#perfectus

[raleighcarreras]

perfectus

Part 1: and I know I said go slow

Pairing: wanda maximoff x black!fem!reader

Rating: M (language)

Wrd Cnt: 1.5k+ maybe?

Warnings/Tags: friends to lovers, angst, slow-ish burn, eventual smut

Part(s): 2,

Summary: You're determined to be in a committed relationship by Valentine's Day. So what if it's a capitalistic holiday that holds no real significance. In your 25 years of life, you've never had a Valentine and if you make it to 26 the same way, you might just jump out of a window. So, you and your best friend Wanda have 60 days to accomplish the impossible.

Little do you know, your Valentine has been right under your nose the entire time. And Wanda has a plan of her own. Sorta.

Notes: trying my little hand at a rom-com because I get to do whatever I want around here. here's the playlist for this fic. the title song is 365 by Katy Perry & Zedd. Translation done by Google translate of course.

Falling deeper than before. Say that you are ready, lock it up in a heartbeat.

How early was too early for stores to start prepping the shelves for Valentine's day? Christmas was still a week away. Certainly, you would have thought that would be too early.

But the Walgreens closest to your and Wanda's apartment had other ideas. They were shoving the teddy bears with hearts sewn to their paws right next to the teddy bears with santa hats sewn to their heads.

Even worse? They blended together seamlessly because everything was red!

You had crossed your arms and pouted severely as you recounted the blasphemy you had encountered (while trying to retrieve your daily vitamins and a bag of baked cheetos) to your best friend, Wanda Maximoff.

"Are you even listening, Wands?!" You shrieked something serious.

Wanda only peaked one of her eyes opened, "Yeah."

You flopped onto the couch heavily. You threw your feet to one end and laid your head in her lap, "Then what did I say?"

"You said that it was stupid to put the V-day stuff out so early but you only feel that way because it reminds you of how lonely you are."

You stared up at her, "That isn't what I said in the slightest."

"No, but it's what you meant."

You scrunched your nose up in offense, "I don't like you."

Wanda smiled softly, "Liar."

"You smell like smoke."

Wanda laughed out loud at that. She gestured for you to get off her lap so she could extradite herself from the couch, "That's what happens when you're a volunteer firefighter. Sometimes, you encounter fires."

Wanda stretched dubiously, as if to empathize her point. Her wife-pleaser raised above her midriff. You made it a point not to look. You had always been envious(?) of her body in a wierd homoerotic way that you rather not explore.

"Did you save everyone?"

Wanda walked over to the kitchen, probably in search of a Nutri-Grain bar, as was her routine.

"No one to save. Some teen thought it would be funny to light a match next to a newspaper stand."

You stretched your neck over the edge of the couch to see her. She was upside down in your vision, but you would make do.

"My brave bestie."

Wanda mumbled something that you couldn't hear.

"What was that?"

"I said it wasn't really about being brave. I could have thrown a cup of water on it and it would have been fine."

"Well, I still think you're brave. Even though you didn't run into a burning building today, doesn't mean you haven't before. And you're doing it for free? You're a hero in my book."

Wanda's cheeks reddened, "Thanks."

You hummed, "Where's Kaiser?"

"Who? Oh! I locked him in your room."

You gave a scandalized gasp and jumped up. You ran to your room, opening the door to the saddest puppy you have ever seen in your life.

You picked up the german shepherd and husky mix, cuddling him into your chest. You walked back into the livingroom with a scowl.

Wanda huffed, "What? He screams for you when you leave and I was trying to take a nap before I go to the bar."

"Your mommy is so mean, isn't she, my little kaiser roll?" You're 76% sure he nodded at you in confirmation.

"I'm not his mommy. He hates me! Despite having saved him from a tree. He's a dog, why was he in a tree!?"

"He's adventurous and he can smell your fear." You thought back to the day Wanda seemed to reluctantly come back home with a random puppy, despite not having left with one.

She told you that she had to boost Natasha into the tree during one of their shifts and in the process Natasha had stepped on her face to retrieve him. No one else could take him home and they didn't want to drop him off at a shelter because he was clearly not that smart. Wanda drew the short fire hose.

"He's the size of my shoe, I'm not scared of him."

"You're still a bad mom. Say sorry to our son."

Wanda turned to you with an incredulous look that quickly turned exasperated when she saw you were serious, "I'm sorry, Kaiser."

Kaiser gave her a look that was clearly meant to be perceived as triumph over Wanda.

"He said apology accepted."

Kaiser barked.

"No he didn't."

You placed Kaiser down on the floor and watched as he curled into a ball at your feet.

"Anyway, back to the problem I brought up earlier. I refuse to be without a Valentine next year. Tony is inevitably going to rent out your bar for a stupid little love day party and if I don't have a date I think I might explode."

Wanda returned to the livingroom. Kaiser nipped at her ankle when she got decidedly too close to you.

"Who cares if you have a date or not? You normally don't."

Your groan forced you deeper into the couch, "Exactly! All of our friends probably think I'm a loser and unlovable. And...and fuck, I just don't want to spend another year alone."

Wanda's brows furrowed, "You're not alone. You have me. And I know for a fact that you're not a loser and extremely lovable."

You pressed the palms of your hands into your eyes, "You're supposed to say that. You're my best friend. If you didn't think that the bestie police would like arrest you or something."

"That's not a real thing."

"Sure it is. And so is me needing to be boo'd up in the next 60 days." You crossed your arms over your chest.

"I'm still not understanding the rush-"

"Wanda, when was the last time I brought someone home?"

Wanda wished she didn't have to think so hard, "Oh! Three nights ago!"

"That was Pietro. And I definitely didn't fuck him. One, because he's gay, and two, because we were in here the whole night and you were with us!"

"Yeah...okay, last week?"

"That was Natasha." You deadpanned.

"The week before that?"

You rolled your eyes so hard Wanda feared she have to catch them when they fell out and rolled to the ground.

"That broad was here for you!"

Wanda sunk into the couch cushions, "Damn. It has been awhile."

"See?!"

"But that doesn't mean you need to fall over yourself to find someone by Valentine's day. Besides, we always do Galentine's instead. What about that?"

"Technically, I need to find someone before then because I want to be in a committed relationship by V-day. We can still do Galentine's with Nat and Carol. It'll just have to be earlier in the day." You said easily. You didn't notice the miffed expression Wanda was giving you.

"How are you going to even do any of this?"

You smiled brightly, turning to face Wanda, "With your help, of course! And probably Nat, Tony, Carol, and Sam's too. You guys will find me suitable dates. And we'll go from there. I'll even reactivate my Tinder account."

Wanda's frown deepened even further, "But you hate Tinder."

"That's how you know I'm serious about this."

Wanda watched as you frantically typed away on your phone. Informing your friends of your plans and setting up multiple online dating profiles.

"There's no talking you out of this, is there?"

You only shook your head with an infuriating smile.

"Fine. I'll ask around I guess."

"Yay! Thank you, Wands!" You threw yourself into Wanda for a hug. Wrapping your arms around her neck as much as you could.

Wanda patted your back.

"Youre welcome, Detka. At least this way I know they won't be the losers you normally have an affinity for."

You pulled away, "I do not have an 'affinity for losers'."

Wanda raised an eyebrow, "Which one of your exes has not been a loser?"

"Carly!"

"We were 16 when you dated Carly. She was definitely a loser."

"Jackson?"

Wanda's eyes widened, "Jackson tried to cheat on you. With me!"

You shrugged, more than over that by now, "Yeah, but he was so hot. And his dic-"

"Okay. You win. Moving on."

Kaiser hopped up onto your lap.

"Your mommy is so easy, Kai."

Wanda just scowled.

"And your dumbass agreed to that?"

Wanda huffed for the fourth time that evening.

This little coffee break with Natasha and Sam was not going well. She thought they'd be on her side when she explained the crazy episode you had the day before.

But instead, they were just staring at her like she had three heads. She wasn't the crazy one. You were!

"What do you mean? I had no choice. She volunteered me!"

Sam blinked. Once. Twice, "Did it not occur to you to just say 'No'?"

"Of course it did. But I couldn't!"

It was Natasha's turn to blink blankly, "And why not?"

"B-Because!"

Natasha and Sam shared a glance.

Natasha shook her head in astonishment, "Oh my God."

"What?" Wanda asked softly, thinking something was wrong.

"oH. My. GOd." Sam, for his part, looked just as confused as Wanda.

"What, Natasha?!"

"YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH Y/N!" Natasha exclaimed with a half shriek half laugh thing that caused her to choke. Sam patted her softly on the back while looking at Wanda in shock.

"Заткнись на хрен." Wanda said through gritted teeth, looking around the fire department's lounge like you would pop out from behind a light fixture at any second.

Sam pouted, "Hey, no Russian. Bucky still won't teach me anything. Not even the cuss words."

"She told me to 'shut the fuck up'. Which obviously means I'm right, Sammy boy."

