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fandom-alley · 2 years ago

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Rekindling at the Spa

18+

Summary: Spencer has an evening at the spa as per his doctors orders, and meets up with a girl he met at Penelope's over a year ago. This time he convinces himself not to leave without getting her phone number, but he ends up getting a little bit more.

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader

Category: Fluff, smut (like hardly though)

Warnings: 18+, kissing, making out, semi-public (no ones around) grinding, coming untouched/in pants

Word Count: 3.7k

a/n: inspired by my recent trip to the spa where i realized just how single i am. this is my first time writing something spicier than making out, so it's not a lot and just at the end, go easy on me lol

Also on AO3

The last thing Spencer Reid wanted to do was spend his evening at the hydrotherapy spa. Germs from the water of hot tubs could make you sick if consumed, and so could the vapour that comes off the water. Not to mention the possibility of a rash due to the chemicals used. But it was his doctor's orders. Apparently his own doctoral status was not good enough to sway them to let him come back to work early and skip this step.

There were many steps he had to complete as part of his recovery process; resting his injured leg, physical therapy, changes to his diet, therapy for his mental health. And the dreaded ‘spa relaxation’.

Now, most doctors probably wouldn’t prescribe a day at the spa as something to do as part of recovery, but Spencer’s doctor knew him well. He knew that throughout the last month, even though Spencer had completed most of his steps, he wasn’t relaxing through any of it. And his doctor was correct. Spencer’s brain had been working double time, reading twice the amount of books he usually did in a day while he was immobile elevating his injured leg. Reading up on new techniques for profiling and offering tips to the BAU when they worked a local case.

His doctor could tell that his inability to relax his brain, therefore relaxing his body, was the last step in holding him back from complete recovery.

So here he was, entering a Nordic hydrotherapy spa, where he was not allowed to bring in any cell phones, tablets, or hold loud conversations with anyone. And while it was acceptable to bring books in to read, Spencer didn’t want to risk dropping one in the water and ruining it. So he was about to be forced to put his self meditation techniques to use.

After changing into his swim shorts, putting on the complimentary robe and locking away his belongings, Spencer stepped out of the main building into the frigid evening air. He breathed in the scent of salt, chlorine, and eucalyptus from the nearby steam room. Hidden speakers in the plant beds around the property played out relaxing spa style music. Spencer had to admit, despite his reservations regarding germs, he already did feel quite relaxed.

The steam coming off the hot pools seemed to blanket the grounds in silence. It wasn’t that busy, but Spencer spotted a few people relaxing in the pools and walking in-between sections of the spa grounds.

Upon his check in tonight, the kind lady at the front desk informed him how to use the spa for maximum relaxation and hydrotherapy benefits. She recommended he sit in a hot pool for 10 to 15 minutes, take a plunge in the cold pool for at least 15 seconds or as long as he could handle, and then relax in a sauna, steam room, or relaxation room before continuing the process a few times.

The property was large, with 4 different hot pools, 3 different cold plunge pools, 2 rooms for wood burning saunas, the eucalyptus steam room, and multiple chairs dotting the ground surrounding fireplaces where you could sit and relax. Without putting too much thought to it, Spencer hung up his robe near the closest hot pool and stepped into the burning water.

The change in temperature stung his cold toes as they started to warm up. The water was only up to his waist as he waded through past a few couples sitting to the sides. He made his way to the back of the pool where it was blissfully empty and took a seat. Since he was so tall sitting on the built in seats along the edge of the pool, the water only went up to mid chest. But the rest of his exposed skin felt refreshed with the cool air blowing over him. A good contrast to the hot water covering the rest of his body.

Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to shut his brain off. It worked for a few minutes, before he heard a couple a few feet over whispering sweet nothings to each other. It just made Spencer start thinking about his own lacklustre love life.

With his job in the BAU there wasn't that much opportunity and time for a relationship. Sure, some of his co-workers had figured it out. Like JJ and Will for instance. Spencer had seen how difficult it was for Morgan to hold down a relationship with their crazy work hours as well.

He hadn't really put that much effort into a relationship, though. Part of the reason was that he just didn't have the time. Some of the cases kept them away from home for weeks at a time. Sometimes to the point where he really didn't know how his friends and co-workers were able to keep it up. He was the type of guy who wanted to get to know someone, be around them lots in the early stages, and that was just too hard with work.

Spencer jolted out of his daydream when someone splashed into the seat next to him.

"Is this seat taken?" The voice belonged to a pretty girl, who if he had to guess was maybe just a few years younger than him. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't seem to place where he recognized her from. "You're Dr. Spencer Reid, right?" She asked.

"Yes, that's me," he replied with a furrowed brow, wracking his brain on why her big brown eyes looked like they knew him as well.

Thankfully she caught on to his confusion. "I'm y/n. Penelope's friend from book club. We met a year ago at her place when she had a viewing party for the season finale of Love Is Blind. I almost didn't go because I really don't watch reality TV, but I had just moved to the area and I wanted to try and make some friends."

Spencer remembered her now. Back then at the party she had her hair down in unruly curls and it was the colour of fire engine red. Now her hair was tied back to stay out of the water and it was the colour of midnight black. He wasn't one to forget a face, or forget much of anything really. But something about a dramatic change in hair colour and style had the Clark Kent effect on him. Maybe it was because he was in a pretty decent state of relaxation.

"I remember you," he said, nodding his head in recognition. "I also didn't want to go to that party but Penelope is hard to say no to."

Y/n laughed, "Yes she is, isn't she. It's good though. Because of her persistence I was able to make a few friends that night. And on multiple other nights as well. Penelope frequently tries to set me up on dates." She was talking pretty quietly as per spa rules, and it would have been hard to hear if she hadn't sat close and leaned in while she talked. Normally Spencer would have backed away, but something about her presence was soothing. Or maybe that was just the water jets from the pool shooting into his back.

"So what brings you to the spa tonight?" Spencer asked her. He might have met her back then at the party, but they hadn't said many words to each other. He remembered being slightly intimidated by her fiery hair and bubbly personality and after their initial introduction he snuck away with his glass of juice to browse Pen's book collection.

"Actually, it was a birthday gift from Penelope!" Y/n smiled.

"Oh, happy birthday." Spencer smiled back at her. Why was he intimidated back then, he thought to himself. She was so beautiful and so nice, and so far fairly easy to talk to, it seemed.

"Thank you. But it's actually not until next month. Penelope just told me this was the only night she could get a reservation and that when my actual birthday happened she would buy me a cake," y/n laughed.

