did so. The others were wary but eventually relented. Marduk was given a throne and many supplies to fight Tiamat. He won and split her body in two, fashioning the sky from one half, places for Anu, Enlil, and Ea in it. He made likenesses of the gods in the stars, and from that he made the days of the year. He made night and day and the moon, he made storms and wind and rain, and gave the tablet of destinies to Anu. Marduk told Ea that he was going to use his blood to create man to serve the Gods, but Ea said that another should be chosen as sacrifice. Kingu was chosen, so man was made using his blood.

So... where do these other gods fit into the family tree?

Great question.

An and Ki had Enlil and Enki.

Enlil and Ninlil had Nanna, Nergal, Ninazu, and Enbilulu.

Enlil and Ninhursag had Ninurta.

Nanna and Ningal (in some sources) had Ereshkigal, Inanna, and Utu. In other sources, Enlil, An, or Enki were their parents.

Ereshkigal and Anu had Nungal.

Ereshkigal and Gugalanna had Ninazu. In other sources, Enlil and Ninlil, or Nanna were his parents.

Utu and Aya had Mamu, Kittum, Ishum, and Sisig.

Enki and Duttur had Dumuzid and Geshtinanna.

Either Sin, Urash, or Anu, and Inanna, had Nanaya.

Dumuzid and Inanna were married, but bore no children together.

Thank you for reading this major info-dump and lmk if you guys want any specifics or deep dives on someone! <3

#witchblr #witchcraft #deity work #deity witchcraft #deity devotion #deity worship #mesopotamian mythology #mesopotamia #sumer #sumerian mythology #babylon #babylonian mythology #inanna #ereshkigal #utu shamash

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greekmocha · 3 months ago

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HEIGHT ORDER

General height order from tallest to shortest among the big / original six sibling gods in Greek mythology (+ additional ones at bottom).

1. Poseidon: (Ocean is so many meters tall- and different zones of the ocean, so I figure there would be more growing room, thus— Tallest brother. Also wasn’t in the stomach as long as Hestia and Hades in my hc anyway. Also additional note: there’s the Hadal Zone at the bottom of the ocean, for a fun idea, what if that was where Hades and Poseidon met sometimes to hang out? :)

2. Demeter: (Once again, the distance between the earth to atmosphere is pretty damn big, and I know while she deals in the harvest mostly- I’m also saying she probably deals in trees, and one of the biggest is around 116M in height. So I figure she’d only be second to Poseidon.)

3. Zeus: (Sky is pretty large, obviously, so I figure his height could alter, going from small -> big -> large. So can switch around. And his growth was never stunted or hindered due to having never been swallowed).

4. Hera: (Same as Zeus’s honestly, also because due to my general hc for birth order (Hera as second to youngest) she wasn’t in the stomach as long as the others, so her growth wasn’t as stunted + She was also fostered during the Titanomachy with Oceanus in the ocean, so her thing is a bit similar to Poseidons—

5. Hades: (I know some would probably see him as one of the tallest- considering the earths inner core is absolutely large. And technically he is.) His true form is the biggest in my mind, but like the forms they go around in? I like to say his is one of the shorter ones. He’s used to being small in the stomach, it’s natural. I also thought of dwarves somewhat, like live below the earth, height smaller to fit in caves and what not.

6. Hestia: (Similar to Hades’s reasoning, was in their the longest- and was used to being small to fit in places when trapped. Also due to the idea that a flame is smaller without oxygen. So this can also alter like Hades’, her true form would probably be one of the biggest too depending on where she is? In Olympus, larger then life- filled with so much, and not constrained. Though also somewhat angsty idea is: could be a good reason for an au on why she doesn’t visit the Underworld too much, she’s limited.

ADDITIONAL MENTION:

3.5 Persephone: She’s the child of one of the two tallest gods of them all— and most spacious places on Gaia, the earth and sky. She had plenty of room to grow, and considering her mother is the god of harvest and agriculture (was likely always well fed, and given proper nutrients) so peek condition. Id like to imagine that she’s a head or so taller then her husband in the more mortal forms. Also additional hc: she has muscles from working on farms. That’s my take. G’day.

3.5 Ares: Generally same reasons as Persephone, two of the tallest gods- and sure they don’t have genetics, but this is headcanons alright? Anything goes. Gets plenty of exercise and activity (combat, training, war, etcetera). So those two are probably around the same height. I also like to see him as the eldest son in one version of the Heph myth (With Hephaetsus being born after Athena) while where Heph is thrown off the mountain as an adult, he’s either the second or first son of Zeus and Hera.

0.5 Aphrodite: She did come from the sea (place of all life and rather large), and cut off man bits of Ouranos- So she’s the aunt of the big six technically. I figured it’d be good that she was taller than all of them.

#greek mythology #Greek mythology hc #Hades #Demeter #Persephone #Zeus #Hestia #Hera #Ares #Poseidon #greek gods #incorrect greek gods #my au anyway #my birth order hc from old post ->#hestia > hades > demeter > poseidon > hera > zeus #height order #height order Greek mythology

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mydearlybeloathed · 7 months ago

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thinking about persephone again

[i encourage everyone to read the homeric hymn to demeter its my favorite piece of literature and i think about it frequently.]

thinking about how she was simply a young girl picking flowers. something that should have been her sanctuary. she's a goddess of life. her mother is demeter. why should she be cautious in the arms of the earth that built her?

about how she was betrayed by her father, her grandmother, and her uncle all in one day.

"He seized her against her will, put her on his golden chariot, 20 And drove away as she wept. She cried with a piercing voice, calling upon her father [Zeus], the son of Kronos, the highest and the best. But not one of the immortal ones, or of human mortals, heard her voice. Not even the olive trees which bear their splendid harvest."

those lines always crush me.

"So long as the earth and the star-filled sky were still within the goddess’s [Persephone’s] view, as also the fish-swarming sea [pontos], with its strong currents, 35 as also the rays of the sun, she still had hope that she would yet see her dear mother and that special group, the immortal gods. For that long a time her great noos was soothed by hope, distressed as she was."

noos means mind, if im correct. she still has hope in the gods. even after this terrible act upon her. at this point her innocence is still intact as she longs for her mother.

"And the Lady Mother [Demeter] heard her. 40 And a sharp akhos seized her heart."

if im not mistaken, akhos translates to a terrible grief. quaking rn this isn't a love story this is a tragedy.

over and over demeter begs for respect from her fellow gods and goddesses, pleading for help in the search for her daughter. and no one dared to listen to her until the wrath and will of demeter could no longer be ignored.

the wrath of a mother cast the earth in wilting death, and olympus could no longer ignore her.

and even then, when they called upon her, she did not listen till they threw down their pride and obeyed her.

and when they finally heed her words, hades obeys, but not without a trick. he litters persephone with sweet words of how he is to be good to her... until she rushes to leave, and the sharade falls flat.

“So then, Mother, I shall tell you everything, ........ I sprang up for joy, but he, stealthily, put into my hand the berry of the pomegranate, that honey-sweet food, and he compelled me by biē to eat of it."

biē.

biē translates to force/violence. I CANNOT BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS STORY. PERSEPHONE DID NOT CHOOSE THIS LIFE.

even when demeter does everything in her power, even when she forces the hand of olympus, the love of a mother is not respected by the gods. the patriarchy of olympus is very evident.

don't get me wrong, i enjoy many modern interpretations of hades and persephone. but ive yet to see one done right. but i didn't write a whole ass essay on why modern interpretations miss the point of the original story for nothing. shaking the bars of my enclosure rn.

i cannot wait to learn greek and latin ill be unstoppable once i can read it without a translation. one day ill be in the room where this discussion can be had and i can get all this passion out of my head.

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nadas-dirthalen · 5 months ago

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Veilguard Theorycrafting Thursdays: The Evanuris & Their Lyrium War

Welcome, one and all! While I count down to Veilguard's Halloween release, I'm going to dissect one tinfoil hat theory I have per week.