Sam turned to Wanda, "Then why did you agree to this!?"

Wanda blew out a latte scented breath. The cat was out of the bag and there was no getting it back in. So, she might as well have leaned into it.

"Because she asked." Wanda shrugged.

"You simp. I'm so ashamed of you right now." Sam said with a shake of his head.

Wanda rolled her eyes, "When was the last time you said 'No' to Steve?"

"This isn't about me, Wanda."

"Anyway, so you're actually going to let her go on dates and potentially find a life partner even though you like her?" Natasha asked with a concerned grimace.

"Yes. As long as she's happy. If she liked me back she wouldn't always put me in second place."

Natasha shook her head, "That's not fair! You're always in second place because she doesn't even know you're in the damn race."

"And you're not going to tell her, are you?" Sam said with a soft, sad smile.

"No. I'm going to help her get ready for her dates with a big smile on my face. And if she finds the love her life. I'll be happy for her."

"Wanda?"

"Yes?"

"You looked like you were going to burst into sobs while saying that."

Wanda scratched at the side of her head, "Yeah. I'm-uh-still working on that."

Sam was silent for a moment, "Can we make a deal?"

"Depends?"

"If she still hasn't found a Valentine by February 13th, you ask her. And not in a 'besties gal pals BF4EVA' way. In a 'if you took off literally any peice of clothing even a sock I would have to change my pants' way."

Wanda dismissed her blush with a breathy chuckle, "Deal. But we all have to take this assignment seriously. I'm a last resort. No setting her up with losers."

Natasha and Sam both looked reluctant to shake hands on those terms, but they did anyway.

"Deal."

[pixies-and-poets]

Woodrow looking at the statue of Phantom: "What divine perfection... the incarnation of grace and beauty in a form we mortals can barely comprehend..." Phantom the night before: ^^^ (I love this so much, thank you!!!! :D Also I should draw Perfectus sometime... AND I LOVE THE CRAB LAKDSJFLK)

The drinking contest from @bramble-scramble's An Appeal to the Heavens because the idea of Phantom vs Augie is very amusing in any way, lol.

Added Perfectus to cheer his bro up even if he didn't last very long. Phantom, behave! Poor Augie's going to need more than a coffee to get rid of the hangover.

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The Alliance

Summary: Princess (Y/N)'s hunt has finally come, and Ivar has more than a country to explore.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

A/N: I know I haven't been uploading and I'm sorry, I've been working and this story in particular requires a LOT of research (like literally so much). That said please enjoy this chapter, remember if its bold that means it is spoken in the foreign language. This chapter does include a hunting scene so trigger warning if it applies.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Taglist:

The celebration of Princess (Y/N)’s homecoming was indeed an event that would be talked about in Tunisia for months, and the Norse travelers would never forget it. The beach, the dancing, the music, the food that was served was all breathtaking and bordering comfortably on the edge of overwhelming.

It was only when the feast was entirely eaten and the performers were physically unable to continue that everyone agreed to retreat to their own homes to rest.

Ivar found himself on the back of his father, he couldn’t fathom hauling his weight on his crutches after he had exhausted all his energy during the festivities. However; it seemed Ragnar had reserved just enough energy to help his youngest son to the palace.

He even carried Ivar’s crutches in his arms as Ivar clung to his back, and Ivar saw how his father’s grip on them left his knuckles pale white.

‘You do not like my crutches.’ he said, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of them as they lagged behind the royal party on the way back to the castle.

‘I do not like them.’ Ragnar confessed casually.

‘Why?’

‘You do not need them, Ivar; you move slower with them. I can tell it exhausts you and you break more bones by standing upright.’

‘I haven’t bro-’

‘You have.’ Ragnar interrupted the lie, his voice suddenly stern.

‘I am not your mother, I don’t need to see and hear you crying to know when you have pushed your body too far for its limitations. Every time I tried to hold you for the first year of your life I broke a bone in my rough handling.’

At his father’s confession Ivar was left speechless; how many times had his mother drunkenly rambled that as a babe Ivar cried whenever Ragnar picked him up? Of course Ivar had not known why he did this, he was too young, all he knew was his mother was telling the truth about it. Aslaug’s drunken complaining made up a large amount of Ivar’s childhood and sometimes her drunkenness made her dramatize the events but this was one of the few that never changed; Ragnar never spoke of it in front of him.

Not once in all his life.

‘Even the night I left you in the woods, it was your right ankle, it cracked as I tried to swaddle you. I hadn’t intended to leave you that night, I was just trying to hold you and I couldn’t do even that without hurting you.’ Ragnar continued.

‘You must not be used to the palm wine these Tunisians serve, mead has never made you drunk enough to tell me this before.’ Ivar tried weakly to joke.

He hadn’t been prepared to hear this, he had long ago come to accept that he would die without ever having had this conversation with his father.

‘I must not be.’ his father let out a humorless breath of laughter.

‘How do you know when I break a bone? Is it the blue in my eyes?’ Ivar asked.

‘No, son; it is not your eyes, it’s your nose.’

‘My nose?’

‘It scrunches up in a wince whenever a bone breaks, even as a baby before the cries could fall from your lips your nose would give you away. I also know because whenever I see you break a bone I feel it.’ his father confessed.

‘I feel the same sickness rise up in my throat, the same guilt. My guiltiness led me to abandon you, my guilt kept me from loving you. Guilt over how you were born, guilt that my impatience and disregard to your mother’s warning cost you your health.’

Ivar did not need any elaborations on what his father was referencing.

“His mother said he would be a monster.”

“Not even ten and already a killer.”

“There is something not human in him, I just know it.”

“She wasn’t even pregnant yet and she knew he’d be vile and twisted.”

“He even slithers around like the great serpent, he will bring Ragnarok to us all!”

Phrases like these were whispered around him all his life; his mother’s prophecy that if Ragnar had her too soon she would birth him a monster.

‘I do not blame you, or mother, I am not angry with you father. I never have been… I never could be. I-’ Ivar felt like he was physically choking on the words he was trying to say.

It was the first time he’d ever said them out loud before.

‘I love you Father, even if you broke my bones holding me I never wanted you to put me down.’ he said pressing his face into his father’s shoulder, and let Ragnar feel the tears soak into the fabric of his tunic.

‘You do not have to blame me, I will even allow you to be foolish enough to forgive me, but son, I will never forgive myself for the way I treated you. You and your brothers are one of the very few things that keep me in Midgard, and I do not deserve the love and respect you all show me. I have wronged you all, in unforgivable ways.’

‘I have never heard you admit to being wrong.’ Ivar said around the lump that had formed in his throat as he at last got a hold of his emotions.

‘Do not get used to it, it will never happen again and I will deny it if you tell any other living thing.’ his father said, his voice once again becoming lighthearted.

Their emotional conversation had ended, and he knew that neither he nor his father would ever mention it again. Not to each other or to anyone else.

Not even the Princess would hear of this, he would keep this moment selfishly to himself for the rest of his life.

A comfortable silence fell over the two men and lasted until they were finally in the palace, where Ragnar placed his son down and placed the crutches down, sending them a distasteful glance.

Ivar looked over at the others and saw that they were still raving over the festivities and their eagerness for sleep and he looked back to his father.

‘I know I do not need them, father, but I do want them. I want to stand tall among other men, I'm tired of looking up at those I know are beneath me.’ he whispered as he pulled himself up on his crutches.

‘I will not use them forever, I will improve them…and myself.’ he promised.

Ragnar sighed and placed a sudden, unexpected kiss on Ivar’s temple and whispered into his ear in confidence.

‘You will be a man to be feared one day, Ivar the Boneless. Your broken body will never be able to contain your mind and violence.’

With those last words Ragnar went back to the group and he along with Aslaug retired to their chambers.

His brothers and the Tunisians all quickly followed suit, and gave quick and polite goodbyes before going their own ways as well.

‘Let us also retire. I am absolutely exhausted.’ (Y/N) said and indeed she looked like her will alone was keeping her upright.

‘Yes, I’m sure that kind of dancing used up all your energy.’ Ivar agreed and soon they began their journey to their newly shared chamber.

‘I enjoyed dancing to your heart beat. It beats in alignment with my own.’ she remarked as they entered.

Inside they were met with their respective servants who must have brought in their things before joining the feast, as all their things were now properly in place in the chamber.

To Ivar’s surprise and delight the princess sent them both away.

Occasionally on the journey the princess would feel very affectionate and would like to undress Ivar herself; it was another thing he came to rely on while they shared space on the ship.

He would always eagerly offer to undress her in return, she would graciously accept and they would lie in each other’s arms as they slept through the night.

Tonight, however, she was more slow in removing his tunic than she usually did and he could tell by the distanced look in her eye as her hands moved that her mind was not truly in this moment.

‘I will not be at your side when you wake my love.’ she said as she discarded the clothing.

‘How long will your hunt last?’