Spencer pursed his lips in confusion. When he booked his reservation on his doctor's orders, there looked to have been multiple available times from now until the end of the year. The only day that was sold out was Thanksgiving weekend.

"When did she give you the gift with the reservation in it?" He asked y/n, with a hint of scepticism in his voice.

"About 3 days ago I think it was," she answered. About 3 days ago is when Spencer called up Penelope to rant to her about being forced to go to this spa. Was it possible Pen had given Y/n the gift as an excuse to try and set them up? Back at the party he had gotten the vibe when she introduced them that she wanted them to become friends. But Spencer had never gotten her number or email, and figured it just wasn't meant to be. Although how could it be, when he actively avoided her most of that night.

"What a coincidence that we're both here on the same night," Spencer told her.

"I know, right? I wasn't completely sure that you were you when I saw you sitting over here. But you're a hard one to forget, Dr. Reid," y/n said. Was that a blush he saw forming on her cheeks, or was she just getting too warm from the water.

"You can just call me Spencer. I really don't make anyone use doctor unless we're at work," he chuckled.

"Will do, Spencer. I hope you don't mind that I came over to sit with you. I can leave if you want the relaxation of being alone." She started to slide away from her seat slowly, giving him the opportunity to tell her she didn't need to leave. Which is exactly what he did.

"I don't mind. It's kind of nice to have company. I didn't realize how many people went to the spa with their partners," he told her.

"Well, perfect. We can experience this spa together then. So how come you didn't come here with your partner?" Y/n asked slyly. Spencer could feel his face heat up with the attention turned to himself.

"No partner. I actually had to come here by doctor's orders. I got shot in the leg last month, and as the last part of recovery my doctor wanted me to relax more and figured what better way to force me to relax than to send me to the spa.”

“Oh my gosh. I’m tempted to ask if you’re okay, but it seems like you are, since you’re sitting here. I had no idea your job could lead to such violence,” Y/n exclaimed.

“Every day is something different. They usually keep me off the field working from the office or police stations, but even then you never know what could happen,” Spencer explained.

“Wow. Okay, sorry. This is supposed to be relaxing and here I am bringing up work talk. What do you say we take a plunge into the cold?” Y/n asked with a grin.

This was probably the experience at the spa he was least likely to enjoy, but he followed her out of the water and next door to the cold pool. It was completely empty and Spencer was not surprised. Y/n grabbed his hand, sending a shock through his body, as they stood at the top of the stairs to the pool.

“It’s pretty likely that one of us is going to wimp out once our feet hit the water. So if need be, we have to drag the other person in, okay?” She said as she looked up at him. His voice got caught in his throat as he looked down at her and all he could do was nod in agreement.

With a deep breath in, together they stepped onto the first step. It was so cold Spencer felt like his toes would fall off in a second. However he didn’t even get a second thought to think about stepping back out before y/n fell forward into the water, pulling him with her. He had to grab onto her hips for stability so he didn’t end up falling on top of her in the 3 feet of water.

“It’s so cold,” Y/n gasped out.

It might have been 15 seconds, it might have been 5 minutes, but Spencer felt lost in time as he held Y/n in his arms in the freezing cold water. He didn’t even feel that cold in the places where Y/n’s skin touched his. Slowly, as if held down by some invisible force, he removed his hands from her hips and grabbed her hand this time to help her out of the water.

Feeling a new burst of energy from the cold shock, Spencer helped Y/n into her robe before putting on his, then wordlessly grabbed her hand and led her to one of the saunas. Inside, they were met with a blast of heat as Spencer guided Y/n to the back bench. Every seat in the sauna faced a wall made of glass that overlooked a small lake with a fountain cascading in the middle. As he relaxed into his seat, Y/n decided to lay out on the bench beside him and use his thigh as a head rest.

Neither of them said a word as they gazed out the window, watching the birds fly by and the ducks swim in the lake.

Spencer thought back to the night of Penelope’s party. After he had pushed himself to the wall to avoid interacting with people, he did end up watching from afar as Y/n made her way around talking to all the guests. He might have initially felt intimidated, but he was also fascinated with her. He’d seen a lot of different people with his job, and he’d seen people with colourfully dyed hair before as well, but something about her red curls just drew in his eyes and he couldn’t take them back.

She was beautiful, enchanting even, and he wanted to get her phone number. But then he had thought back to their last case. Where they had been gone for 16 days in a row. He had watched JJ as she video called Will and her kids any chance they got. Watched Hotch take numerous phone calls from his son. Even Morgan escaped for private chats with Savannah. He wasn’t sure if that was something he would be able to handle. So eventually he said goodnight to Penelope, left the party, and left any thoughts he had about Y/n behind as well.

Now that Penelope had schemingly gotten her back into his life, he was determined to make sure he got her number before leaving again.

Spencer and Y/n enjoyed the spa amenities for another couple hours, cycling through the recommended steps while chatting quietly or relaxing in silence. Despite not doing much, they started to feel tired from the heated pools and saunas before eventually agreeing to meet outside in the parking lot after they got changed so they could say a proper goodbye.

Spencer rushed through changing, not wanting to take too long in case Y/n decided she didn’t want to stay, and made it outside in record time. He stood off to the side at the parking lot entrance, waiting for her with his heart racing. It took her a little bit longer, but eventually he saw her walking down the path.

Her hair was down now, damp and a little frizzy from her curls trying to poke through. Wearing a simple black zip up sweater and black leggings, she looked cozy but also like she was about to rob a bank. She smiled at him when she reached his spot, taking his hand in hers to lead him to where she parked. The lot had almost emptied, leaving mostly staff vehicles and the last few remaining spa guests wanting to get every minute out of their visit as they could. Even with the empty lot, Y/n led Spencer to her car, a little black Honda, parked alone in the corner lit up only by the bright moon in the sky.

“Thanks for letting me hang out with you tonight, Spencer,” Y/n told him when they stopped beside her car. She didn’t move to unlock it, opting instead to stand there with her hand still clasped in his.

“Of course. It was really lovely to see you again, Y/n,” said Spencer. Okay, he thought to himself, now is the time to do it. Bite the bullet and ask for her number. “Would you, maybe, be willing to exchange numbers and we can plan to go out for coffee some time soon?”

Y/n broke into a smile. “I would love that,” she said before reciting her number. She knew he would remember it, if Penelope’s constant chatter about how amazing Spencer’s memory is was to be true.

“Awesome. So, I guess I’ll talk to you later?” Spencer moved to head back to his own vehicle but was stopped by a hand placed on the centre of his chest.

“Yeah. Or,” said Y/n, “Maybe we could do this?”