This week: I think the Evanuris were waging war over lyrium, and I think that in their desire to Blight the world, they killed the only one standing in their way - Mythal.

Elaboration, brainstorming, and sources below the cut! Be warned: this post is LONG.

SPOILERS for the Trespasser DLC, Tevinter Nights, and all Dragon Age games so far, INCLUDING VEILGUARD PROMOTIONAL CONTENT.

"The First of My People:" from Earth and Sky

Before I talk about what the Evanuris became, it's important to lay out my theories about how they came to be. So, to start, let's talk about Elgar'nan, first of the gods, and what the wiki says about his origins:

He was the first of the elven gods, born of the sun and the earth.

Now, to understand the deeper meaning I glean from that sentence alone, I want to talk about how the ancient elves view "the sun" and "the earth," and how neither of these things are as simple as they sound.

First, we can talk about Skyhold: literally the place where the sky was held back, where Solas first created the Veil. With this translation, we can understand that to the ancient elves, the sky and the Fade are interchangeable terms.

From what we can glean from the wiki, we can assume that the elven word 'elgar' means 'spirit.' The word for 'sun' is incredibly similar: 'elgara.'

Therefore, I conclude that the sun and the Fade are the same. One part of Elgar'nan comes from the Fade, in my interpretation. As do all elvhen: I interpret it to mean spirit-essence or spirit-people, suggesting the elvhen are spirits given shape (versus the elven, ostensibly their descendants).

In the Vir Dirthara, you find this codex:

The pages of this book—memory?—show a solemn group of elves in an ampitheater of living wood, entire trees grown into seats and stairs for the listeners to recline on. Two other elves and a spirit of learning are speaking in turn on ways to bend the properties of the material world when casting spells. At the end, the spirit, with the air of a senior lecturer, floats forward and booms in a surprisingly deep voice. "The unchanging world is delicate: spells of power invite disaster and annihilation. The unchanging world is stubborn: the pull of the earth fiercely resists making fire run like water or stone rise like mist. The unchanging world rings with its own harmony. Listen with fearless hearts, and great works will unfold."

Note how these words are being used. The unchanging world is a reference to the waking world, what would become our side of the Veil. But in that world, there is a pull of the earth. This references the deep earth, and its own magic: the magic of the Titans.

Therefore, Elgar'nan is one part "earth" and one part "sun" or "sky." One part Fade, one part Titan magic. In my interpretation? One part lyrium.

I believe Elgar'nan and Mythal, first of the Evanuris, are spirits who became corporeal, somehow involving the magic of Titans. Even though Mythal is said to have risen from the sea, I believe Elgar'nan and Mythal both began their existence spontaneously. They made themselves corporeal, and would go on to create more together. (More on that in a different post!)

From lyrium they came; to lyrium they all would fall.

Mythal and the Titans

Before we go into the Evanuris waging war on one another, we must understand their relationship to lyrium in the first place. How did they go from their own domain to underground, and what laid the groundwork for this infighting?

In the light of the veilfire, the runes seem to shift, coiling and uncoiling like snakes. A thunderous voice shatters the stillness, shouting: "Hail Mythal, adjudicator and savior! She has struck down the pillars of the earth and rendered their demesne unto the People! Praise her name forever!"

If you've done the Descent DLC, the Inquisitor will go on to say, "The runes say the Evanuris fought the Titans. They mined their bodies for lyrium and... something else. It's not clear."

Personally, I'm not sure when Mythal and the Evanuris first began slaying titans. Maybe this precipitated their own corporeal origins. Maybe she and Elgar'nan became corporeal using the bodies of the slain.

What is clear is this: their demesne was given to the People. What is the Titans' property? All we know is that lyrium is their lifeblood. Other than territory underground, this is all that could be given to the People. (More on my thoughts on this and the origin of the other Evanuris in a later week, I promise.)

The Evanuris and Lyrium

For now, one theory I have is that the Evanuris then created unliving servants from lyrium. We see this in another Vir Dirthara codex.

The pages of this book—memory?—show a narrow plateau on top of a mountain, Two armored figures—one in gold, one in black—are fighting in the snow. Steel flickers so fast the air hums. Blood dots the ground. They do not stop for breath. The one in black makes no sound as a blade parts his throat. "Mythal, in her wisdom, interceded in an argument between Elgar'nan and Falon'Din. With clever words, she convinced them to settle their grievance through a battle of their champions. Elgar'nan and Falon'Din agreed, and set their champions against each other rather than declare war among the gods. May those knights long be remembered, and Mythal's wisdom be praised."

These things aren't human! They bleed, but don't breathe. They never stop fighting. This duel lasts 100 years.

But we know that the Evanuris' handling of the Titans and lyrium did not end there.

For a moment, the scent of blood fills the air, and there is a vivid image of green vines growing and enveloping a sphere of fire. The vision grows dark. An aeon seems to pass. Then the runes crackle, as if filled with an angry energy. A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic. Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells is cast. A voice whispers: "What the Evanuris in their greed could unleash would end us all. Let this place be forgotten. Let no one wake its anger. The People must rise before their false gods destroy them all."

The Hubris of Andruil and the Origin of the Blight

Let me be clear. I think there is so much more to Mythal's murder than "Andruil and Falon'din were greedy and upset." But I do know that Andruil and Falon'din are both cited in Inquisition, from various sources, as being greedy and willing to push boundaries in order to further their own gain.

First, we have Andruil: goddess not of the hunt, as the Dalish believe, but of sacrifice, according to Solas in the Temple of Mythal.

One day Andruil grew tired of hunting mortal men and beasts. She began stalking the Forgotten Ones, wicked things that thrive in the abyss. Yet even a god should not linger there, and each time she entered the Void, Andruil suffered longer and longer periods of madness after returning. Andruil put on armor made of the Void, and all forgot her true face. She made weapons of darkness, and plague ate her lands. She howled things meant to be forgotten, and the other gods became fearful Andruil would hunt them in turn.

We know that blight disease is sometimes referred to as a "plague." We also know that prolonged lyrium use causes mutations in mages. We also know that red lyrium is Blighted lyrium - the blood of a Blighted Titan.

We also know that regular lyrium can, at the very least, empower a templar's anti-magic abilities. And we know what Mythal did to Andruil for her frequent trips to the Void.

[Andruil] howled things meant to be forgotten, and the other gods became fearful Andruil would hunt them in turn. So Mythal spread rumors of a monstrous creature and took the form of a great serpent, waiting for Andruil at the base of a mountain. When Andruil came, Mythal sprang on the hunter. They fought for three day and nights, Andruil slashing deep gouges in the serpent's hide. But Mythal's magic sapped Andruil's strength, and stole her knowledge of how to find the Void. After this, the great hunter could never make her way back to the abyss, and peace returned.

The moment I found out that memories are stored in lyrium, I had strong feelings about this codex. Especially since Solas, once absorbing Mythal's power at the end of Inquisition, gains the ability to use dwarven magic (turning people to stone with a thought). My interpretation is that Mythal has always been able to use this magic, for whatever reason, and was able to take Andruil's memories from her, storing those memories somewhere else. (There's a whole other theory branching from that, but it is not for this post.)

Point being: Mythal actively worked to prevent the other Evanuris from delving too deep into lyrium/Stone magic/the Void.

And it would be her downfall.

The Lone Voice of Reason, Doomed

Given the Evanuris' relationship to lyrium and the Titans, it would only be a matter of time before their desire to amass power would bring them too far, past the point of no return.

This would drive them to murdering Mythal, but not right away.

First, we can see countless examples of Evanuris greed leading up to Mythal's murder. Ghilan'nain created monsters of all shapes and sizes before the Evanuris raised her to godhood in fear. In Horror of Hormak, we gain a little insight into this process: a laboratory in the Deep Roads, an awful briny fluid, and a yellow-green lyrium crystal powering everything, which is then used to collapse the strange mountain above the laboratory, destroying it.