‘As long as it takes, after the hunt is complete I will be taken to the Skinner's hut to fashion the cloak alone. Every three days a hunting party will be sent after me, if I were to forfeit, they would escort me back safely. In which case I will have failed, and we would not have the blessing of the Great and Many.’

‘Then we would not marry.’ Ivar concluded.

A pregnant silence set in over the two of them as they undressed and remained even as they lay in each other's arms.

‘Can I make a request for my cloak?’ Ivar said at last.

‘Of course.’

‘Something warm. I will want to wear it often and the weather back home is not as nice as this.’ he said with a smile.

He hoped she understood what he was saying between his words; prayed she understood that he had confidence she would succeed and they would marry.

Ivar only needed to meet her watering eyes to know she did understand him, and more than anything else she needed his confidence in her.

‘I’ve trained since the day Sven left with his party, and I am even bold enough to call myself a warrior, but I have never hunted alone.’ she confessed.

‘I had never known true combat until our Matrimonial Fight.’ Ivar returned.

He was surprised that she looked so surprised.

‘Are you trying to console me?’ the princess accused.

‘I am being truthful. Sure on occasion my brothers include me in a bit of roughhousing, or I may even initiate a scuffle but they are never actually aiming to overtake me. Our fights are never true.’ Ivar replied.

‘I knew when I fought with you there would be no holding back on your part, you fought me as an equal and you hit where it hurt.’

The princess’s accusing eyes softened before she hid her face in his chest.

‘I did apologize. ‘ she yawned sleepily.

‘Nothing to forgive, I loved it. I loved fighting you, watching how skilled you are, seeing that look in your eyes as you look for a new place to aim. And if you hunt as well as you fight I imagine I won’t be waiting a full week.’ Ivar encouraged.

Ivar whispered soft assurances and praises until he heard her soft snores, and even still he kept silently praising her, hoping that his Gods would hear his love for her and give her protection.

As he himself finally fell into slumber he even hoped the Great and Many would watch over her as well.

When Ivar woke up he had known (Y/N) wouldn’t be there, but he was still disappointed by her absence.

A small pebble was suddenly thrown into the room, noisily hitting the floor.

‘I am awake, Trya.’ Ivar sighed as he sat up to see his thrall entering the princess’s chamber holding a Tunisian shield.

‘My Prince, did you not sleep well? Should I call for the healers?’ the woman asked, the concern for his legs showing on her face.

‘My legs are no worse than I can handle, and my sleep was sound.’ he assured her as she began to dress him.

‘You have gotten used to her being there.’ Trya realized, but immediately she went red with embarrassment at her impulsive speaking.

‘I’m sorry Prince Ivar.’ she said quickly.

‘No need to apologize when you are right, if anything I should apologize in advance for my bad mood while she is away.’

‘If I may say, I think she will return sooner than you think and with a noble animal fur just for you. In the meantime there is a beautiful village to explore and such wonderful people to meet.’ Trya offered.

Ivar knew the old woman was simply trying to cheer him up, and she was even right; but he found little comfort in her words as he left the room on his crutches.

Just as he began to wonder where he should go without (Y/N) to guide him through the unfamiliar palace, one of her servants, Kya, rounded a corner and approached him.

‘Meal before.’ she mumbled in broken Norse.

‘We are in your homeland, no need to speak a foreign language for my sake.’ he said in perfect Derja.

The girl let out a sigh of relief and began speaking in her mother language.

‘It is time for first meal, I will take you to the great hall .’ she said, her tone very confident and proper in her own dialect, before leading him through the labyrinth of halls.

Ivar was led into a large room where both royal families were sitting on the floor in a circle, all of them eating some type of bread and dipping it into something steaming hot from their bowls.

‘Ivar you must try this porridge, their spices are so flavorful.’ Hvitserk said as Ivar lowered himself down as gracefully as he could.

‘I must agree, we will definitely be trading a great deal of spices in the near future.’ Ragnar agreed, his own bowl nearly empty before Ivar had even received his portion.

The flavor of the porridge was very strong and delicious, and the bread was more grainy than the bread back home.

‘It is delicious.’ Ivar complimented as he ate with a bit more vigor.

After all, he had a long journey on the ship and had drank far too much at the feast.

‘I’m sure if my future daughter in law were here she would be flattered.’ Aslaug said, surprising everyone.

‘(Y/N) made this meal?’ Ivar asked, truly questioning how his mother knew this.

His mother sat aside her now empty bowl and looked at him in earnest, as she always had. As if she hadn’t ignored him from the moment he decided to sail here.

‘I was unable to sleep through your father’s snoring so I had a servant show me around the palace. The princess was in the kitchens, helping the cooks as they prepared her rations and first meal. We had a talk.’ the Norse Queen answered.

Ivar sent a look to his brothers, who looked equally as stunned, even his father had wide eyes.

Every word she just said went against everything they knew about their mother. Aslaug was often so drunk she could sleep through the harshest winter storm, she despised watching thralls work, and in all their lives they had never seen her set foot in any kitchen.

It hadn’t been a convenient coincidence, Ivar was certain his mother had snuck out of bed in the wee hours to speak to (Y/N) privately before her departure.

However, if anyone was waiting on Aslaug to explain her conversation with the princess, they were disappointed when she went back to her wine in silence.

‘Well then, what will you all like to do today?’ King Akashi asked the Norse royals.

‘We would like to walk through your markets. Your daughter tells us it was her most important duty as a child. The concept is both foreign and intriguing to all of us, plus we are eager to see in person the beautiful kingdom that raised our new princess.’ Ragnar replied.

‘Excellent, I shall give them a tour.’ Prince Ayo beamed as he stood excitedly.

‘Sit down.’ the queen said in a quiet but stern tone, the kind that came only from mothers and queens; and considering that she was both, her tone was truly powerful.

The child prince sighed in his defeat and sat back down on the floor.

‘You are not old enough yet my son, and you are not far enough along in your studies to walk the village and converse with the people. Until then you will spend your day with your tutors.’ the king said, seeing the upset on his son’s face.

‘I will send a servant to escort you through the markets, she will meet you at the castle gate.’

‘If I may.’ Ivar spoke up, politely asking to speak directly to the royal family, something (Y/N) had informed him was considered extremely polite.

The queen looked at him with a raised eyebrow before nodding her approval.

‘As my father has said, we are all eager to see your markets and kingdom today, but may I join the young prince with his tutors tomorrow?’

Now the queen was downright studying him, her gaze alone making the cripple straighten up his posture.

‘You wish to study here?’ she asked.

‘I have a great thirst for knowledge, like our All Father Odin, who traded his eye for it. It seems I already traded my legs at birth.’Ivar smiled charmingly, making a humorous face at the prince, who let out a small breath of laughter.

The queen smiled, seemingly against her better judgment.

‘Yes you may join the lessons tomorrow, I will have Bintu accompany you both to the library together tomorrow. She seems to want to get acquainted with you better.’ Queen Aza agreed.

‘Are you close with Bintu as well?’ Sigurd asked.

‘Of course, I personally chose Bintu to protect my daughter. She was my closest friend as a girl, had I ever chosen to propose a Matrimonial Fight she would be my instructor.’

‘I must say, while there are so many fascinating customs in your country, the one that fascinates me the most is your approach to your inferiors.’ Aslaug confessed.

‘No no no. I have no inferiors, my Queen Sister. I am Queen and I am the highest authority, but there isn’t one subject in all my kingdom that is inferior to me. Do you know how most commoners address queens in this country?’ the Tunisian Queen questioned.

When none of the Norse answered she smiled to herself.

‘Queen Mother; that is how I am addressed by every single one of my subjects. Queen to show me their respect, and Mother to show their love. Of course now the title is more than fitting.’ she explained, rubbing the roundness of her belly.

‘I may not know you well, Queen Sister, but I feel that the title was well earned. For I have never seen so many happy commoners, and I have certainly never met a young woman more amazing than your daughter. Truly you are Queen Mother, if I may, I’d like to accompany you today. I have been a Queen almost as long as I have been a Mother, but I am not blind to my shortcomings. I would like to learn from you, Queen Aza.’ Aslaug requested, her eyes never leaving the other woman’s.

At this Ragnar had to cover his mouth to silence his own gasp; Ivar was happy they were already sitting on the floor, had they been in chairs he is certain his brothers would have all fallen out of them in shock.

Years and years, all their lives, they all sat watching their mother drink away her affections and love for anyone other than Ivar. They had stopped expecting her love before they had even gotten their armrings. They never in their wildest dreams thought she cared enough to notice their disappointment in her as a mother.

Ivar looked over at his brothers and surely enough each of them had different expressions of shock.

Ubbe looked as if he simply couldn’t process what he’d heard, Hvitserk had dropped the grainy bread into his nearly empty bowl, Sigurd was wide eyed and his face was becoming red.

‘I would love your company, Queen Aslaug. In fact, I am quite done with first meal. I will await you in the throne room. I will send for Kya to accompany the rest of you through the markets.’ Aza said before holding out her hand to her husband.