Before he could ask what ‘this’ was, she used the hand on his chest to push him back against the door of her car. Then she leaned in, rising up onto her toes to try and match his height, and placed her lips on his. It was quick, but enough to leave Spencer breathless, before she pulled away the slightest bit to look into his eyes.

“Is this okay?” she asked, and when he mumbled out a yes, nodding his head, she wasted no time going back in.

Their lips crashed together in an instant, almost too eager to finally be getting what they’ve both been craving all night. Y/n removed her hand from his chest to bring both of them into his hair, feeling the damp curls and giving them a little tug. Spencer brought his arms around her waist tightly, bringing her in closer to help relieve the strain of standing on her toes.

He couldn’t believe this was happening, and in a parking lot. But he wouldn’t change a thing. Y/n’s hands made their way down to the back of his neck, before she brought them to his jaw. He let out a groan when she pulled on his bottom lip with her teeth, before their tongues collided with one another.

Spencer brought his hands down even further, to grip the soft area at the back of her thigh just underneath her butt. He used his new grip to pull her up higher, spinning them around so that it was her back pressed against the car this time. She wrapped her legs around him to hold on as Spencer moved one of his hands up to her face, running his fingers along her jaw before finally pushing her hair back away from her neck. He broke away from her mouth to trail kisses along her neck, stopping to suck or nip at areas that drew a soft moan from her lips. He made his way down to her chest, where she had left part of the sweater unzipped.

When he pulled back on the sweater he stopped with a groan, breathing deeply as he held her closer and grew tighter in his pants. Where he was expecting to see some sort of lace bra, instead he was met with nothing. She wasn’t wearing anything under the sweater. Hungrily, he opened her sweater more and he attached himself to the soft swell of her breast. Kissing, sucking, and gently biting.

Without even realizing it, they started to move against each other. Spencer rolled his hips against hers, seeking that friction but focusing his attention on the skin between his lips.

“Oh, fuck.” Y/n threw her head back in a moan as Spencer finally attached his mouth to the hard nub that was waiting for attention. He swirled his tongue around as he sucked on the sensitive area. “That feels so good.” she groaned. She brought her hands up to tangle them in his hair and hold him in place, only letting him move when he wanted to show her other side some love as well.

It was difficult to move much against the car, but Spencer was hitting her in all the right places. Y/n could feel a familiar welcomed pressure building in her core and she gripped her legs tighter around him.

“Spencer,” y/n breathed out. “I’m close.”

He lifted his head enough to look at her. Her head back and eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. “Yeah?” he asked and she nodded her head while trying to move her hips faster against his.

Spencer ground into her with a new purpose now. Paying more attention to the moves from his hips, he went back to sucking on her breast. This time he brought his hand to palm the other one. Squeezing and feeling the fullness of it in his hand. He rolled and pinched her nipple between his fingers at the same time as he gently grazed his teeth over the other one. It was enough to send Y/n over the edge, with Spencer right behind her.

Spencer’s thrusts grew short until eventually they stopped as they came down from their high. He brought her in for another kiss, lazily moving his lips against hers while they got their breathing under control. Finally, Y/n unwrapped her legs from around him and he let her go.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe we just did that,” she said with a suddenly shy smile and glanced up at him. He looked down at her like he was seeing an angel.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. He gripped the edges of her sweater and zipped it up tight to her neck. ��What do you say we skip the coffee and go right back to my place?”

“I like the way you think. Lead the way.”

Click here for chapter 2! Available on AO3 only because it's basically smut and I was too nervous to post it on Tumblr lol

Thank you for reading, liking, or rebloging! <3

#spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #alleys writing #spencer reid/fem reader

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ltwilliammowett · 6 months ago

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Ekke Nekkepenn - the merman

In short, Ekke Nekkepenn is a merman who lives with his wife Rahn at the bottom of the North Sea and plays pranks on sailors and inhabitants of the North Frisian islands.

The best-known realisation of the Ekke-Nekkepenn myth today can be traced back to Christian Peter Hansen, who condensed and reshaped various sagas from the North Frisian region into his own continuous narrative in his Sagen und Erzählungen der Haidebewohner auf Sylt (Sagas and Tales of the Haide Inhabitants on Sylt), published in 1858. The first section of this tale is entitled ‘Der Meermann Ekke Nekkepenn’.

The story begins with Ekke Nekkepenn asking the wife of the captain of a Sylt ship sailing to England in a storm for help with the birth of her child. The beautiful and helpful captain's wife is led by the mariner to his wife Rahn, who lives at the bottom of the North Sea, and returns to the surface after a successful birth, richly endowed with gold and silver. The skipper and his wife are able to continue their journey in fine weather and later return safely and soundly to their home in Rantum on Sylt.

Many years later, Ekke Nekkepenn remembers this incident and decides - in view of the fact that Rahn has become ‘old and wrinkled’ in the meantime - to take the captain's wife as his wife instead. One day, when he spots the Rantum captain's ship, he persuades Rahn, who is sitting on the bottom of the sea, to grind salt, and the Sylt skipper and his crew perish in the resulting strong whirlpool.

On his way to the captain's wife, Ekke Nekkepenn, who has transformed himself into a handsome sailor, meets her virgin daughter Inge on the beach near Rantum. Against her will, he puts a golden ring on each of her fingers, hangs a golden chain around her neck and declares her his bride. When the girl tearfully begs him to release her, he replies that he can only do so if she can tell him her name the next evening. But nobody on the island knows the unknown stranger. As Inge walks along the beach again in despair the next evening, she hears a voice singing from the mountain at the southern tip of the island near Hörnum:

Today I shall brew; Tomorrow I shall bake; The day after tomorrow I want to get married. My name is Ekke Nekkepenn, My bride is Inge von Rantum, And nobody knows that but me alone.

She then runs to the agreed meeting place and calls out to the stranger arriving there: ‘Your name is Ekke Nekkepenn and I'll stay Inge von Rantum.’ Ever since that time, the man of the sea, who has been coerced in this way, has harboured a great rage against the islanders of Sylt and is always up to mischief when he feels like it. He destroys their ships in storms, causes them to sink in Rahn's maelstrom and damages the Sylt coastline with the tides he unleashes.

This myth is particularly prevalent on Sylt itself, because as soon as it storms, Ekke is said to be angry and he is once again angry with everyone.