Later, Ghilan'nain encourages one of Dirthamen's followers to take a winged shape reserved for the gods, presumably a dragon. This sends Mythal into such quick anger that she turns this person to Elgar'nan for judgement, knowing his judgement is violent and cannot be trusted.

Second, Solas talking about Falon'Din in the Temple of Mythal makes me think that Falon'Din attempted a very similar rebellion, only to meet a similar failure.

INQUISITOR: Do you know any legends? SOLAS: It is said Falon’Din’s appetite for adulation was so great, he began wars to amass more worshippers. The blood of those who wouldn’t bow low filled lakes as wide as oceans. Mythal rallied the gods, once the shadow of Falon’Din’s hunger stretched across her own people. It was almost too late. Falon’Din only surrendered when his brethren bloodied him in his own temple. INQUISITOR: Did ancient elves believe all their gods so terrifying? SOLAS: Yes. I believe they did.

For a time, the Evanuris were on Mythal's side - at least when others were watching. I think, more likely, no one wanted to be publicly associated with failed rebellions.

Taken together, I conclude that the elven gods were quietly trying to rebel against Mythal for a long time, and would only succeed when they all worked together.

We know from the Veilguard trailer that the elven gods are all Blighted. This suggests to me that they all united on their desire to exploit lyrium and spread the Blight.

What Does This Mean for Veilguard?

Well! I'm a bit late in writing this all down, so the Veilguard Release Trailer has already hit a lot of my talking points. BUT. Tinfoil hat on, this is what I could see:

Ghilan'nain and Elgar'nan are both Blighted. I'm guessing Elgar'nan's dragon form is also Blighted, and this will have implications for Solas/the Dread Wolf form.

I think the original valasslin used by the Evanuris were inked in lyrium, and since Solas' spell to remove them still works on a present-day Inquisitor, I wonder if some lyrium component is still involved -- and if it is, I imagine some of the Dalish might be puppetted by the Evanuris in DA:tV.

We know at least one Titan is Blighted, because of the existence and spread of red lyrium in DA:I. I'm thinking we see this not only spread, but mutate, due to the differently-appearing darkspawn in DA:tV and the existence of altered darkspawn in the short story Horror of Hormak.

We know Weisshaupt is supposedly dealing with its own "problems," and can also be seen with red lyrium in that one map trailer for DA:tV.

I think something is going to happen to everyone presently affected by lyrium. Vivienne and Solas both say that even regular lyrium permanently affects a mage who consumes it.

I think Mythal/Flemeth/Morrigan is going to tell us the intricacies of the lyrium war, as well as reveal secrets about lyrium's uses.

So... YEAH! If you got this far, thank you for reading this much. Let me know if you agree, or if I've missed anything important!

Happy 70 days 'til Veilguard, my dudes.

#dragon age #dragon age lore #dragon age theory #dragon age spoilers #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #veilguard #veilguard spoilers #da:v #da:tv #da:v spoilers #da:tv spoilers #mythal #solas #evanuris

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calisources · 1 year ago

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𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 : here are a list of 55 female names, 55 male names and 55 a song of ice and fire valyrian names and last names. You can do variations to the names and eveything because, you know fantasy, but I chose those that I thought sounded good. If this list is good, I found a generator for more fantasy names centered in ASOIAF for different kingdoms and lands. you don't have to give credit but please like or reblog if you find useful.

Male Names.

Kallias, meaning beauty.

Dimitri, earth lover.

Teivel, the devil.

Kaiser, Emperor or ruler.

Harvey, Strong warrior.

Lysander, liberator.

Erel, angel and messenger.

Asael, made by god.

Laurent, the bright one.

Perseus, avenger, destroyer.

Chrysander, golden protector.

Zale, strength of the sea.

Cahir, warrior, battle man.

Magnus, great and powerful.

Nikolai, people of victory.

Kian, king.

Damien, to tame.

Micah, who resembles God.

Kaemon, joyful.

Arsenio, strong, potent.

Lucius, light or genius.

Loan, light.

Calix, very handsome.

Rowan, brilliant red.

Egan, little fire.

Adonis, lord.

Declan, full of goodness.

Arzhel, bear prince.

Thaddeus, courageous heart.

Alastor, vengeance.

Carden, wool carder.

Leone, lion.

Osian, little dear.

Ezekiel, strength of god.

Zion, highest point.

Asher, blessed.

Kratos, strength, might.

Zadkiel, righteousness of god.

Arwan, king of the other world.

Malakai, messenger.

Acheron, river of sorrow.

Elijah, the lord is my god.

Jace, lord of salvation.

Killian, little warrior.

Cyrus, the sun.

Deimos, personification of fear.

Bryson, child of a noble.

Conan, little wolf or little hound.

Maverick, independent one.

Lennone, keen.

Anteros, god of required love and defender of unrequired.

Denarius, silver coin.

Lorcan, little fierce one.

Ariston, excellent.

Vortigern, high overlord.

Female Names.

Naima, tranquil.

Freya, noble woman.

Alora, beautiful dream.

Danyi, sweet.

Juniper, evergreen.

Arcadia, adventurous.

Cora, virtuous.

Rosela, rose in italian.

Rhea, river.

Kyra, sun.

Solasta, shining, light.

Evangeline, messenger of good news.

Narcissa, flower.

Nyssa, new beginning.

Nyx, night.

Elodie, great fortune.

Gemena, intelligent.

Elis, god’s promise.

Irene, peace.

Samira, wind.

Melantha, dark flower.

Odeliah, praise god.

Aleyah, noble, elevated.

Sariah, princess of the lord.

Ilaria, happy and cheerful.

Odessa, long journey.

Jezebel, pure.

Brielle, heroine of god.

Emersyn, brave, powerful.

Marilla, shining sea.

Braelyn, meadow.

Enora, honor.

Sereia, mermaid.

Seraphina, fiery ones.

Kaena, praise.

Zenaida, of zeus, eternal life.

Isadora, gift of Isis.

Faera, bringer of gifts.

Fayra, gift of god.

Lilibet, pledge to god.

Orlaith, golden princess, sovereign.

Thalassa, sea or ocean.

Visha, deadly poison.

Sora, sky.

Leysa, defender of man.

Cassiel, angel of saturday.

Calia, beautiful person.

Aloisia, famous warrior.

Isleen, vision.

Elowen, elm tree.

Davina, beloved.

Elysia, from the blessed isles.

Gwenna, blessed ring.

Mairween, blessed rebellion.

Esmeray, dark moon.

ASOIAF Valyrian names.

Daenar Tarreos

Baesenyx Barreos

Jaererys Laeraellis

Tyraerion Laenaenor

Jacaegar Laeneneos

Gaedar Aglaeris

Raenor Gonnalys

Rhaegon Maentigar

Vimar Arnalys

Vahaegaron Nargyreon

Laegor Naeltigar

Aeron Taeltheon

Maerya Barnaris

Alyhna Caeneneos

Vysenera Naeltaris

Daessa Baelnaris

Baessa Rahmaereon

Haelera Veltheos

Saerena Arinarys

Alaenna Lenyreos

Elaessa Narnareon

Jaelanya Galgyreon

Vhaenys Dortalor

Saerera Raeldaerys

Visegon Goniar

Jaedor Gaelennis

Malaelor Maentheos

Rahaelon Baeltigar

Maerion Laergaris

Visegon Qargaeron

Vahaeron Arreos

Gaelyx Arlaeris

Garaevon Calnalys

Naelara Dalreos

Eraerla Raenlaeris

Daenenera Maenanyon

Haerys Narnalys

Hera Aergaris

Vysessa Qarareon

Elaerya Aerlaeris

Maeharys Malreos

Tahaenyx Rahiar

Aeganar Gaelralis

Balaevar Lendaerys

Daegar Valanyon

Gaegar Nohaellis

Matagor Vellaeris

Rahaemon Laendaerys

Daelon Aeraeris

Aerena Mallaeron

Daenelys Callaeris

Renaera Raelennis

Daenelys Dortheos

Raevor Daerlaeron

Bamera Caenennis

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt

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beyralxoxo · 5 days ago

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{Crimson War: Valhalla-Ivar The Boneless}

{Chapter 1}

SUMMARY: Yggdrasil finds out about the proposal and begins sulking over her fate knowing that she will have to accept it, while our dear Ivar threatens to kill anyone who wants to bring the topic again, he hates her...or does he?