King Akashi, who had been silently eating the last of his own meal while observing his guest, set aside his empty bowl and helped the queen rise to her feet.

The Tunisians bid their farewells, instructed a servant girl to give them a tour of the markets and departed.

As soon as the retreating footsteps could no longer be heard all eyes fell on Queen Aslaug, who had met their eyes confidently.

‘Do not look so stunned, have you not all wished for a better mother? A better woman to sit beside your great father on the throne? As I have no intention of losing my status, I must improve; at least that is the advice I was given.’ she said in Norse.

‘Why did you seek her out? You have been spiteful to all of us since the fight; you ignored us all nearly completely since she suggested sailing here.’ Ubbe asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

The hint of accusation was still noticed by his mother.

‘I had no ill intention, my son, I only meant to see her before she left for her hunt. A servant led me to the kitchens and there she was gathering her rations, we spoke and she left.’

‘What did you say to her?’ Ivar asked, not bothering to hide his suspicion.

‘She spoke to me, and I saw what about her you love. She is intelligent, wise and almost annoyingly well spoken. Though she hasn’t seen one of your fits yet, Ivar, I’m sure she will be able to control even your rage.’

The princes all looked between each other, wondering if the others believed a word of this; even Ragnar had been studying his wife to see if there were any visible signs of deception.

‘Mother, she is going on a hunt, alone, I don’t even know what kind of animals they have here. I need you to tell me with conviction that you did not upset her before she left to do something so dangerous.’ he was pleading with his mother.

Aslaug stood from the floor and looked around at her family.

‘I do not know why I sought her out, I don’t know what I wanted to say to her. I know what she said to me. That she can see the weeds of hate growing in all of your eyes when you look my way. That your frowns deepen when I speak to you directly no matter what I say…and now I can see how right she was.’ Aslaug said with a truly hurt expression painting her face.

‘You think I would be so spiteful to try and sabotage her hunt Ivar? Even you? It seems I have been far worse a mother than I thought.’ she said, her voice beginning to shake as her eyes misted.

Before Ivar had a chance to let the guilt take hold of his heart fully his mother had turned and left the rest of them to their now unappealing bowls of porridge.

The room was quiet, everyone needed to digest more than the food; Aslaug’s words had left a bitter taste in their mouths.

‘Do you believe her?’ Hvitserk asked.

‘Of course not, she has been wretched since she birthed us, that doesn’t change after one talk.’ Sigurd dismissed with irritation.

‘She seemed upset, maybe she does regret the way she raised us.’ Ubbe said in her defense.

‘How could you think so, Ubbe? What raising did we get from her? It was while she was meant to be raising us that you and Hvitserk fell through ice and nearly died. In her “care” Bjorn lost his first daughter! The only time the truth comes out of her mouth is when she knows it will hurt.’ Sigurd spat angrily.

‘She is your mother, Sigurd. You owe her your life and respect.’ Ragnar said, a hint of a warning in his tone.

The circle was tense now, despite the fragility of their marriage Aslaug was still Ragnar’s wife and not many Viking men allow their wives to be insulted in their presence.

‘I had no say in who my mother was Father, did I? Even still you are right, I owe her respect…just as she owes us her love, but unfortunately for her I no longer want it.’ Sigurd replied just as stubborn as he had been as a child as he stood up.

‘I will wait at the gate for the escort.’ he said formally before leaving.

Ivar watched Sigurd in a mixture of annoyance and understanding, no one could deny that Sigurd had been the most hurt by Aslaug’s neglect growing up. He was always the one to interrupt their chess games to ask if they could have a walk all together, and he was always turned away.

‘I know your mother was…is a hard woman to understand and that it was hard growing up when I would sail away, but I know her. For better or worse I can read that woman’s heart like fresh carved runes, and I think she is being genuine. Now if you excuse me, I believe I need to have a private conversation with my son.’ Ragnar sighed tiredly before he followed Sigurd.

‘What do you think, Ivar?’ Ubbe asked his youngest brother.

‘I think…my betrothed did speak with her, and I think the conversation went more or less the same way she says it does. What I don’t know is if she is accepting that conversation as a friendly warning or a threat.’

‘You think she would sabotage (Y/N)’s hunt?’ Hvitserk asked in shock.

‘At first I will admit I did think her capable of it, but in my heart I know that isn’t like her. I know I should have no say in it seeing how she doted on me, but she has never gone out of her way to hurt any one of us. I don’t think she ever would.’ Ivar answered honestly.

‘He is right, Mother never cared enough to be cruel to us, sure she poured love onto Ivar, but Ivar is going to marry. Who will be there for her to pour on to? Ragnar?’ Ubbe said strategically, as if he were discussing a battle in a war room, not his own mother.

‘So she wants our love now that Ivar has his own woman.’ Hvitserk realized.

The room fell into one last long silence before Hvitserk noisily slurped down the very last of porridge in his bowl and stood up.

‘Well,I’m flattered to finally be worth her affections, however, what she does will have no true effect on me, but I will not discourage her efforts.’ The middle son declared before he too left.

‘What about you Ubbe? Do you still long for Mother’s love?’ Ivar asked.

‘You know, I remember the day we fell through the ice.’ Ubbe said, surprising Ivar.

Neither Ubbe or Hvitserk ever spoke about that terrible day, no matter how strategically he and Sigurd asked about it growing up; and they had asked quite often back then.

‘We had followed mother and Harbard, because why not, it was too cold for fishing obviously and we were too young to hunt back then. They went into a hut and we went to get a closer look but there was a noise…a calling so inviting and pleasant it carried us away.’

Ivar didn’t want to reply and pull his brother out of his sharing mood so he just listened and let Ubbe speak freely. He had never seen his eldest brother look so lost in his own mind while talking before, it seemed as if he was doing more than remembering. He was there all over again, a small boy out exploring with his brother on a winter's day.

‘It promised such fun and we were so excited we didn’t realize how far we had walked, but we did notice when the snowy grass became ice beneath our feet, but the call assured us and on we walked further out on the ice. Siggy, do you remember her?’ Ubbe asked.

‘Of course, Rollo’s wife.’ Ivar provided.

‘She was a kind woman to us, mother often left us in her care and she had seen us on the lake, she tried to call out for us but what was her small far away voice to a call only we could hear? A call that must have been from the Gods? She chased after us but it was too late, the ice cracked and the call stopped as soon as we fell into the freezing water.’

Ubbe seemed to not even see Ivar sitting across from him anymore, he was lost in the memory of coldness.

‘The water was so much colder than the ice had been, or at least that’s how it felt, cold all over my body, cold water in the lungs. In that cold do you know what I thought, Ivar?’

Ivar shook his head no, and waited eagerly for the answer.

‘I want my mother.’ Ubbe said softly, leaning in closer, as if this was his most precious secret.

‘I wanted to feel the warmth of her embrace and for her to whisper soothing words into my ear to assure me I would not be forced out of Midgard so soon. I even thought maybe she’d heard my silent cries and rescued us, but it was only Siggy pulling us out of the ice. Harbard was there, and she managed to give us to him before her own life was taken by that cold water. After Harbard had brought us to Mother she asked him to heal us and once he had she sent us off to bed for rest…without ever touching us.’

Ivar, who of course saw that his mother showed him more love than his brothers, was stunned by just how cold the woman had truly been to her other children.

As Ivar chewed over his rapid change in family dynamics his bride to be was walking vast dry hunting grounds.

She was brought some comfort in the fact she wasn’t in completely new territory. She had gone on at least a dozen hunts in this area. Of course those hunts had been with full hunting parties of at least ten.

Hunting in large groups was a common practice throughout the world because the simple fact was that there is power in numbers. More hunters mean more game can be caught, and the hunters had a stronger sense of security knowing that there would be more people able to watch their blind spots in case of predator attacks.

More than that, for (Y/N) at least, hunting in a group simply made the experience of hunting much more pleasant. She remembers talking with the others as they walked for hours to the waterhole where most game favored to drink and bathe.

Now she was alone and could not afford any such pleasantries. She had to keep her ears and eyes sharp, there was no one there to assist her in spotting anything that may be lying in wait.

Another benefit of hunting parties, she had come to understand quickly, was that it entailed more provisions. She had a large canteen of water that weighed heavily on her hip, but she knew it would be all she had until she reached the water hole.

And that was a half day’s journey and as heavy as it felt the canteen only had so much water inside. So she ignored the dryness of her mouth, resigned not to drink until the sun was fully in the sky.

Along with her water canteen she had a variety of tools and rope to make shelter, her father’s blade, an ax, twenty ready made arrows to go with the bow she carried by hand and a fortnight's worth of food in the pack she had on her back. One fortnight’s worth of food.

One fortnight worth of food.

One fortnight, that is two weeks.

Two weeks is fourteen days.