It is not entirely clear what the myth itself is based on, but it is clear that Hansen has worked with two things: Nordic mythology and its sea god Ögis or Ekke as he is called in Frisian. In his ‘Materials for a Frisian Mythology’, published in 1850, Hansen writes: ‘The god of the sea was called Ögis by the Germans, Eiger by the Danes, Eie or Eia by the Frisians, also Ekke or Nekke. […] His wife was the goddess Ran, who blessed the beach, pulled the shipwrecked into her nets and after whom the old beach and dune village of Rantum was perhaps named. Incidentally, in Norse, Rane means to rob. According to a Frisian legend, Ekke once went to a woman from Rantum named Inge, but was given a basket.’ The problem here is that it is a pure invention by Hansen himself, this kind of Nordic mythology does not exist.

The second is Rumpelstiltskin. The Rumpelstiltskin variant used by Hansen belongs to a widespread complex of fairy tales and legends. In most of these tales, a dwarf or other creature helps a girl spin a certain amount of flax. The original North Frisian form of the story - which Hansen follows in his composition - does not contain precisely this element. This means that it belongs to a relatively small group of forms, which includes sagas from Pomerania, Lower Saxony, Tyrol, Lower Austria and Schleswig-Holstein. However, here he uses the verse often found in Rumpelstiltskin, except what is a merman doing on a mountain?

Apart from what Hansen has probably used here to give Ekke a story, it is more likely that this myth has been around on the islands for a long time and only in different versions and without a real name. It can therefore be assumed that Hansen was just trying to give it a unified story and a name.

#naval history #naval myth #merman #frisian islands #19th century #age of sail #age of steam

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paikothecateater · 1 month ago

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Nordics when they crash out?

I'm doing the same format as the broken bones thing. Purely because it's too funny.

Denmark normally doesn't really crash out. He has half crash-outs where he'll get super pissed and rant really loudly for like three seconds before going 'okay, I need to just calm down for a second.' when it happens, it's usually because the others are fighting and refusing to be normal.

Sweden's reaction is to discreetly try to get Denmark to fully crash out. It never works because Denmark does not have the energy to deal with their bullshit.

Finland is always instantly like 'sorry!'

Norway finds it ridiculously funny.

Iceland rolls his eyes, super unbothered because he already told the others to stop, but do they ever listen to him? No.

There are two types of Sweden crash-outs. Regular and teaching Iceland how to drive. If he's just normally crashing out (usually because Denmark) he just glares and tries to hurt him verbally (unsuccessfully because stuttering) if it's teaching Iceland how to drive crash-out, there's yelling. "ICELAND! ARE YOU LOOKING AT THE ROAD?! ARE WE SEEING THE SAME THING?! MAYBE YOU NEED TO OPEN YOUR EYES?!"

Denmark always takes Sweden crashing out as a personal dare to make it worse.

Finland just passes away. Done. He's lived a good life. That's it, YKnow? All good things must come to an end. Here lies Finland, he saw Sweden actually mad.

Norway doesn't have to deal with it. He's the favourite.

Iceland will cry. As soon as they get home, there's almost like a salt line at the front door, and the demon that possesses Sweden into Gordon Ramseying Iceland has to retreat. Sweden will always apologise for yelling. He'll put his hands on Iceland's shoulders and say something to the effect of "listen, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. You're still learning, and me yelling only made it worse. You did great."

Finland crashing out is by far the scariest. He will throw things at people. He will yell, and if you're unfortunate enough to be the target of said crash out, pull out a pen and paper because you don't have a will, and you're gonna need one really soon.

Denmark always tries to de-escalate, but if worse comes to worst, he'll probably have to actually step in and get Finland to calm down before he hurts someone.

Sweden is absolutely terrified of Finland crash-outs. He will run away as soon as he even feels like Finland might be close to crashing out.

Norway will also get mad and then you have two really scary guys at each other's throats, but at least it redirects Finland's anger.

Iceland finds it moderately funny if it's directed at someone else. If it's directed at him, he will hide behind Denmark.

If it's Norway crashing out, it's pretty bad. If you have children, you don't anymore. What you have are ticking timebombs who you will no longer be able to trust to go out in public because Norway is about to unlock the sailor vocabulary pro max premium.

Denmark's immediate response is to cover Iceland's ears because the sheer level of profanity coming out of Norway's mouth would kill him.

Sweden tries to get Norway to calm tf down because it is not that serious. He will only make it worse.

Finland covers his own ears and clutches his figurative pearls because Norway is just on another level of crass when he's crashing out.

Iceland is willing to slap him across the face, so he'll calm down, but he's too busy having his nonexistent innocence protected by Denmark.

Iceland is the only one who crashes out normally. Random yelling, probably some crying in there and word vomit that no one can understand.

Denmark's response is to essentially go 'oh, my child isn't happy... I'll just carry him until he calms down. And whoever said teenagers are just big toddlers was right because Iceland will calm down like that.

Sweden lets him get it out of his system. Partially because he doesn't know what to do and partially because he's scared of Iceland. Iceland is probably the only one that doesn't just get angry. He doesn't even get mad at all. He just gets really frustrated.

Finland is also like 'awe... Poor baby is upset' and will force him into a hug.

Norway just kinda stares at him and when he's done, he'll just give him a look like 'you done?' then give him a hug.

#aph nordics #aph headcanons #aph iceland #hws iceland #aph norway #hws norway #aph denmark #hws denmark #aph sweden #hws sweden #aph finland #hws finland

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stinkfacestories · 7 months ago

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What other kinks were you thinking for the guys to add on top of the stinkface?

Great Question! Here is a list of all the guys so far:

Greg Johnson

Stereotype/Fetish: Muscle Bear / Muscle Worship

Summary: A tall, heavily muscular man with a thick beard and a friendly demeanor. Greg enjoys mentoring others in bodybuilding and values respect and camaraderie. He has a particular interest in muscle worship.

Max Turner

Stereotype/Fetish: Leather Enthusiast / Dominance

Summary: A rugged, muscular man with closely cropped hair and tattoos. Max wears leather gear and exudes confidence and assertiveness. He enjoys sparring and has a dominant streak, extending to playful interactions.

Brad Thompson

Stereotype/Fetish: Jock / Jockstraps

Summary: The epitome of athleticism, Brad has a perfect tan and a competitive yet friendly demeanor. He thrives on challenges and engages in high-intensity workouts.

Ethan Sullivan

Stereotype/Fetish: Gamer Bear / Scent (Sweat and Musk)

Summary: A large, heavily set man with a laid-back and humorous demeanor. Ethan loves gaming and balances time between the gym and online streams.

Robert Harrison

Stereotype/Fetish: Daddy / Daddy-Boy Dynamics

Summary: A mature, well-built man with salt-and-pepper hair and a well-groomed beard. Rob is an authoritative "Daddy" figure who values respect and proper conduct. He is a supportive mentor and takes his role seriously.