WORD COUNT: 4,7 K

WARNINGS: swearing-Ivar threatens to kill his brothers (he's joking obv)-arranged marriage proposal

The Geiranger Kingdom, cradled by the fjords and kissed by the icy breath of the northern winds, was a land steeped in legend. Known far and wide as the domain of Freya’s daughters, it was a place of unparalleled beauty and danger. The nymphs, said to be born of the goddess herself, walked among mortals like living myths. They were luminous beings, their power as undeniable as the roar of the sea.

No mortal could dare meet a nymph’s gaze for too long, lest they offend the gods and invite their wrath. Stories told of men who had been struck blind or cursed to wander in madness for their insolence. Yet it was not their eyes alone that drew reverence and fear—it was their hair, flowing and unending, cascading like rivers of moonlight or the black depths of night. Their strength, their very essence, was said to reside within those strands. To touch it was unthinkable, to cut it was sacrilege. They could not be slain, save by a weapon of their own making, a secret they guarded as fiercely as their hearts.

But it was not their invincibility that made them truly dangerous. It was their power to grant immortality to mortals—a gift whispered of in longing by kings and warriors, and coveted in silence by the desperate and the dying. Yet this gift came with a price, for to earn it, one must capture not a nymph’s body, but her soul. To make her fall in love was the greatest challenge of all, and many a man had tried only to fail spectacularly, their pride shattered beneath the nymphs’ laughter.

At the pinnacle of this legendary land sat Queen Boryana, her throne hewn from yew wood and carved with the ancient runes of protection. She was a queen of unmatched strength, her rule a harmonious blend of justice and fear. Under her guidance, Geiranger had grown to become a beacon of power, its cliffs and forests brimming with the whisper of gods. But her greatest achievement was not her rule—it was her daughters. By Freya’s blessing, Boryana had given birth to three daughters: Yggdrasil, Andora, and Varun.

Yggdrasil, the eldest, was the crown jewel of Geiranger. From the moment she drew her first breath, it was clear she was destined for greatness. Named after the great World Tree, her spirit was as unyielding as the roots that bound the nine realms together. Stories of her beauty spread like wildfire across the lands, igniting tales in every hall and hearth. Yet it was not merely her beauty that captivated the hearts of men—it was her presence.

She was striking, her mismatched eyes a gift from the gods themselves. One was the icy blue of a winter sky, sharp and cutting, while the other was a mosaic of dark brown and forest green, as if the earth and woods had found their home within her. Her hair was a raven’s black, thick and unyielding as it spilled in waves to the very ground. She carried it like a crown, a mark of her divinity and power.

From her youngest years, Yggdrasil was trained in the art of war. The clash of steel and the sting of northern winds became her companions. She was taught to wield a sword with the grace of a dancer, to command a shield wall with the authority of a general. Yet she was also schooled in the duties of a woman, though she cared little for embroidery or courtly smiles. She was a force of nature, a storm bound in mortal form.

Suitors came in droves, kings and their sons eager to kneel at her feet. They whispered promises of gold, of kingdoms, of eternal devotion. But Yggdrasil wanted none of it. “I do not need a man to find my joy,” she had declared boldly, her voice ringing out like a war horn. Her words sent ripples of unease through the halls of Geiranger, for such defiance was rare among women, even among nymphs.

Yet, for a time, her defiance was indulged. She walked her path untouched, her days filled with the hum of practice swords and the call of the wild winds. She was content in her solitude, finding solace in the strength of her own hands.

But fate is seldom kind to those who defy it.

Queen’s Boryana’s Palace

The sharp clang of steel against steel echoed across the training grounds, the rhythmic song of blade and shield reverberating through the crisp morning air. It was a sound that brought fear to some, awe to others, and absolute certainty to all—it meant Yggdrasil, the eldest daughter of Geiranger, was training. Gods help anyone foolish enough to disturb her.

The young maid who had drawn the unlucky task of delivering a message stood frozen at the edge of the training field, clutching her apron as if it were a lifeline. She watched as Yggdrasil moved with a precision that was almost otherworldly, her strikes as fluid as the rivers that carved the fjords. Her black braid whipped like a serpent behind her, the thick strands heavy with the weight of their legendary power. The sight of the princess was enough to render the maid’s throat dry, but duty left no room for cowardice.

Summoning her courage, the maid called out, her voice trembling, “M-My Lady? Your mother is asking for you.”

The clash of steel halted mid-strike, the silence that followed heavier than the sound of battle. Yggdrasil held her position for a heartbeat, her blade poised and her breath steady. Slowly, she lowered her sword, turning to face the girl. Her mismatched eyes, fixed upon the maid. It was not a cruel gaze, but it was sharp enough to cut through stone.

“And did she tell you the reason for this summons?” Yggdrasil asked, her tone calm but edged with the faintest trace of irritation.

The maid shook her head quickly, her eyes cast downward. “No, My Lady. She… she did not.”

Yggdrasil let out a soft sigh, the sound carrying both exasperation and resignation. Without another word, she turned away, her hand moving with practiced ease to rest the sword against the rack by the wall. Her movements were deliberate, controlled—every gesture a reminder of the discipline that had been drilled into her from the time she could walk.

She threw her braid over her shoulder with a swift motion, its weight falling heavily against her back, and began the long walk to her mother’s chambers. The corridor stretched ahead of her, lined with tapestries depicting the gods and their triumphs. She knew every thread, every story woven into their fabric.

Her boots echoed against the stone floor, and with each step, she felt the weight of expectation settle more heavily upon her shoulders. Her training was her sanctuary, the only place where she could wield her will unchallenged. Leaving it behind always felt like surrendering a part of herself, even if only for a moment.

As she approached the doors to her mother’s chambers, she paused, her hand resting against the cool iron handle. She inhaled deeply, steadying herself. Whatever Boryana wanted, it would not be a simple matter. Her mother’s summons were never without reason, and they rarely boded well for Yggdrasil’s peace.

With a final breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Yggdrasil stepped into her mother’s chambers, her eyes adjusting to the warm glow of the hearth. The room was as it always was—elegant but functional, with shelves lined with old tomes and jars of herbs, their scents mingling in the air. A faint smile flickered across her face as she called out, “Mother? You wanted to see me?”

Her eyes lingered on the table strewn with pages, some bearing her mother’s intricate handwriting. She approached, her fingers brushing over the parchment absentmindedly as she scanned the scattered notes.

“I’m here, sweetling,” Boryana’s voice came from an adjoining room, and moments later, she stepped into view.

Boryana looked as she always did—like a woman untouched by time. Her dark hair fell in soft waves, her skin smooth and radiant as though the years dared not touch her. Yet, there was a weight in her green eyes, the kind that only a life lived in the shadow of both love and loss could bring.

Yggdrasil straightened, the hint of a smile still on her lips as her mother approached and placed a gentle kiss on her head. “You’ve been busy,” Boryana said, her voice light but carrying the warmth of a bond that needed no words.

“I could say the same of you,” Yggdrasil replied with a soft chuckle, gesturing toward the mess of papers. “I take it this summons isn’t for idle talk?”

Boryana smiled, but it was faint, weighed down by something unsaid. “And if it were? Can a mother not ask after her daughter’s well-being without suspicion?”

Yggdrasil tilted her head, her mismatched eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re many things, Mother, but idle is not one of them. Out with it—what’s on your mind?”