She repeated these things mentally every mile or so, she was determined to keep track of the time. If she allowed herself to lose her senses she could find herself out here alone with nothing to eat, no water and no choice but to wait for the rescue party.

No. Even if it did come to that she would refuse to return, and that would mean staying not only to hunt for a beast but also hunting to survive.

The thought of scavenging for berries in the dry lands was almost as discouraging as the thought of wasting arrows on smaller prey before finding her true target.

Whatever that target may be; she thought guiltily.

She had promised Ivar a grand cloak worthy of his Gods but she had no idea what that even meant yet alone what animal she would hunt. Luckily the water hole would be sure to have a variety of beasts to choose from.

After what she guessed had been four hours the sun was finally shining at its highest point in the sky. She took the canteen from her side and took a singular large swallow of cool water before closing it off again, but she held the container to her forehead to feel the coolness of the water inside.

It had to be at least noon now, that meant about six more hours until she was at the water hole, but that would mean arriving at by nightfall and that wasn’t wise. She would have to stop and make her shelter for the night.

A large cluster of boulders and a tiny cluster of palm oil trees in the distance told her she had in fact remembered the path from her previous hunts.

The rocks were where her hunting party usually sought shelter. The formation of the boulders created a sort of rocky valley and with wood and leaves from the trees a roof and walls can be fashioned.

(Y/N) took special care in looking around for any signs of a predator before she removed her pack and dug out some dried biltong and a piece of plantain bread.

She kept alert as she ate quickly, wanting to make sure she didn’t stay here long enough to be found by any thing, but she also wanted to savor the chewiness of the antelope meat, and the bread was so filling on her empty stomach it felt as warm as an embrace.

Once the last of the bread had been eaten (Y/N) picked up her pack again and continued on, still chewing the last bite of biltong, trying to extend the longevity of its flavor and the mere illusion of eating. After she had finally resigned to swallow the over chewed meat she again took a single drink from her canteen, this time only a sip as it was less about true thirst and more a desire to wash down her brief meal.

The further she walked the more she thought over her plans for when she reached the boulders.

First she would find the best spot in between the rocks that required the least amount of material to fortify. Then she would go and gather the wood and palm leaves to make the roofing and walls, after that she would go again to the trees for firewood to keep her warm once night fell.

She tried not to get too comfortable or confident but so far she was pleased with her progress. She had yet to come across so much as an antelope so far and if there were no prey animals near her that meant the chances of predators were much lower.

Of course that also meant if she did encounter a hungry meat eater it would probably be extremely eager to eat the first thing it found.

With that in mind she kept her grip firm on her bow as she pushed on.

It was when she was only about an hour away from her destination that she heard a rustling in the grass behind her that was too isolated and sudden to have been wind.

With an alarming quickness she pulled an arrow from her pack and raised her bow, aiming at the direction of the noise.

It was quiet again, but she was certain she’d heard something and she wasn’t going to turn around or move on until she found and killed whatever had made that sound.

She focused her gaze and scanned through the tall yellow grass for anything out of place. She kept a special look out for spots and stripes; this was big cat territory.

A final second of quiet passed before finally the grass rustled again, and this time she had seen exactly where the grass moved.

Without hesitation she released the arrow and several things seemed to happen all at once to her.

Of course things had happened one at a time, and they happened in this exact order.

First; the arrow flew like lightning into the tall grass, second; a loud pitiful roar cut through the air, and thirdly a lion had leapt out of its hiding place.

With no small amount of fear and an even larger amount of alarm the princess readied another arrow and began back stepping, she knew better than to turn her back to this beast.

Now that it was out of the tallest grass she could see it was a truly pathetic thing. Its mane was shaggy and matted, several scabby bald patches that had been licked raw from over grooming littered his back legs and it was so unsightly thin even in her panic she could see its protruding rib cage.

Her arrow stuck out of its left front leg in a vulgar way as it tried weakly to chase her down, but already her fear was subsiding.

Even as she backed away to put distance between her and the lion so that she could have a clear clean shot, (Y/N) could see that the arrow wasn’t the only thing slowing down her attacker.

Yes it limped on its injured front leg, but it made a huffing whimpering noise every time his right hind leg hit the ground. Clearly something had tussled with this frail thing before she had and it seemed that unknown creature had done her a great kindness.

Once she was confident in the distance between them she released the second arrow and watched it land true as it sunk into the lion's skull and the weak body fell into the dirt with a soft thud.

A final breath escaped its mouth and sent up a small cloud in the dry dirt it now laid lifelessly upon.

With the beast taken down she found herself breathing hard, her adrenaline still racing as she approached it.

Up close she could better inspect it to see if this had been it, if this could be THE beast.

However, no amount of optimism could allow her to overlook the matted shabby dark mane, the many bald patches she could see in the lion’s coat or the clearly visible bites they exposed.

No, this wouldn’t even be worth skinning, not for her husband's cloak, but still leaving it here was not an option, it would attract scavengers and most of those were pack animals. So she took out her ax and made quick work of dismembering the lion and then did her best to wrap the remains in the blanket she intended to sleep under.

It was too heavy to lift alone so she attached the sack to a rope and dragged it the rest of the way to the boulders. By the time she had reached her destination her legs and arms were more sore than they had ever been in all her years of training, but she didn't stop to rest.

Just as she had planned she found a small rectangular spot that was perfectly spaced between two boulders that stood twice as high as she did. There she sat the lion sack before she went to fetch the wood and palm leaves. The sun would be setting soon and she would not be out in the open with a fresh kill at her side when it happened.

She chopped and dragged long branches for one hour, then she fashioned two walls about one foot taller than herself using rope to tie the branches together, tying the leaves together to keep out the wind. She installed her walls by burying the branches in the dirt making sure they were firmly planted. The roof was easier to make since she had to leave a spot open for smoke to escape.

Finally, just as she had tied the last bit of rope securing the roof to the walls the sun was beginning to set. She made her final trip to the grove of trees for firewood and quickly returned to her newly built shelter.

Her fire was burning strong as the sun set, but she did not lay down, she sat beside the fire watching the flames as she thought one thing over and over.

What beast was worthy of Ivar the Boneless?

[diejager]

if you’re still writing for the monster 141, what about a bay hybrid reader, who is just on the edges on going into hibernation because the base is in a colder area/remote snowy location

I’m gonna assume you mean bear?

Cw: bear hybrid!readr, hibernation, binge eating, hoarding, tell me if I missed any.

Winter was creeping closer and closer by each day, your instinctual need to sleep away the cold calling to you louder than the prior days. There was a bone-deep exhaustion that clung to you, the heaviness that cold weather brought to you was a constant and nagging feeling that urged you deeper in the nest you’d built yourself in your dark room. Your curtains drawn, lights often closed and locks installed, you’d spent the weeks preparing, hoarding soft pillows, thick blankets and clothes from people you were familiar with. 

They were surprised when you brought it up, blinking tiredly and occasionally yawning in the afternoon, stumbling between everyone’s rooms with a small plea on the tip of your tongue. You took whatever they were willing to give you: a blanket from Price and Rudolfo, a shirt from König and Gaz, a jacket from Ghost and Horangi, and a pillow from Soap and Alejandro. As long as it smelled like them, a lingering reminder that you weren’t alone in your humid room, their musk grounding and safety. You wouldn’t be alone.

Price had known you were - like most bears - prone to hibernation, taking between one to three month of your year sleeping away the cold, sinking into your mountain of fabric and sleeping off the coldest months. Your time depended on the year, the warmer it was, the less you slept, and the colder it was, the longer you slept. It might’ve been a bother in people’s eyes - humans - but it was instinctual, a primal part of your brain that still clung to your ancestors who strayed from the path of being normal bears. You couldn’t ignore the pull, the call to sleep, it wasn’t possible for a bear like you, and you were fortunate to have such accommodating teammates.

You grew hungrier, your stomach becoming an endless pit, an abyss that kept taking dish after dish, stocking up in fat and calories that you’d burn during your sleep, keeping you sustained and alive without having to wake up. You ate whatever you that was within your reach, the cold bread, the warm milk, the leftover of two days ago or Soap’s surprisingly good cooking, nothing was safe when you were a big and grumpy and hungry bear near hibernation. Ever supportive and helpful, Soap and Alejandro would jump in to cook for you, hooking Gaz and Rudolfo into being their sous-chef whenever they were free. It was the delicious scent of home cooked and warm meals that brought you to the kitchen, if it wasn’t a call for fixing up someone, it was the smell of good food. 

You were ravenous, gulping down the many, many plates the duo - occasionally quartet - placed on the table, their chests puffed up pridefully at your quick eating, you were practically breathing them in. Your constant eating helped you pack some weight, your skin stretched to accommodate your growing amount of fat that would ultimately burn over the months. And when the day came, you were low on energy, grumpy and easy to anger, your patience running paper thin, bidding your goodbyes and see you soon, wrapping your arms around them and teasing them about missing you during your lockdown. 