Jake Martinez

Stereotype/Fetish: Playful Gym Enthusiast / Farting

Summary: A large, muscular man known for his playful and unapologetic demeanor. Jake enjoys light-hearted pranks and jokes

Troy Harris

Stereotype/Fetish: Gym Bully / Dominance

Summary: An athletic man with sharp features and a domineering presence. Troy uses intimidation to assert his dominance and engages in confrontational tactics

Erik Larsen

Stereotype/Fetish: Viking Daddy / Dominance and Submission

Summary: A tall, muscular Nordic man with a rugged build and a large, braided beard. Erik has a playfully dominant personality and views the player as his "little viking." He enjoys pushing others to their limits and occasionally indulges in playful dominance.

Connor O'Malley

Stereotype/Fetish: The Closeted Celebrity / Voyeurism

Summary: A towering figure with a blend of rugged charm and magnetic charisma. Connor is a famous actor and athlete with a fetish for voyeurism, balancing his public persona with a private life.

Liam McKenzie

Stereotype/Fetish: Gentle Giant / Cuddling and Comfort

Summary: A tall, incredibly muscular Scottish man with a kind and gentle demeanor. Liam enjoys providing comfort and support, with a particular fondness for cuddling and close physical contact.

Adrian Ross

Stereotype/Fetish: Fitness Model / Self-Worship and Exhibitionism

Summary: A strikingly handsome man with a perfectly sculpted physique. Adrian enjoys posing and flexing, loving the attention his body garners. He has a fetish for self-worship and thrives on being the center of attention.

Jason Nakamura

Stereotype/Fetish: Yoga Enthusiast / Flexibility and Bondage

Summary: A lean and flexible Polynesian man with a calm and centered presence. Jason's dedication to yoga has given him incredible flexibility, and he enjoys exploring the boundaries of physical limits through flexibility and bondage.

#Sweat and Secrets #stinkface stories

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vapeandgo · 5 months ago

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shini--chan · 2 months ago

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The Nordic 5 - Eris, Freyja, Loki, Ra and Shiva of the Yandere Alphabet. I need some insperation to start righting again.

I hope this gives you the kickoff you need.

From the ask game: Yandere Alphabet: Gods & Goddesses

Yandere Nordic 5 - Guidelines

Trigger warnings: stalking, kidnapping, psycho-terror, suicidal ideation, mindbreak, abuse, other yandere themes, victim blaming

Eris - What are their red lines? Are they easy to anger?

Denmark would have his triggers. Most of the time it would be infuriatingly difficult to get a rise out of him. Most of the time, he would just laugh any insults or attempts of harm off. However, there are some things that are guaranteed to generate a quick rise from him - harming yourself or earnestly injuring him. Most of the stuff outside that would be attributed to you being feisty or having an attitude. However, doing something that would require medical attention with you being the cause would evoke white-hot rage. The same would go if somebody would harm you. When in such a state, he would be neigh unreasonable and prone to violence. Expect punishments to be cooked up/ the person responsible for hurting you to be brutalised.

Finland would be sneaky with his anger. Little what you could do would bring out the whole force of his wrath - that is reserved for greater injustices and world altering political matters. And the occasional road rage. Thus, his anger would be shown in little things, like passive aggressiveness and sarcasm and exposing you to too much salted licorice. In order to cross red lines, you would either have to side with Russia or also completely turn the tables and treat him like some colonial subject.

Iceland would be inclined to bottling his anger up. As young and peaceful as he normally is, he wouldn't really know how to handle problems in your “relationship”. Most of the time, he would let you direct matters and play any tune you want (you may be captain of this ship, but you may never leave). However, that wouldn’t mean that everything would sit right with him. While he would communicate the one or the other grievance to you, there would be much that would be misunderstood and that he would be unable to verbalise. As such, it would fester like a sullied wound until the infection would become too aggrievious to ignore. There would be an outburst, and you as well be collateral.

Norway wouldn’t be the best at communicating his anger so it would seep out in cold shoulders and harsh grips and leaving you without a blanket to sleep with. Lukas wouldn't offer any explanation either - you'd just have to understand that you've done something wrong and need to make amends. As for red lines - he would somehow be particularly sensitive to you throwing his romantic gestures back in his face, and for insults. Those would be met with outright slaps at times, and him even laying you over his knee to spank you. It would never go in a sexual direction, though. If you would become aroused by it, then he would switch over to humiliating you, and that wouldn't be framed in a sexual manner either.

Sweden would be easy to anger at times though he would have a phlora of healthy coping mechanisms for that. Chopping wood would be a favourite of his, along with spear fishing. However, there wouldn't be times when he'd remove himself from the scene fast enough. Then, you would be gagged and manhandled into the next closet or bare room for a time out. If that wouldn't suffice, then blood would be spilled. Not your's of course. He would just wish for a quiet life with you (quite literally often) so he wouldn't tolerate much ruckus.

Freyja - How official would your relationship be? Marriage with a glittering facade or their dirty little secret?

Denmark would desire a picturesque marriage with you. A small house with you and some pets, maybe an adopted child or two would be in the cards. You'd bake cakes on the weekends and he'd invite the neighbors over for a Sunday grill every now and then. In summer you'd play Badminton together on a meadow, and in winter he'd take you sailing and ice fishing. It would be an organised, quaint life. He'd just have to reprimand you behind the scenes to keep you in place, and teach you the occasional painful lesson to keep you in place.

Finland would build the image of his relationship with you on mystery. Mysteriousness enhances attractiveness and, in his case, credibility. Little hints would be dropped here and there, selectively of course, to shape the image of a streamy and loving relationship. Thus, if you were ever to escape or also try to enlist the aid of somebody that knows/knows of him, you'd likely fail. There would only be few that would know of his darker sides.

Iceland wouldn't present his relationship nor would he hide it. He just wouldn't have the energy to conceal everything while also not wanting to suffer the unsolicited advice that people are prone to giving. Besides, he would have difficulty navigating this new relationship (i.e making sure you behave) that he just wouldn't be able to find it himself to completely control the public narrative on you. Besides, he would be too selfish to really let you out, so the chances of you going out as a couple and being recognised as such would be very low.

Norway would squirrel you away to never be seen again. You could just as well have been swallowed by the earth or kidnapped by fairies. As possessive and obsessive as he is, he wouldn't tolerate other people knowing about you, if it can be avoided. If other people are aware of your whereabouts, then they might seek you out. Or worse, they could try to take you away from him. No way in the world would he tolerate that.