Boryana sighed, motioning for Yggdrasil to sit. Her daughter hesitated, curiosity flickering across her face, but she obeyed, lowering herself onto the edge of a sturdy chair. Boryana sat beside her, taking Yggdrasil’s hands in her own.

“A letter has arrived,” she began, her voice steady but softer than usual. “From King Ragnar.”

At the mention of him the girl smiled softly, Ragnar has been like a adoptive brother of her mother, and a father figure to her, Yggdrasil’s expression softened further. “Uncle?” she asked, her tone warming. “What news does he bring? It’s been months since I’ve heard from him.”

Boryana’s grip tightened on her daughter’s hands, her eyes searching Yggdrasil’s face. “It’s not the kind of news you might hope for, sweetling. Ragnar’s letter is… a proposal.”

The warmth in Yggdrasil’s face faded in an instant. Her hands stiffened in her mother’s grasp, and her mismatched eyes sharpened, flickering with disbelief. “A proposal?” she echoed, her voice quiet but strained. “What kind of proposal?”

“It’s for you,” Boryana said, her words gentle but firm. “A marriage proposal. To Ivar.”

Yggdrasil pulled her hands away, leaning back in her chair as if struck. She stared at her mother, her expression caught between disbelief and something far darker. “Ivar?” she said, her voice thick with derision. “Tell me this is a jest, Mother, because I might laugh if it weren’t so damned insulting.”

“Silla,” Boryana said softly, using her daughter’s childhood nickname.

“Don’t,” Yggdrasil snapped, standing abruptly. Her pacing was deliberate, her hands flexing as if itching for the sword she had left behind. “You expect me to take this seriously? Why would I—why should I—marry Ivar?” She scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “He’s Ragnar’s son, yes, but he’s also an arrogant, selfish little pup. The gods know I’ve endured him enough to know that much.”

Boryana rose gracefully, her hands clasped before her. “Yggdrasil, listen to me. This is not a matter of mere whim or convenience. Ragnar is thinking of your safety. Your father’s shadow looms large, even here, and—”

“Safety?” Yggdrasil interrupted, spinning to face her mother. “You think Ivar of all people would keep me safe? Where was his protection when I needed it? Where was he when I had no one but myself to rely on?” Her voice cracked, just barely, but she steadied it quickly. “If you think I’ll trust him now, you’re wrong.”

Boryana stepped closer, her violet eyes glinting with both sorrow and resolve. “Ragnar loves you as his own, Yggdrasil. You know that. He only wants what’s best for you. Ivar has grown—he’s not the boy you once knew.”

Yggdrasil laughed bitterly. “Grown? Into what? A man? A warrior? A shield for his father’s ambitions?” She shook her head, her braid swaying with the motion. “I love Ragnar. You know I do. But if he thinks I’ll play pawn in this game of alliances, he’s mistaken.”

Boryana reached out, her hand resting lightly on Yggdrasil’s arm. “This isn’t about alliances, sweetling. This is about ensuring you have a future—a future where you don’t have to fight every battle alone.”

“I’ve never had anything but battles, Mother,” Yggdrasil said, her voice quieter now, though no less fierce. “And I’d rather die by my own blade than tie my life to someone who wasn’t there when it counted.”

Boryana’s expression softened, but the sadness in her eyes deepened. “I only want you to be safe, my child. That is all I’ve ever wanted.”

“And I want to live my life on my own terms,” Yggdrasil replied, her voice steady but full of quiet defiance. “I owe Ragnar much, but I owe Ivar nothing.”

The silence between them was thick, heavy with the weight of words left unsaid. Yggdrasil inhaled deeply, forcing her emotions back beneath the surface. “If Ragnar wants to speak of this proposal, let him come himself. Until then, Mother, I’ve nothing more to say on the matter.”

With a final glance at Boryana, Yggdrasil turned and strode from the room, her steps firm and resolute. Behind her, Boryana remained still, her hands clasped tightly as she whispered a prayer to the gods.

Yggdrasil stormed through the castle corridors, her braid swinging wildly behind her. The chill in the air couldn’t compete with the fire raging in her chest. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind, sharper than any blade she had ever wielded.

Marry Ivar? Of all the gods-damned ideas.

She needed solitude, her chambers, a place to vent her fury. But as she turned a corner, she was met with an obstacle even the fiercest warrior would hesitate to face—her two younger sisters, Andora and Varun.

“Yggdrasil!” Andora called out, her voice light and teasing, as it always was. Her blue eyes sparkled like the morning sea, a stark contrast to her sister’s foul mood. “Where are you storming off to? You look like you’re ready to strangle someone—or did you already, and you’re running to hide the body?”

Varun stood silently beside her, leaning against the stone wall. Her green eyes didn’t sparkle—they pierced. She had the uncanny ability to see straight through Yggdrasil’s bravado, a trait Yggdrasil found both infuriating and comforting.

“Move,” Yggdrasil barked, her tone curt.

Andora gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Move? Without so much as a greeting? Sister, you wound me.” She stepped in front of Yggdrasil, blocking her path. “Something’s clearly amiss, and I demand to know what it is. Was it Mother? Did she finally tell you you’re not her favorite?”

“Very funny,” Yggdrasil muttered, though a ghost of a smirk tugged at her lips despite her sour mood. “Now, step aside.”

“Not until you tell us what’s wrong,” Andora said, planting her hands on her hips.

Varun straightened, her quiet presence filling the space like a rising tide. “She won’t say until she’s ready,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “But something’s happened. I can see it in her eyes.”

“Which ones?” Andora quipped. “The dark one, or the icy one?”

Yggdrasil let out a sharp breath, half a laugh and half a growl. “Fine. If you must know, Mother’s gone mad.”

Andora’s brows lifted in mock surprise. “Oh? And here I thought that happened years ago. What did she do this time?”

“She agreed to a marriage proposal,” Yggdrasil snapped.

Both sisters froze.

“A marriage proposal?” Andora echoed, her voice dripping with disbelief. “For you?”

Yggdrasil narrowed her eyes. “Yes. For me. What’s so surprising about that?”

Andora waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, nothing. Except that you’ve sworn off every man who’s dared to ask. I figured Mother had finally accepted your destiny as a lone shieldmaiden with nothing but a sword and a bad temper to keep you company.”

Varun, ever composed, tilted her head. “Who is it?”

Yggdrasil hesitated, her fists clenching at her sides. “It’s from Uncle Ragnar.”

Varun’s green eyes darkened. “And?”

“And it’s for Ivar,” Yggdrasil spat, the name like poison on her tongue.

Andora reeled back as though she’d been struck. “Ivar? As in Ivar the Boneless? As in the same Ivar who used to smear mud in your hair when we were children?”

“The very same,” Yggdrasil said bitterly.

Andora let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, that’s rich. Mother wants you to marry him? She must think the gods have a cruel sense of humor.”

“Apparently, she thinks it’s my only chance at safety,” Yggdrasil muttered, the words tasting bitter in her mouth.

Varun’s gaze sharpened. “Do you believe that?”

“No,” Yggdrasil said, her tone firm. “I don’t need anyone to keep me safe. Least of all Ivar.”

“Good,” Andora said, grinning. “Because the day you let that sniveling snake call you ‘wife’ is the day I grow a beard and take up fishing.”

Yggdrasil snorted, a flicker of amusement breaking through her frustration. “I’d pay to see that.”

Varun stepped closer, her voice low and steady. “Mother may mean well, but you’ve always fought your own battles, Yggdrasil. You don’t need a man to do it for you.”

“Exactly!” Andora chimed in, throwing an arm around Yggdrasil’s shoulders. “You’re the strongest, fiercest, most bull-headed woman in this entire kingdom. And if Ivar so much as looks at you the wrong way, I’ll gut him myself.”

Yggdrasil chuckled dryly, shaking her head. “Get in line, Andora. If Ivar crosses me, he’ll wish the gods had taken him first.”

“That’s the spirit,” Andora said, her grin widening.

Varun gave a small nod, her green eyes steady and reassuring. “Whatever happens, we’re with you.”