You’d sleep through the cold winter months and wake up to a warmer and busier time, to a welcoming and excited team that had spent the better half of winter waiting impatiently for the TF’s medic to wake up.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[pastelprince18]

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗 /POS

YES I WOULD LOVE TO READ THE 60 PAGE DOC!! AND TWO….

I AGREE HIS BROTHER ISNT BAD…I know with shows with gods they make the stronger cooler god this jock asshole but I feel perfectus is really nice and felt awful how his family told him to leave

As they battle in the BG he tries everything he can to wake his brother back calling his name telling him he does matter ECT <:] he loves him dearly

HI SO RANDOM!! I saw you wanted to bring augie up for the au :3 I would love to hear your take if that’s okay with ya! /pos

BOY HOWDY-!

So as my good friend @monsterbride99 has mentioned some time ago, the Darkmess would pretty much crank all of Augie's negative emotions(anxiety, depression and anger) into high gear, whipping up a storm even worse than the one the Darkmess Tentacle conjured up

I always saw Perfectus(Augie's brother) maybe coming in to interfere(btw if you want a link to this, 60 page google doc me and Bride are doing about Augie and all these other Rabbid Gods, I can totally hook you up-) and at least helping the heroes with getting rid of all the Darkmess(It'd be like a "destroy Darkmess something" stage with Perfectus and Augie fighting in the background)

And once that's over(and because I wanna believe Perfectus isn't as bad as some people think) Perfectus hugs his brother, releasing him of Cursa's control, and we actually get two gods in on the resistance ^v^

[karlachismylife]

The Queen of the Clan Masterlist

When you decide to shake up your life a bit and partake in a trip with a documentary crew, you have no idea that meeting an unnaturally friendly hyena and have it mark your backpack would be only the beginning of weird things to come. Whatever will you do when a leaderless clan of four male hyenas chooses you as their matriarch?

CW: hyena shapeshifters 141 au, fem!reader, written with chubby!reader in mind. Will be adding tags as the story progresses.

Part 1: Spotted Your first big animal encounter goes a little bit wrong. Or does it?

Part 1.5: [redacted] Johnny tells the rest.

Part 2: Tough Spot While trying to get over your things being ruined and get back to work, you find a new human friend. And four non-human ones. Which can save your life though?

Part 3: Blind Spot A respectful ghostly guest guards you through an important mission to pee in the middle of the night.

Part 3.5: [redacted] Simon comes back to the den.

Part 4: A Spot of Lunch You forget about your weird feeling for a moment, when two playful furry babies come visit and bring a gift.

Part 5: Spot on the Mark You have an unexpected visitor on a night stakeout.

Part 6: Local Spot A short procedural delay sends you back to your temporary home at the sanctuary, and a friend shows you around.

Part 6.5: [redacted] Coming soon.

Singular spin-offs/AUs to the AU

Hyena Cerberus!Ghost headcanons

It's a Trap!

Tale of Four Danaës Coming soon.

Taglist: @elaineiswithyou-blog @creepingeva @my-halo-is-a-little-broken @sillymanjaro @ihatethinkingofnames10 @ravensfeatheruniverse @yaminax @ljh861 @darkangel4121 @ginger-n-coco @grey-shadow6475 @cryingpages @mothsdrabbles @mc-glare-is-king @vixxie22 @aldis-nuts @terraantarctica @henhouse-horrors @blizzivy @perfectus-in-morte @danielle143 @llavalada @yukichan67 @sleepisfortheweakpooh @ilxina @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @misscaller06 @etherealinthewoods @svnh6021 @pleasedontaskme @shadowentity6 @everything-is-awesomesauce

If you want to be tagged in each part of the series, comment under this post! Keep in mind that this series will contain NSFW moments, so minors and ageless blogs DNI!

All headers and dividers used in the series by @saradika-graphics

[yawnderu]

Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part III

Spoilers for MW3 ahead.

1 2 3 4 5 6

Short chapter to keep the writing inspiration going, next one will be longer.<3

''Si?'' You ask softly as you see the brooding figure on the doorframe. He's standing so still you would think it's a cardboard cutout, though the way his chest moves up and down gives him away. He doesn't say anything, simply walks up to you slowly, footsteps oddly quiet for someone his size.

You do nothing but sit up in bed slowly, looking at the familiar figure crouch down next to your bed, the black balaclava still on. You barely manage to see his eyes before he looks down, though you can recognize that haunted look in his eyes easily.

''What happened?'' You ask softly, hand on the back of his masked head as he rests his head on your lap. You see him take a few deep breaths, trying to hold himself together.

''Johnny's gone.'' Is all he can manage to say, voice raspy and weak. You've seen Simon lose comrades throughout the years, but Soap was a brother to him. He was the closest thing to Tommy he ever had, and losing a brother again felt like having his heart ripped out a second time. You hold him closer, hands applying light pressure on his back and he gets the message, climbing in bed with you. It's dark— you can't even see anything other than his outline, but you can feel him.

''I'm sorry, Simon.'' He stays quiet, simply allowing you to hold him close, his masked face seeking shelter on your warm chest, your hand running up and down his back while you console him. He removes his mask, knowing he never has to cover up around you, the feeling of the warm skin of your chest on his face slowly grounding him. You rock him gently, planting a soft kiss on his short hair,

''I'm here.'' He nods weakly, arms wrapping around your waist as he holds you as close to him as possible, fitting so perfectly like a missing puzzle piece. Despite the heartbreak from when he left, your pride is put aside to care for him, holding him in the same motherly way you held your baby when she was born.

''I'm sorry.'' He doesn't have to specify; you know what he's talking about.

''It's okay.'' You both know it's far from okay, but you push it to the back of your mind, for now.

''She awake?'' You shake your head, mumbling a small ''mm-mm'' in reply. He nods, arms wrapping tighter around you. The last thing he wanted was to wake up his little girl, always making sure he was being quiet as Ghost, despite being Simon as soon as he stepped into your house.

After years of knowing Simon— yes, Simon Riley, before he became Ghost, you know better than to ask what happened or press for details. You were there when he lost his family, watching him become Ghost, and you supported him along the way. This isn't any different. The night is spent with both of you holding each other, limbs intertwined. You don't even notice when you start drifting off, head slowly leaning back to the side and eyes growing heavier, though you don't fight it, the mass on top of you heavy and warm enough to feel like a second blanket.

''Hey, big guy.'' You greet tiredly, fingers running through his short blond hair as he looks up at you. The whites of his eyes are now red, veins painfully visible, and it's just a confirmation that he didn't sleep at all, simply focusing on watching you in your sleep and being too into his own head.

''Let me take care of you. I'll be here till you're right, Simon.''

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taglist: @skulfan1 @survivalshxt @ghostslittlegf @yaebaal @thecubanator2 @juliediets @shescabob @kenz-ee @lothiriel9 @dragonstoneshortcake @lunamoonbby @alfie2401 @perfectus-in-morte @mxtokko

[vidavalor]

Word Lady? I'm stressing about DT saying Crowley's ending is perfect. He wouldn't say it was a good ending. Any thoughts?

Hi there. 💕 Sea salt caramel? *slides box over*

I wouldn't lose a wink of sleep over it. He is contractually obligated to not give away the ending so he couldn't tell us directly what it is, even if he wanted to, and we wouldn't really want him to or it wouldn't be any fun. He managed to get around it enough to say it's perfect for Crowley so it doesn't sound like there's a lot to worry about there. It will have a good ending or else they'd have had to call it Meh Omens.

Whether DT meant it this way or not, perfect is actually a very Good Omens-y way to describe the end of a story, actually, because completion is actually what perfect truly means. What he actually said, etymologically-speaking, is "the ending for Crowley is very ending-y!" 😂

Might as well do the use of perfect in the show as well while we're here and since you did call me Word Lady, which is cracking me up...

The concept of perfect meaning flawless and ideal is from the sense of not lacking in any way, from where it connects to the Old French parfit, which was also spelled the way it is now in French: parfait... and, yes, the breakfast/dessert comes from that word. 😊

Perfect, from the Latin per meaning through; completed and facere, meaning to do. Evolved into the Latin perfectus, meaning completed. To perfect something is to finish it; to bring it to such a state of completion as to have not left anything wanting.

Sounds like a great ending for Crowley and Aziraphale. They do so love bringing things to perfect endings.

Don't worry. He does. 😉 They've endless literal and figurative strawberry cream parfaits in their future.

[pixies-and-poets]

NgnahaaNnnnOooooooooOOOOOO

When I realized who this was and where this was going... 😭😭😭

(....great work 👍)

The Deed is Done

He stood there, looking over the bodies. Many had been corrupted- no, changed by the Darkmess.

It was already beginning to form puddles around the biggest body of all. The golden hair, the youthful face, the muscular chest slightly rising and falling with each breath-

...Wait.

How was that tormentor of his still alive?

He felt himself begin to tremble. The reason unknown even to him. Perhaps it was a fear of failure. Or perhaps...