Sweden would prefer to keep your relationship as private as possible. Letting other people have relationships with you would only complicate matters, and thus, he would only let you see and be with him. Other people would be completely prohibited from interacting with you. Should outsiders catch wind of his relationship and request to meet you, then he would cook up excuses like you struggling with trauma or social anxiety and therefore not being in the right state of mind to meet other people.

Loki - Could you manipulate them and if yes, how so?

Denmark would be surprisingly easy to manipulate in a certain sense. You see, you would be deemed as mostly harmless by him and thus manipulation wouldn't come to mind during most of your interactions. As such, and if you're sufficiently good at acting, then you could really push him into doing what you want him to do. Just pair your spiels with affection or tears and his heart would melt. He'd even let you set up situations where you could escape - he would love the chase after all.

Finland would allow you to push him around as long as you'd abide by the playground rules. Prodding him to do the one or the other thing for you would be taken graciously and with amusement. Timo would have nothing against small manipulations and would give you lee way in order to make you feel more comfortable with him. Additionally, it would be more comfortable for him to not have to constantly keep his guard up and weigh your every other word. However, if you'd push too far or also too fast, then the walls would shoot up and he'd put his foot down.

Iceland would loath the idea of being manipulated. As such he would be weary and on guard more often than not. Despite how he would detest admitting it, he would be conscientious of the fact that you two wouldn't have a healthy relationship. Witnessing you trying to manipulate would set him off and he'd fly off the handle. That being said, he would be awkward and unsure about himself, so should be able to get some bs past the radar.

Norway would be partially angry at you for putting him in this situation (really, he would blame you for him kidnapping you and say that you're making him abuse you) and you trying to manipulate him would fit exactly in the role of the deceiving minx he'd see you as. Therefore, many avenues for manipulation would be blocked from the get go. That being said, his image of you would serve as a corner myth for your relationship and if you'd act outside his concrete view of you, then it would either confuse him or not compute at all. You could use this to your advantage.

Sweden wouldn't even present much opportunity for manipulation, and even if, then it wouldn't matter most of the time. The environment would be chosen by him and he would set the tune. In chance of you getting a foot in the door, then he would be well versed enough in diplomacy and politics to bat your attempts aside.

Ra - Would they stalk you? How closely would you be watched while under their care?

Denmark would refrain from stalking you on a large part and rather insist you spend as much time as possible with him. Before the two of you would enter that phase, he would scout you out by gently inquiring about you during conversations with your loved ones. Later, it would transition over into dates or hang-out, if possible. Largely, he would come over as an enthusiastic and overly loving boyfriend. Perhaps he would manage to play his cards carefully enough that his charm would blind you from seeing all the red flags. To reiterate - he wouldn’t stalk you and even later on, he wouldn’t keep a very close eye on you.

Finland would stalk you to scare you. Many a time he would be capable of concealing his presence fully and not leaving a trace. However, he would purposefully leave clues to his doings - not enough to know who would be stalking you, only enough to let you know that you’re being stalked. This would be a form of psychological terror that he would relish in inflicting on you. This man would live for your skittish movements and fear-driven stupidity. Later on, he would watch you closely as a form of entertainment and continue messing with you on a semi-regular basis. As much as he would want you to become comfortable with him, he wouldn’t want matters to become boring.

Iceland would pine after you, and in many ways act like an awkward teenage boy. It would also be what would allow him to get away with most of his stalking, since many people would consider it more amusing than concerning. Afterwards, in his care, you would often catch him staring at you only to look away hastily once you make your awareness of it apparent. Emil would be the sort to watch you sleep and gather all your loose hair. With the latter, he’d even stuff a pillow so that he would always be close to you in his sleep, even when you’re locked in a closet for punishment.

Norway would be near dismissive with his attention here. Lukas would try to resist the temptation only to be sucked in later on and fully commit to stalking you while completely blaming you. During the times he’d follow you and watch you, his head would be filled with obscenities and he’d curse you and your family line. He’d be like an addict that can’t shake off their addiction and would place the blame on everybody but himself. In the case of you being imprisoned by his hand, he would keep a careful eye on you. The reason he’d give you would be to make sure you behave yourself. This would be a lie that he’d tell himself in order to sleep easily.

Sweden wouldn’t stalk you as much as he would consider you. This would also be him trying to squash his feelings by pointedly refusing to check you out, to stalk you or to privately inquire about you. Therefore, kidnapping you would really come out of the blue. Afterwards, he would commonly stare at you from the corners of his eyes, or use mirrors to watch you. That way, he’d be able to seem somewhat normal and also have some plausible deniability should you ever call him out on his behaviour.

Shiva - Would they break you? What would cause them to do so?

Denmark would at most break you through wear and tear. Or you would invoke his anger a few too many times. It is important to note here that Matthias would be a very intense person towards you, and it wouldn’t be surprising if his passion would burn you. Having to comply with his demands and whims day in and day out, or also having to fight against him and be disregarded could very well result in you becoming … burned out. He wouldn’t even dial down his personality unless somebody would intervene or also absorb most of his attention.

Finland wouldn’t break you if he could avoid it. Where would the fun in that be? Besides, he wouldn’t really know what to do with the empty shell of a person. This is funny since he would be the most likely to break you out of everybody on this list by the virtue of his antics. He would do his best to build you back up before you would break, however, so that he could resume his nonsense.

Iceland would fumble you at the most. This young man wouldn’t have a very good handle on his emotions. Mind you, this is no justification, simply an explanation of what it would lead to. Rebelling against him and sticking to your guns would cause him to retaliate, and thus a resonation of violence would begin which would likely culminate in either one of you breaking. That, or he would take a punishment or a precaution too far, or act out of desperation and then shatter you. It would be something that he would deeply regret and never forgive himself for.

Norway would break you as a form of revenge. This is a man that could switch between reverence and disgust. Should the coin land with disgust facing upwards then he might go as far as to shatter you. You would be blamed for making him fall so far and those you would have to be punished for your transgressions. Breaking you would mean robbing you of your wiles, and in his anger, he might see that as the best path to take.

Sweden would only do so accidently. As mentioned before, he would just wish to lead a quiet life with you and if you would disturb that peace, then he would bring the hammer down. Should he fly off the handle, then he might go too far. Or, the circumstances would slowly corrode at your sanity and he would be in denial of his mistreatment until it would be too late. That being said, he might decide to break you if you’re suicidal - a measure to stop you from taking your own life.