Yggdrasil looked at her sisters, their unwavering support softening the edges of her anger. For all her frustration, she knew she could face anything with them by her side. She drew in a deep breath, straightening her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice filled with genuine gratitude.

“Always,” Andora said, giving her a playful nudge. “Now, go find your chambers and brood, or whatever it is you were planning to do before we so kindly intervened.”

Yggdrasil smirked, her fiery spirit rekindled. “Don’t think this means I’ll share the mead later.”

Andora gasped. “After all we’ve done for you?”

“Not a drop,” Yggdrasil said, already walking away.

Her sisters’ laughter followed her down the corridor, a reminder that no matter what battles lay ahead, she would never face them alone.

And while Yggdrasil sulked in her chambers from the news she recieved, a certain young man in Kattegat was not yet aware of the news he will recieve.

Kattegat

Ragnar sat at the long oak table, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across his weathered face. He twirled a knife absentmindedly between his fingers, the blade glinting as if it were a toy rather than a weapon. His eyes were distant, lost in thought as his mind played over the proposal. Across from him, Aethelstan sat with his hands folded, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Do you think it’s a good idea? The proposal, I mean," Aethelstan asked, his voice quiet but laced with doubt.

Ragnar shrugged, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "He is a wild one, no doubt. And by the gods, he can act like a spoiled child, throwing tantrums over the smallest things. But I know one thing for certain—those two," he gestured toward the distant lands of Geiranger, "could conquer everything, if they ever decided to work together."

Aethelstan sighed deeply, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He leaned forward, eyes searching Ragnar’s face for some sign of hesitation, something that would ease his own worries. "I understand that. But Ragnar, I know Yggdrasil. She won’t take this proposal lightly, if at all. She has despised Ivar since they were children—ten and twelve years old, for the love of Thor. There’s no chance she’ll agree to this willingly."

Ragnar paused, twirling the knife once more. His grin remained, though it was tinged with something darker, something that hinted at long experience in the ways of both men and women. His voice, when he spoke, was calm, but there was a weight to it. "And that’s exactly why it is his chance, Aethelstan. The gods have a way of making us face the things we least want to confront. Ivar may be many things, but this is his moment. To prove that he has changed, that he can be more than the arrogant child she remembers."

Aethelstan winced slightly, his mouth tightening into a thin line. "Ivar… has never apologized to anyone. Not once in his life. Since the time he was born, the boy has never once said ‘sorry’ to anyone. He doesn’t know how."

Ragnar chuckled darkly, the sound rich with a thousand battles and unspoken truths. He set the knife down on the table, his eyes narrowing as he met Aethelstan’s gaze. "There’s always a time for change, Aethelstan. Even for men like Ivar."

Aethelstan shook his head, as if the thought was too much to bear. "Change? You think a proposal will change him?"

Ragnar leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled together, his expression almost playful now. "I’m not saying it will. But sometimes, it’s the most unexpected things that force a man to grow. You of all people should know that. It’s in the struggles, in the moments of pressure, that we find out what we're truly made of. You think Ivar will just slip into this? No. He'll fight it, just as he’s always fought everything. But he won’t win this time. Not with her."

Aethelstan looked down at his hands, the weight of Ragnar’s words settling over him like a cloak of inevitability. "And Yggdrasil? You’re willing to put her through this... torment? You know she’ll resent it."

Ragnar’s grin deepened, a flicker of mischief in his eyes. "Aye, I know she will. But she’s strong. She’s always been strong. She will come to see that this isn’t just about the past, about what Ivar was. It’s about what he can become. And the gods know, if there’s anyone who can turn that boy into a man, it’s her."

Aethelstan didn’t respond immediately. He only nodded slowly, though his heart felt heavier than when he had first entered the room. The weight of the proposal hung over them both now, a heavy cloud that neither could shake.

"I pray you’re right, Ragnar," Aethelstan said, his voice low. "For all our sakes, I pray you’re right."

Ragnar picked up the knife again, tapping it idly on the table as though the conversation were already over. "The gods have spoken, Aethelstan. Now we just wait and see how they play this hand."

Ivar sat hunched over in his chambers, the repetitive scrape of his knife against the whetstone barely keeping his thoughts at bay. The blade gleamed, sharp enough to split hairs, but the edge wasn’t nearly as sharp as his mood. His brothers had been unusually quiet all day, which only meant trouble. And trouble had a way of finding him, especially when his idiotic siblings were involved.

The door crashed open, slamming against the wall with a resounding thud. Ivar didn’t look up, his lips curling in irritation. He already knew who it was.

"By Thor’s hammer, can’t you two morons knock like civilized people?" he growled.

Ubbe strolled in first, casual as ever, followed by Hvitserk, who looked like he was already suppressing a laugh. "Civilized? From the man who once hurled an axe at a servant for breathing too loud? Spare me," Ubbe said, plopping himself down on Ivar’s bed without a care in the world.

Hvitserk leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms with that infuriating smirk of his. "You look cozy, Ivar. What’s got you sharpening that knife? Thinking of murdering someone, or is this just your version of knitting?"

Ivar’s grip on the knife tightened. "If you two are here to waste my time, you’ll be leaving with fewer fingers than you came in with."

"Relax, little brother," Ubbe said, waving him off. "We’re here to... congratulate you."

That caught Ivar’s attention. He set the knife down carefully, his sharp blue eyes narrowing like a hawk sizing up its prey. "Congratulate me? For what? Outliving the pair of you morons?"

Hvitserk chuckled, pushing off the wall to saunter further into the room. "No, no. We’re here to congratulate you on your... impending marriage."

The air in the room seemed to shift, the tension snapping like a bowstring. Ivar’s face twisted into a mask of confusion and rage. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

Ubbe grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. "Father’s arranged it. You and Yggdrasil. A match made by the gods themselves—or by Ragnar’s twisted sense of humor. Either way, it’s happening."

For a moment, Ivar didn’t move. Then, without warning, he slammed his fist into the table, the sound echoing through the room. "That old bastard’s finally lost his mind!" he bellowed. "Marry her? Yggdrasil?! I’d rather stick this knife through my own heart!"

Hvitserk was laughing openly now, leaning against the table for support. "Come on, Ivar. She’s not that bad. A bit sharp-tongued, sure, but at least she’s good-looking. You’ll have beautiful, angry children together."

Ivar turned on him so fast it was a wonder he didn’t sprain something. "I will carve that stupid grin off your face, Hvitserk," he snarled, his voice trembling with fury. "Don’t you dare speak about her like she’s some... gift. She’s a nightmare. A walking, talking curse."

Ubbe raised an eyebrow, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. "You’re being dramatic, even for you. She’s strong, smart, and she doesn’t take anyone’s shit. Honestly, she’s the only person in the world who could tolerate you."

"She doesn’t tolerate me," Ivar snapped. "She hates me. And the feeling is mutual."

Hvitserk clapped a hand to his chest, feigning shock. "Oh, the venom in your voice, brother! One might think you’re overcompensating. You don’t... like her, do you?"

The knife was back in Ivar’s hand before anyone could blink, the tip pointed directly at Hvitserk. "Say that again, and I’ll make sure you never like anyone ever again."

Ubbe sighed, standing and placing a hand on Ivar’s shoulder to calm him. "Enough, Ivar. We’re not here to fight. Father made the decision, and whether you like it or not, you’re going to have to deal with it."

Ivar shrugged off Ubbe’s hand, his chest heaving with barely contained rage. "Deal with it? Deal with her? Do you have any idea what you’re asking? She’s insufferable. Always has been. She walks around like she owns the gods-damned world, like she’s better than me. And now Ragnar expects me to... to marry her?"

Hvitserk, still grinning like an idiot, chimed in. "Well, to be fair, she is better than you. In most ways."

Ivar turned on him again, his face a mask of fury. "Do you want to die today, Hvitserk? Because I’m in the mood to make it happen."