Perhaps it was regret for what he was about to do to his brother?

No. Cursa had told him, when he had gotten his Darkmess makeover, that he wouldn't have to worry about his family anymore. They'd be gone from his life. No more torment. No more torture.

No more seeking approval from them.

They would never give that anyway.

He walked over to his brother's side, raised his blade over his brother's chest, ready to plunge it through his heart.

"B...brother...?"

The voice gave him pause. His brother opened his eyes, managed to turn his head towards him.

For just a moment, he hesitated.

Then, Cursa's order came into his head.

"Do it."

And so, he did.

...

He stood there, alone now.

Lord Augie had claimed his victory over his brother Perfectus, and his revenge. And he wasn't letting anyone hurt him ever again.

[aphroditelovesu]

Beloved (Y/N),

It's been a long time since we've seen each other in person and I'm sorry about that. Hogwarts has kept me very busy, magic is a lot of fun but it can also be tricky and the most painful part is our distance. I believe all is going well in London, isn't? Your parents are good? Are you good?

I miss you so much that I cannot express it in words, it hurts me so much every time I think about you and I'm always thinking about you. Tell me, my love, what can I do to ease this pain? The pain that settles in my heart every time we are far apart.

I cannot wait to finish my studies at Hogwarts to be back in your warm and welcoming arms, I cannot wait for us to get married. Make you my spouse. Now that would be a dream come true, waking up every day by your side would be more than magical. It would be perfectus.

I hope this letter brings you some comfort, as writing it has certainly brought me peace and comfort. It's not the same as holding you, but it's enough while we're away. Don't worry, it's not a magical letter, or is it? Haha, you'll have to find out.

Be patient, my love, because I promise that very soon we will be together again.

Forever yours,

Sirius Black.

[raleighcarreras]

perfectus

Part 2: the city broke my heart

Pairing(s): wanda maximoff x black!fem!reader

Rating: M (language)

Wrd Cnt: 1k

Warning(s): none

Part(s): 1

Notes: The song is HAZE by 5SOS, someone asked to be tagged and I probably should have responded directly to them, but just letting you guys know, I don't do tag lists because I find them a bit clunky. Sorry about that!

Got me feelin' alright when the feeling's all gone. Got me feelin' uptight every moment you're gone. Got a piece of your mind and I'm gonna hold on. It's a hell of a ride...lovin' you.

Wanda's eyes rolled at the sound of your phone dinging with another Tinder, Hinge, and/or, Bumble notification.

She of course agreed to help you out on this frivolous journey, but that didn't mean she had to pretend to enjoy every second of it.

Especially, when you guys were supposed to be having your once a week roomie time.

You had only made those profiles 2 hours beforehand and you already had like 40 matches on each app.

Wanda knew you were desirable, she had told you as much, but damn, there was not a doubt in her head that this wouldn't make your ego borderline unbearable.

With your head in her lap, Wanda could feel you staring up at her to see if she had noticed the dinging as well.

The two of you were supposed to be paying attention to the cheesy little Christmas movie Under The Christmas Tree that Wanda had found on Hulu.

Instead, you were watching each other.

"Wan-"

She paused the movie, "Check your phone."

You shrieked in happiness and scrambled for your phone that was seconds away from buzzing right off the table.

You sat up so the both of you had a good view of your phone screen.

"Loser."

"What!? You haven't even read his bio yet, Wanda."

Wanda shrugged, "I don't need to, I can see his face. And his face says 'Hello, I am a loser and my bio will only prove that fact'."

You grumbled something unintelligible. Peaking at his bio, did only enhance the fact that he was indeed a loser, but Wanda didn't need to know that.

You tried to reject his like as subtly as possible. But, Wanda, ever vigilant, snickered under her breath.

"Told you."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, how about her? She's hot, and we have a lot in common."

Wanda eyed the profile with scrutiny, "Uh-Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"She looks like me."

You frowned and eyed the various pictures of the woman, "...No, she doesn't."

"Yes she does. Wait a minute. That is me!" Wanda grabbed the phone from your hand with a horrified huff.

"I've never seen these pictures of you before." You said slightly concerned.

"That's because they're from when I still lived in Sokovia...PIETRO!"

You grabbed your phone from her when she went to pick her own up. Undoubtedly, about to make a very heated phone call to her twin brother.

You squinted at the pictures again, sneakily saving a couple, "You should dye your head red again."

Wanda seemed to barely hear you as she angrily waited for Pietro to answer the phone.

When he did, Wanda immediately started speaking in Sokovian. You could hear him howling with laughter through the receiver.

"Why are you catfishing people as me, you little shit?"

Pietro hummed, "I'm not catfishing people as you, I was catfishing Y/N as you. She is not random people, she is our Y/N. There's a difference."

Wanda rolled her eyes, you only shrugged with a smile, starting to see the humor in the situation as well.

"This isn't funny."

"It is sorta funny, Wands."

"No, it isn't."

Wanda could practically hear Pietro's smirk through the phone when he spoke, "Yes, it is, Wands.

"You two are insufferable."

"I wasn't going to start an entire relationship like on that show. Once we matched I was just going to say 'it is me your best friend Pietro and my sister lik-'" Wanda hung up the phone, her cheeks tinged pink.

"Ha. Such a jokester, that one..."

"He just likes the attention. You know that."

Wanda only nodded along absentmindedly.

You continued to scroll and swipe on your phone.

Eventually, you put the phone down and gestured for Wanda to unpause the movie.

"When's your next shift at the bar?" You asked suddenly.

Wanda smiled, "I own the place. I don't have shifts."

"Well, when are you going in?"

"Hmm, probably around 7 tomorrow night. Why do you ask?"

"No, reason. I was just wondering."

Wanda didn't believe you, but didn't say anything otherwise. If only because the movie was starting to get exceptionally corny and good.

Wanda found out why you. asked her schedule at exactly 7 pm the next evening.

You walked in, taking your coveted spot at the bar counter. Though, you were dressed far less casually then you were when you normally came in.

"What are you doing here?" Wanda asked, sliding you your go to vodka cranberry as if it was second nature.

Then, a hand placed itself softly on your shoulder, "Are you Y/N?"

Why would you touch someone without being sure of who they were first? Wanda followed the offending appendage all the way up to its owner's smug face. She knew that stupid, dumb face anywhere.

"Maria Hill." Wanda muttered with as much disdain as she could muster under her breath.

You stood, with a friendly smile, "That's me. Nice to meet you, Maria."

Maria leaned in for a hug.

Wanda's eye twitched. Maria was going to be charged extra for all of your drinks now.

You expertly dodged it with a handshake instead.

Wanda smiled. Your drinks were free again like they always were.

Maria ordered then excused herself to the restroom breifly.

You and Wanda both turned to each other in unison.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a date here?"

You bit your lip. Wanda wanted that to stop immediately.

"Because I knew you would say 'No' and I need your help to gauge if she's normal or not. You said yourself I tend to pick losers."

Wanda very much regretted saying that.

"She's not normal. I hate her."

You frowned in palpable disappointment, "Why?"

Wanda didn't have a very good answer. Or at least not one that she was ready to give away yet. Part of the reason she disliked Maria was because the woman was sort of like her business rival of sorts.

Maria owned the flower shop across the street and because the both of their establishment's names started with the same letter it meant they often fought for space at the local flea market where Wanda gave away samples.

Maria always got the better, bigger space. And it was mostly because Wanda couldn't wake up earlier than 8am no matter how hard she tried. But that was beside the point.

The other part of the reason Wanda hated Maria was because Maria apparently liked you.

Wanda gaped a few more seconds before answering, "Because um she owns a flower shop and she didn't bring you any flowers."

"Oh." You said quietly. You had noticed that too, "But it's just drinks. Barely a first date or anything."

Wanda shook her head, "You deserve flowers no matter the occasion."

"Thank you, Wanda." You said softly. A slight heat to your cheeks, that wasn't really noticeable.

Maria sat back down next to you, "Sorry about that. I came straight from the shop and wanted to make sure there weren't any thorns hiding anywhere."

"I understand."

Wanda handed Maria her drink. The most expensive bottle of scotch Wanda owned. Not only did she wake up at ungodly hours of the morning, she was also...rich...or something. And she had a stupid face!

Wanda moved to the other side of the bar so she didn't have to deal with that. Checking occasionally to make sure you didn't need saving.

After what felt like hours, Maria finally vacated the premises and you stayed in your seat. Scrolling through your phone.

"How'd it go?"

You shrugged, "Alright, I guess. But I couldn't stop thinking about what you said."

Wanda grimaced, "I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's okay, you were right. She talked about herself the whole time. And she didn't get all the dirt from under he nails. She also said your scotch was bad."

Wanda gasped, "That bitch!"

You laughed loudly, "Yeah, safe to say I will not be seeing her again."

Wanda resisted the urge to celebrate.

"So, does that mean you're done with this whole scheme then?"