#yandere hetalia #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere alphabet #yandere denmark #yandere norway #yandere sweden #yandere finland #yandere iceland #yandere nordics

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lost-boy-into-the-upper-heavenly · 3 months ago

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The History of the Yule Log 🪵🎄

The custom of burning the Yule Log goes back to, and before, medieval times. It was originally a Nordic tradition. Yule is the name of the old Winter Solstice festivals in Scandinavia and other parts of northern Europe, such as Germany.❄️❄️

The Yule Log was originally an entire tree, that was carefully chosen and brought into the house with great ceremony. The largest end of the log would be placed into the fire hearth while the rest of the tree stuck out into the room! The log would be lit from the remains of the previous year's log which had been carefully stored away and slowly fed into the fire through the Twelve Days of Christmas. It was considered important that the re-lighting process was carried out by someone with clean hands. Nowadays, of course, most people have central heating so it is very difficult to burn a tree!

In Provence (in France), it is traditional that the whole family helps to cut the log down and that a little bit is burnt each night. If any of the log is left after Twelfth Night, it is kept safe in the house until the next Christmas to protect against lightning! In some parts of The Netherlands, this was also done, but the log had to be stored under a bed! In some eastern European countries, the log was cut down on Christmas Eve morning and lit that evening.

In Cornwall (in the UK), the log is called 'The Mock'. The log is dried out and then the bark is taken off it before it comes into the house to be burnt. Also in the UK, barrel makers (or Coopers as barrel makers were traditionally called) gave their customers old logs that they could not use for making barrels for Yule logs. (My surname is Cooper, but I don't make barrels! My Great Grandfather did own a walking stick factory though!)

The custom of the Yule Log spread all over Europe and different kinds of wood are used in different countries. In England, Oak is traditional; in Scotland, it is Birch; while in France, it's Cherry. Also, in France, the log is sprinkled with wine, before it is burnt, so that it smells nice when it is lit.🥂🍷

In Devon and Somerset in the UK, some people have a very large bunch of Ash twigs instead of the log. This comes from a local legend that Joseph, Mary and Jesus were very cold when the shepherds found them on Christmas Night. So the shepherds got some bunches of twigs to burn to keep them warm.

In some parts of Ireland, people have a large candle instead of a log and this is only lit on New Year's Eve and Twelfth Night.

Different chemicals can be sprinkled on the log like wine to make the log burn with different colored flames!🔥

* Potassium Nitrate = Violet

* Barium Nitrate = Apple Green

* Borax = Vivid Green

* Copper Sulphate = Blue

* * Table Salt = Bright Yellow

This sounds very dangerous, so please only try this out with some adult supervision!!

The ashes of Yule logs were meant to be very good for plants. This is true, because the ash from burnt wood contains a lot of 'potash', which helps plant flowers. But if you throw the ashes out on Christmas day it was supposedly very unlucky.

A Chocolate Yule Log or 'Bûche de Noël' is now a popular Christmas dessert or pudding. It's traditionally eaten in France and Belgium, where they are known as 'Kerststronk' in Flemish.

They are made of a chocolate sponge roll layered with cream. The outside is covered with chocolate or chocolate icing and decorated to look like a bark-covered log. Some people like to add extra decorations such as marzipan mushrooms!

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wowbright · 27 days ago

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Anderson’s Guide to the Birds of North America, Chapter 10: Magic

Summary: Fourteen scenes from the lives of Blaine Anderson, grad student and avid birder, and Kurt Hummel, clothing designer and Vogue writer, from before their first meeting during the COVID lockdowns of spring of 2020 through falling in love. Written for the Klaine Valentine’s Challenge 2025.