"Easy, little brother," Ubbe said, stepping between them. "We get it. You hate her. Fine. But maybe, just maybe, you’re confusing hate with something else."

Ivar barked out a laugh, sharp and humorless. "Oh, don’t start with that nonsense. I know exactly what I feel. I hate her. I hate her arrogance, her voice, her face—"

"Her face?" Hvitserk interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "Interesting choice of words. Sounds like you’ve been staring at it a bit too much."

The knife flew, embedding itself in the wooden post next to Hvitserk’s head. He didn’t even flinch, though his grin widened. "Ah, there’s that famous Ivar temper. You know, you’re proving our point, brother. You’ve got it bad."

Ivar threw his hands up, pacing the room like a caged animal. "Get out. Both of you. Before I make good on my threats."

Ubbe clapped him on the shoulder again, this time with more force. "Think about it, Ivar. You might hate her, but you can’t ignore her. That says something, doesn’t it?"

Hvitserk chuckled, pulling the knife from the post and tossing it back to Ivar. "We’ll leave you to your brooding, little brother. Just try not to burn the place down while you’re at it."

The door slammed shut behind them, leaving Ivar alone in the suffocating silence. He stared at the knife in his hand, his thoughts a storm he couldn’t control. He hated Yggdrasil. He was sure of it. But in the back of his mind, a small, unwelcome thought whispered: If you hate her so much, why can’t you stop thinking about her?

#ivar fanfic #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x oc #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fanfic #ragnar lothbrok #aethelstan

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youkaigakkou-tl · 1 year ago

Text

The TRUTH behind the soul pieces

Preamble: I started writing this expecting nothing, but I actually found something??? not clickbait???? gone right???

Warning: the expected reaction of reading this is “damn. I’ve never seen someone grasp harder at straws” and “I dunno about this one chief”

So. "The soul pieces aren't exactly what we're told they are" is an idea I've had for a while now. (I wouldn’t even call it a theory, it’s just a passing thought.) Not that "they're manifestations of Haruaki's traits" is wrong, but I think there's more to them than immediately obvious. I just haven't talked about this much because even I don't fully buy into it and it kinda verges on horoscope-type confirmation bias territory. It’s kind of a, I THINK there’s more to it but I don’t know what exactly is more.

A brief recap

First one shown is his "worldly desires", animal trio vs Seiryuu.

Second is his "freak athleticism", that Kurahashi's team and Ebisu just ran into.

With just these two he runs off to find Sano

Third is his "cowardice", found by Sano's team and Byakko, which gets away and hides in Sano's pocket.

Fourth is his "memory", originally found by Hijita's team and Genbu, which gets picked up by Genbu and then the whole Heian flashback happens.

And last is his "intelligence", which for some reason is also the one that can use his exorcism power.

So immediately a couple details stood out to me.

Why is "memory" here?? I wouldn't call that a trait exactly??

Also, when it first broke apart and flew off in five directions, it's specifically pointed out that it's "like a five pointed star" (even though it's not really if you look at the actual locations on a map lol)

And the sticking point, if it was as clean and simple a split as “Haruaki’s traits”, why do the traits bleed into each other? “Athleticism” is into sailor uniforms too, and “Cowardice” and “Intelligence” are pretty quick by themselves. Also, even without his “Memory” at the time, he remembered that conversation with Seimei in ch87.

The five pointed star detail, considering everything in the arc heavily relates to the Four Gods and Seimei's star, which relates to Wuxing, almost begs to be referencing that too.

What is Wuxing?

Wuxing, five elements, five phases, gogyo, whatever other name for it: I’ve talked about it briefly in my Kyoto arc analysis

(Wait. Is this actually all I mentioned regarding Wuxing in that analysis???? This tells you nothing!!)

(Tbh I think I had a longer explanation about it but I cut it because I thought it was irrelevant)

Wuxing 五行, roughly translated as five elements or phases, is a concept that comes from Taoism. The five elements are Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal and Water and describes the interactions between them. Here’s the wikipedia page if you really want to get into the details.

The “xing” means movements/moving, and the entire concept of Wuxing comes from the five classical planets’ (Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn) movements affecting… things? In general? (It’s horoscopes)

In fact, the names of those five planets in Chinese and Japanese are tied with the Wuxing:

Mercury = 水星 water star

Venus = 金星 metal/gold star

Mars = 火星 fire star

Jupiter = 木星 wood star

Saturn = 土星 earth star

You’re taught these as a kid but not the reasoning behind it (because it’s hella irrelevant lmao) but I guess it kinda makes instinctual sense? (Venus = yellow, Mars = red, Jupiter = stripes, like tree rings?? Saturn = brown. Mercury = it looks like there’s rivers? idk how much detail they were seeing in the BC times)

And just to sate curiosity, the planets that were discovered after telescopes were invented are just based off the English names

Uranus = 天王星 sky god star

Neptune = 海王星 sea god star

Pluto = 冥王星 underworld god star

By the way, this is also why the days of the week are named after elements in Japanese; it’s not actually the elements, rather it’s referring to the celestial bodies: those 5 planets + the moon and the sun. It’s the classical Chinese system that Japan adopted around the 5th century AD, and they haven’t changed it since then. (Chinese uses stuff like “weekday 1” for monday now.) And China itself adopted the Greco-Roman system of the 7 day week, days named after celestial bodies around the 4th century AD, which is also why the planets and days line up if you look at the English and Japanese names now.

Would be crazy if they independently decided to have 7 days in a week and name days after celestial bodies and assigned the same planets to the days huh.

(Also, TIL from looking at this chart that the sun (taiyang) is indeed called that because it’s the “great yang star”, and the moon is called the “great yin star”, you know, like yin-yang)

I’m remembering why it’s so hard to research and write about this stuff now. Everything is so inextricably connected to everything else its hard to talk about one thing in isolation. Thanks for indulging my astronomy tangent I love astronomy.

(I always got saturn on da mind when I think about Seimei cus of this art…)

The only useful part of this essay

So. Wuxing. Here’s a pretty standard diagram of it so it’s easier to visualise

There are five types of processes Wuxing describes:

Generating: Wood feeds fire

The reverse side of generating: Fire burns wood

Regulating: Wood grasps earth

Excessive regulating (destruction): Wood depletes earth

The reverse side of regulation (exhaustion): Earth rots wood

And here’s a full list of it, from wikipedia

With this in mind, you’ll notice that it pops up all over the place in Kyoto arc!

If we take lightning as aligned with metal (because Byakko = metal = lightning user), this is the regulating interaction of metal -> wood

Metal cuts wood, but wood also dulls metal

Water… nourishing wood….???

Water destabilizes earth

(“This is just pokemon lol” WRONG!! Pokemon types and every other element system in videogames came from Wuxing!! (Or Godai))

Back to the soul pieces

So you see, it’s incredibly tempting to connect the five soul pieces with the five elements of Wuxing. It’s basically begging for it. The Wuxing has been associated with lots of things that come in sets of five, including things like senses, tastes, smells, emotions, mental qualities, periods of one’s life, body parts. It has applications in divination and traditional chinese medicine after all. If there was a clear, 1-to-1 match between the soul pieces and the elements, you bet I would have talked about it more by now. But the connections are tenuous at best, and even I don’t really believe it. They might, probably, just be the traits we’re told they are. So this really is just to humor myself, and maybe someone can glean something more from this.

Let’s lay out the things surrounding the soul pieces:

“Desires” was at Arashiyama (a bamboo forest) and Seiryuu was present, both associated with Wood

“Athleticism” was at Ginkaku-ji (silver pavilion), none of the four gods were present, no obvious element associations here.

“Cowardice” was at Mount Kurama (mountain = earth?), Byakko was present (metal?)

“Memory” was at Kiyomizu-dera (clear water temple), and Genbu was present, water association

“Intelligence” was at Kinkaku-ji (gold pavilion), and none of the four gods were present initially. (gold = metal?)