Also on AO3.

~~~

Chapter 10: Magic

With people being discouraged from taking public transportation except for work, Blaine hadn't had a chance to go to some of his favorite spring birding spots.

“I wish I could show you the salt marshes,” he told Kurt one day when they were walking through the neighborhood toward the nearby cemetery so that Kurt could practice using his “new” binoculars somewhere people wouldn't accuse him of looking in their windows (which, to be fair, he did do sometimes; he had given Blaine a very detailed description of the wallpaper in the living room of Mrs. Finkelstein from across the street—Blaine couldn't fault Kurt for looking, the design sounded so fascinating—as well as an adorable rundown of mispronounced book titles from the shelves of the Nordic literature professor who lived above her). “They attract such an incredible variety of birds. You could double your life list in an afternoon, I bet.”

“Considering that my life list is only around five birds right now, I expect to be doubling it today at the cemetery.”

“You've seen more than five different species since we met.”

“Yes, but I only started keeping track on eBird yesterday.”

Blaine laughed. “Good thing I've kept lists of all our neighborhood sightings. I'll share them with you when I get home and you can add them to your account.”

“So where are these mysterious salt marshes, anyway? They sound like something you’d find in the Outer Banks of North Carolina.”

“Yes, probably. But you can also find them here in New York City along the shore. There's an amazing one a few miles from here. It's got great birding even outside of the migration, because of all the different habitats there—water and reeds and a bit of coastal forest. But I haven't been able to get there this year for obvious reasons.”

“You don't have a bike?” Kurt asked.

“No. I never needed one. Transit got me everywhere I needed to go that I couldn't walk to.”

“Rachel and I both have bikes. I'm sure she'd let you borrow hers. And if she doesn't, I'll just steal it from her on a temporary basis.”

Blaine chuckled again. He loved the way Kurt made him laugh. He had almost forgotten how to do it in those first few weeks of lockdown. But now, whenever he was with Kurt, he found himself laughing all the time—because Kurt said something funny, or because everything they did together felt new and exciting, or because Blaine had so many joyful feelings that they bubbled out his nose in tiny puffs of air.

“I'd love that,” Blaine said. “And I’d be happy to give it a thorough dousing with bleach before I give it back to her.”

“You are such the consummate gentleman, Blaine Anderson,” Kurt said.

Blaine giggled.

There was promise in the air as they entered the cemetery. They were the only ones there but the birds, singing and chattering and calling their morning communications. Blaine could pick out cardinals and song sparrows amid the robins and housefinches. He pointed his binoculars through the gravestones toward a forsythia bush, trying to track down a chipping sparrow whose call he’d just heard.

“A yellow-rumped warbler!” Kurt gasped.

“Where!?”

Kurt was standing five paces away, his binoculars in front of his face and trained in Blaine’s direction. Blaine turned around to follow Kurt’s line of sight. “In that juniper?”

“No, no,” Kurt said. “It's right where you're standing. Look down.”

Blaine looked passed the hem of his yellow chinos toward his feet. He twisted to look behind his feet. He looked to his left, then to his right. “I don't see it.”

“Too bad. I'm getting a great view.”

Blaine looked over his shoulder again. He tried again to link the angle of the binoculars with some object.

“I never knew their rumps could be so shapely,” Kurt said, his voice unusually flirtatious for describing a bird.

Oh.

Heat rose to Blaine's face. Delight bubbled out of him yet again in the form of laughter.

Kurt was looking at Blaine’s ass—and enjoying the view.

“So I’m the yellow-rumped warbler, am I?” Blaine asked.

Kurt grinned. “The finest I've ever seen.”

#Anderson’s Guide to the Birds of North America #fic: Anderson’s Guide to the Birds of North America #wowbright writes fic #klaine fanfiction #klainevalentines2025 #my klaine valentines

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jiubilant · 10 months ago

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4.E. 170

They unload the young Ervine at the Vetring docks along with twelve tuns of wine—which she counts as they bob down the wharf on the dockers’ backs, two by two—and four thin, shivering pigs. She’s not sure where to go. She’s standing dazed with sunlight on the loading-plank, flanked by squealing livestock and the rank, seasick steam of their breath, when two youths hurrying down the boardwalk smile and wave: a lanky young mage, his cloak dyed adept’s blue, and a boy her age with a skeletal face.

“For the Kynesdag feast in town,” says the mage in breathless introduction, divesting her of books and bundles both. He means the pigs, she realizes. He darts a look over his shoulder, another at the ship, then gives her a gentle shake: half-friendly, half-impatient. “We were told to meet you. What’s your name?”

She frowns at him, suspecting a joke at her expense, then recalls how far she is from Betony and her father’s rotting lands. He’s never cursed an Ervine, this mage with busy eyes.

“Mirabelle,” she says, her voice salt-hoarse. She’s eaten nothing but hardtack for two months.

He doesn’t even ask for the rest of it—just glances behind him again and marches her down the frost-chewed wharf. Wizards, of course, always have somewhere else to be.

“Falion of Conjuration,” he replies with a hasty grin, pulling her out of the way of some rickety gibbet for fish. The cod dangling from it like gallows-fruit watch her pass with baleful eyes, as does the woman stringing them up. “That’s Phinis, also of Conjuration. Phin,” he says to the boy, who’s casting nervous looks about him like wards, “you’ll have to get used to it.”

Phinis pulls a death’s-head face. “I don’t want to get used to it—”

One of the pigs blunders with a shriek into their path. The biggest of the men dragging it down the docks stumbles, swearing in some Nordic tongue—then, with a snarling glance at Mirabelle and her companions, spits at them.

“Happy Kynesdag,” croaks Phinis, cringing sideways. Falion, with an inscrutable look, lays a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“You’ll have to get used to it, too,” he says to Mirabelle, who stares at him. He clears his throat and, with a playful flourish of his cloak, raises his voice like a mummer on the stage. “Pay the ignorant masses no mind. You are now a student of Mystery”—he grips her shoulder with jovial force, steering her away—“a novitiate of the Secret Fire!”

“A witch,” says Mirabelle, her voice steady and soft.

Falion’s grin, swift as a warning, bounds again across his face. “A scholar!”

Mirabelle glances behind her. The man with the pig, staring after them, shivers and looks away.

* * *

“They hate us in the village,” Phinis confides in her over supper: a bowl of pale and wobbly fish, glistening like glue in the sheen of the wandering lights. “Falion says they’re afraid of what they don’t understand, and that we should be”—he makes a grim little face at his bowl—“understanding.”

“Oh,” says Mirabelle through a mouthful of fishpaste. It tastes like jellied steam. She’s discovered, in her ravenous journey to the bottom of the bowl, that she can swallow it without chewing. “Why?”

Phinis scowls. “That’s what I want to know—”

“No.” Mirabelle, in the spirit of scholarly inquiry, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. No one snaps at her for it. She dares a quick, gleeful lick at the back of her spoon. “Why are they afraid?”

“Falion says—” A pallid light kindles in Phinis’s eyes. “No. I’ll show you.”

They slip out of the refectory, accompanied by a bobbing light and a few incurious looks from the adepts’ table. Their footsteps echo in the corridor like cracking ice. Mirabelle, in her scratchy new College robes that smell of mothballs and musty spells, resists an unthinkable urge to dance up and down the hall until it resounds with noise. It would be unscholarly, she thinks. She hugs herself hard instead.

“If you think this is cold,” says Phinis sagely, misunderstanding her, “wait until end-of-term. Falion says we’ll have to crack the ice in our basins every morning.”

The giddiness, despite her best efforts to restrain it, wriggles up from her toes to her face. “What else does Falion say?”

Phinis gives her a wounded look. “You’re making fun.”

The rush of warmth she feels for the little cadaver—and for the supper-sludge, the itchy clothes, Falion who knows so much—threatens to knock her over. “I’m not.”

“It’s all right,” he says, his face funereal. She has to bite down on a laugh. “I’m used to it. We’ll go up those stairs to the ramparts.”

They wrestle with the door at the stairtop, which is frozen or rusted shut; it bangs open at last, and they tumble out into a blast of wind that nearly blows them over the parapet. Mirabelle, with a delighted shriek, grabs Phinis—poor bag of bones, he all but rattles—and staggers with him away from the crenellated wall.

The wind whips his scandalized yell past her ears. “Are you laughing?”

She is. Something in her has come unstuck. “Have you ever been up here before, or did Falion tell you about it?”

“You’re making fun!” He stomps ineffectually on her foot. “The wind comes and goes, you’ll see—”

“I’m not making fun!”

By the time they struggle arm-in-arm to the far parapet, the wind’s died down. They sag against the wall. Phinis, breathing hard, glowers so peevishly at Mirabelle that she bursts into laughter again—which makes his lips twitch, and his eyes gleam, and something almost like life flush in his face.

“What are you so happy about?” he demands, fighting a smile. Mirabelle can tell by the way he’s twisting his mouth. “Here we are at the frozen edge of the world—”

“I didn’t think they’d let me come,” Mirabelle gasps, rubbing her eyes. The tears in them sting like grains of salt. “What—what’d you want to show me?”

“Oh.” Phinis tugs her up, then points over the parapet. “Out there.”

What he had wanted to show her, Mirabelle realizes after a long, staring moment, is the sea. Gulls circle and cry over the gray mirror of the water. Glaciers—smaller, now, than they’ll be in midwinter—slouch in the shallows. The sun on the horizon breaks the surface like a drowned face.

It’s nothing that she hadn’t seen from the deck of the ship. She looks sidelong at Phinis.

“It wasn’t always a village,” he says.

A gull dips in the sky. The water shimmers, changeless and cold, over the roofs of the city of the dead.

#thank you @zurin for your help researching this one <3 #skyrim #college of winterhold #microfic #mirabelle ervine #phinis gestor #falion

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