The other thing I’ve yet to mention is all the soul pieces seem to be of different points in Haruaki’s life. (Well. Four of them at least.)

“Desires” and “Athletics” seem to look and act younger (as much as you can tell with chibis…), both wearing simple t-shirts, and “Athletics” t-shirt and shorts look like what Haruaki wore as a kid in the Miki arc flashback. Adding on to that, we’re constantly told how into sailor uniforms Haruaki was as a little kid (literally whenever his childhood gets brought up: Mamaaki talking about it in ch8, him saying his first cry as a newborn was “sailor uniform” in ch43, the ch51.5 extra) (ok to be fair. his sailor uniform fetish gets brought up at every opportunity. but i feel like it’s Pretty emphasized here) Also I feel like “Desires” especially talks like a kid.

Meanwhile “Cowardice” and “Memory” are dressed the way he currently does, and “Cowardice” seems to parallel the way Haruaki was at the start of the series. It’s Sano’s team that runs into him, he acts like how Haruaki did early on just amped way up, and he ends up hiding on Sano.

IQ-kun… still don’t know what to make of him and how he fits into this lol

Put like this, doesn’t it almost seem like, in the order they appear, they represent points in Haruaki’s life too?

Or, this could all be nothing, because they’re all wearing the same thing in the jacket for Volume 14.

So anyway, from this angle, it seems like Desires and Athletics line up fairly cleanly with Wood and Fire respectively, but Cowardice, Memory and Intelligence are a little murkier. Cowardice only somewhat lines up with Earth, and both Memory and Intelligence could align with Water, while Memory could also be Metal. (I dropped the quotation marks bc they were getting distracting)

Here’s a diagram to illustrate.

(See it’s kinda, pick-and-choosey, horoscope-type shit)

Immediately a couple problems arise. First and most majorly is the horoscopey-ness of it all. And then there’s the matter that, if the four gods represent four out of five of the elements and earth is the outlier, wouldn’t it also make sense if IQ-kun as the outlier would be assigned that?

There’s also the possibility that the first four are a set, and IQ-kun makes up the “yin” to the rest of Haruaki’s “yang” (But then what would the first four correspond to individually? idk….)

We’re getting nowhere with this analogy, so let’s look at some adjacent philosophies in sets of five, just for fun, and see if they line up any better.

Traditional Chinese Medicine

This one is the most related to Wuxing, there are five main “organs” in TCM that have associated Wuxing elements. They might be called the same names as the anatomical organs, but they’re actually more like concepts only roughly correlated with locations on the body. This is stuff codified thousands of years ago before modern knowledge of the human body, mind you.

Heart (fire): stores the “aggregate soul” (the mind)

Spleen (earth): governs transportation of qi and blood, and governs muscles and limbs

Lung (metal): stores the “po 魄” (physical soul)

Kidney (water): responsible for willpower or fear

Liver (wood): governs free flow of qi, blood and emotions. Stores blood, which stores the “hun 魂” (ethereal soul)

(The wikipedia page I linked has more in depth descriptions)

And if we sorta line up the attributes…

Desires = Liver/wood

Athleticism = Spleen/earth

Cowardice = Kidney/water

Memory = Lung/metal

Intelligence = Heart/fire

Something like this? It doesn’t line up particularly nicely either, and certainly doesn’t line up with the first theory…

But reading up on this actually brought something useful to my attention: the concept of “hun” and “po”

See, there’s this Chinese compound word “hun po 魂魄” that generally just means “soul”, but if you get really semantic they’re two different types of souls?

The “hun” is the yang-aligned “ethereal soul” typically understood as the wits/mind of a person, whatever constitutes the personality, and is the part of the soul that leaves the body on death.

The “po” is the yin-aligned “physical soul”, sometimes described as the “baser animal spirit” of a person, and is attached to the body.

This could explain why Haruaki’s soul is also Seimei’s soul, but also Seimei is in the underworld?

This scene I got real hung up about in my Kyoto arc post?

It lining up and being a reasonable explanation is one thing, but whether sensei is deliberately referencing a property of Chinese linguistics that doesn’t have an equivalent in Japanese kanji is another thing. And honestly, I could see Tanaka “I’ll have to read up on Chinese history, but off the top of my head Byakko and Seiryuu are from 4000BC and Suzaku and Genbu are younger” Mai could and would do it. (Good god, what I wouldn’t give to see sensei’s notes. Yohaji fanbook explaining every cultural reference PLEASEEEE IM BEGGINGGG)

Godai

Godai (“the five great (elements)”), while also a thing with five elements that features prominently in Japanese culture, differs from Wuxing in that it originates from the concept of Mahābhūta in Indian Buddhism, and features Fire, Water, Earth, Wind and Void. It’s a more inert definition and describes the elements as building blocks, contrasting with Wuxing which is more concerned with the balancing and interaction between the elements and the changes they cause in each other.

Godai also isn’t ever depicted as a star (and Wuxing is only depicted as a star as a byproduct of all the arrows denoting the interactions, sometimes the 5 elements are arranged like the 5 side of a dice with lines connecting everything) and is typically depicted as a Gorinto, a stone structure.

In order from top to bottom, it goes Void, Wind, Fire, Water, Earth, and represents the structure of the universe in Buddhism.

So. Attributes and if they line up any better.

Earth: unmoving, stability

Water: fluidity, adaptability, motion

Fire: passion, power, energy

Wind: growth, freedom

Void: the spirit? thought? there’s not really a clear description of this one. To begin with, originally in Buddhism, it’s just said that “from void emerged air, from air emerged fire, (etc)”

I could see wind = Memory and void = Intelligence, but the rest… I dunno man

The five aggregates in Buddhism

And now, following the thread back from Godai, to the Buddhist concept of Skandhas, or the “five aggregates of clinging”, described as the five factors that make up a sentient being’s personality. (Hey, this sounds like it could be onto something here!)

The five aggregates are:

Form or matter: the material form of a person

Sensation or feeling: the five senses + intellectual sensation, and the feelings that occur whether pleasant, unpleasant or neutral

Perception: cognition and recognizing what has been previously noted

Mental formations: dispositions, or something that motivates a person to take action (or sometimes described as the influences of a previous life?!)

Consciousness: cognizance, or the base that supports experience, sometimes translated as mind, intelligence or life force

Wait… This kinda… lines up…? No way…?

Form = Athleticism

Sensation = Cowardice

Perception = Memory

Mental formations = Desires

Consciousness = Intelligence

This… kinda works? They all basically line up and it’s not too tenuous, and there’s enough matching details in the descriptions of the five aggregates that it’s kinda scary…?

I’ll be real, prior to writing this section I hadn’t actually read the descriptions of each of them too carefully (I had the tab open and roughly noted the descriptions kinda worked) and I entirely expected to end this essay with a “in conclusion: no conclusion i learned nothing lol” but there’s actually something here????

And Tanaka Mai is known to reference Buddhism a lot, so this could entirely be intentional…??? I’m kinda shaken rn tbh

I mean, I guess I should have looked to Buddhism first considering sensei’s track record, what with how the arc opened with Haruaki getting put under a waterfall to get rid of his worldly desires, and how 3 out of 5 locations were Buddhist temples, but Buddhism concepts usually use their Sanskrit names and I don’t know how to google for that… (making excuses. classic)

Um. Hope you enjoyed reading this and that you learned something? Here’s all the relevant wikipedia pages if you want to go down your own rabbit hole:

Wuxing (Chinese five elements)

Godai (Japanese Buddhism five elements)

Mahābhūta (Indian Buddhism five elements)

Hun and po (two concepts of souls)

Skandha (five aggregates that make up a person)

Twelve Nidanas (didn’t mention this one, but it’s related to skandhas)

If you read all this you should read all my other long rambly things too if you haven’t, they’re all under the #rambles tag 👍

#youkai gakkou no sensei hajimemashita #a terrified teacher at ghoul school #yohaji #rambles #analysis #i had a whole character arc writing this #there was ups and downs

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