You looked and Wanda and laughed again, "After one bad date? Of course not. I've already got another one for tomorrow."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, see you here again tommorow, Hot Stuff."

Wanda could only stand there with her mouth agape.

She was starting to think that Natasha and Sam were right.

[randomrabbidramblings]

Had an illumination. Perfectus radiates Himbo™ energy.

Having a single braincell runs in the family I suppose. Or his and Augie's parents only had two to give to their child, but they got surprise twins.

[panikea]

Kiedy ostatnio z kimś rozmawiałeś? Nie przez MSG na Fejsie. Nie, przez telefon też się nie liczy. Nie służbowo. Pamiętasz „Autobiografię” Perfectu? Taki zespół seniorów, co to ludzie przychodzą na koncerty niby żeby posłuchać, a w rzeczywistości obserwują, który z członków wykituje na scenie. Perfect śpiewał: Alpagi łyk. I dyskusje po świt.  Taką rozmowę mam na myśli. Chodzi mi o taką rozmowę gdzie gadasz, a tu nagle pojawia się świt. Chodzi mi o taką rozmowę, gdzie jesteś ciekaw tej drugiej osoby.  Chodzi mi o rozmowę, gdzie nie boisz się pokazać swoich poglądów. Gdzie nie boisz się odsłonić.  Chodzi mi o taką rozmową z przyjaciółką, gdzie jest pierwszy ciepły wieczór tego roku, zaczynacie od męża, który dostał wolne na jazdę czołgiem, leci wino, a wy zaczynacie od paznokci, przez facetów, kreację, do problemów dziadków w czasie II wojny światowej.  A na koniec jest trzecia rano i okazuje się, ��e zeszły cztery wina. Chodzi mi o taką rozmowę z facetem albo z kobiet��, gdzie nie mówisz “Pracuję tu i tu, za pięć lat widzę się tu i tu, lubię makaron i buraki.” Gdzie mówisz za czym tęsknisz. Czego się boisz. Jakie masz plany. I nie boisz się, że ktoś cię wyśmieje.  Chodzi mi o taką rozmowę, która coś nowego wnosi do życia. Dawno, prawda? Mamy smartfony, komputery, okulary łączące się z internetem, samochody, połączone z siecią 24/7, a jednak rozmawiamy coraz mniej. Mamy wygodne mieszkania, pełne lodówki, Netfliksa z serialami, Spotify z muzyką a jesteśmy mniej szczęśliwi niż wtedy kiedy będąc młodym siedzieliśmy przy ognisku z browarem i gadaliśmy, żrąc tanią kiełbasę i pieczone ziemniaki. Wszyscy słuchali się wzajemnie. Teraz nikt nikogo nie słucha, każdy chce się wypowiadać. Kiedyś można było kogoś przekonać dobrą argumentacją. Teraz nawet jak ktoś rozmawia, to nie po to, aby kogokolwiek przekonać. Bo obie strony z góry uważają, że ta druga osoba jest głupia, a skoro jest głupia to wiadomo, że nie ma racji.  - Piotr C. pokolenieikea.com

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The One He Chose

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Summary: After all this time has Ivar finally caught his wife's trail?

Taglist: @ubbesgirl, @shewolf2000, @tis-itheapplepie, @atequila, @demoncrypt1066, @greennightspider, @badbitsh13, @fireismysaftey, @minarawr, @laketaj24, @hvitserksgirl, @blahblahcookiesdoma, @fabulous-peasent, @sforsammmmmi, @minmiin1d, @courtrae89, @letsloveimagines, @tomarisela, @titty-teetee, @beyond-the-ashes@elenawrit, @mblaqgi, @whenimaunicorn, @chuflisworld, @mystruggledlife, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @syreni-dea, @trashqueenbitch, @alykatv, @mbaku-babygirl, @perfectus-in-morte, @beyond-the-ashes, @neeadinghugs, @readsalot73, @triumphantreturnofpies, @anarchy-is-coming, @tephi101, @alicedopey, @ivarslittlebadgirl, @jtrstp, @nejijjeoroo, @charlylama, @ivartheblessed, @captstefanbrandt, @fabulouschrissi, @ivarsrideordie, @3x5gurl, @the-writer-appreciation-blog, @lolabee9, @captainfoxy22, @young-ugly-god, @im5ftbutmythroat66, @bribyyy, @irishhiggins, @cadetomlinson, @keclleon101, @slutforragnarssons, @ltkeke, @meeeeeeeeeps, @lille-kanin, @opalscarab, @ssraven7, @ivarandersen, @concretewaywardangel, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @sharon-is-tired, @cadetomlinson, @mystruggledlife, @chuflisworld, @justmarissa97, @lol-haha-joke, @weirdly-randomly-awesome, @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanim, @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers, @alexa040004, @buckythetinman , @burntmythroatskullingmytea,@jorunnravenslayer, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @buffy-the-vampire-blogger, @arses21434, @ltkeke, @captainfoxy22, @chinduda @letsshamelessqueen-m @my-soul-is-the-moon @we-are-transcendent

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Anyone working under the delusion that Ivar would accept the fact that his wife had escaped him eventually learned that would not be the case.

His men had stopped their violent search of Kattegat, just as he had promised Bjorn, but he was still searching for her.

Even as the months went on to become nearly a full year.

(Y/N) had been missing for ten months, one week and four days, Ivar was keeping count of his lonely nights. Despite how the people talked he had not let Freydis warm his bed in his wife’s absence.

Instead he spent most of his days and nights in his war room, looking over all the maps of other cities and villages that Kattegat traded with the most. He was furious at the fact that there had been no news from any of his informants, and his relationship with his brothers did little to comfort him.

Bjorn was, as he expected, furious at his sending off warriors to such vital trading cities. He had shouted himself nearly blue when he’d arrived at Ivar’s estate; of course he let the King do his whining and even allowed him to smash his war table in his tantrum, because to him none of it mattered.

His ships had sailed, his warriors deployed and there was nothing to be done about it; not by Bjorn or even himself. Hvitserk, like he always had, chose to remain neutral in the argument. Ubbe was clearly on Bjorn’s side, but unlike Bjorn, Ubbe seemed to understand why he had acted so hastily even if he disapproved of the actions.

Currently Ubbe was the only one of his brothers who had friendly conversations with him, and Ivar would never be able to express how much he appreciated the company in these hard months.

‘Still no news?’ Ubbe asked as they both sat on the beach and watched a merchant ship approach.

‘Nearly a hundred spies and no good news.’ Ivar sighed.

‘No good news?’ the eldest questioned.

‘My spies reported at last that they had a difficult time keeping track of (Y/N) in my time away, she would leave town alone around midday…and would not return home until nearly sunset.’ Ivar confessed, laying back in the sand and covering his eyes.

Ubbe felt his heart begin to beat faster, but he was not sure how much information Ivar truly had on the subject they were discussing.

‘You think she had an affair?’

‘I do not know, that is what tortures me brother. Not knowing things has always angered me, and now it seems I know less than ever. I don’t know if she was unfaithful, I don’t know where she is; all I know is she isn’t here.’

Ubbe had such conflicting feelings battling in his chest as he watched a few easy to miss tears roll down his brother's face. He was relieved to not have been discovered as (Y/N)’s lover, but still he was upset to see his brother in pain and know he was at least partially responsible for it.

‘If you think she was unfaithful why continue the search? Let go of your devotions and remarry, you have no obligations to her.’

'Why would I ever think such a thing?' Ivar asked, his anger visibly raising.

‘I will not let go, Ubbe.’ Ivar said as he sat back up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.

‘Not of her, not my marriage and not my anger. I will find her and she will answer every question I have.’

‘But what if you don’t find her? So far it has been nearly a year and you have had no progression in your search. It pains me to see you destroying yourself and your reputation for one woman you can replace so easily.’

Ivar looked over at his brother incredulously.

‘She can’t be replaced, not by Freydis or any woman in this world. She feared me Ubbe, do you understand that? From the day we stepped into that insignificant Christian kingdom, she looked at an army and still she feared me the most out of them.’

‘Ivar, every woman you have spoken to fears you. It would be impossible to find a woman in Kattegat you did not terrify.’

‘I know that, but how many of them would be brave enough to marry someone as vicious as me? How many would make that sacrifice? She could have stayed quiet and let any of those women be dragged away, but she stepped forward. Those Christian men offered her up like a lamb for sacrifice and still she wanted them to live, and was even smart enough to know how to play my mind games.’ Ivar explained.

‘How could I replace a woman like that, a woman that brave, who fears a filthy cripple like me?’

Ubbe sighed and stood up, looking out at the sea and saw that the ship was nearly at the docks, but he decided he could offer his younger brother some advice.

‘You shouldn’t want her to fear you, Ivar. How can anyone love what they fear?’

Ivar looked taken aback, as if he’d never considered not terrifying his wife, but instead of responding he turned his focus over to the ship crew that was unloading the boat.

‘I don’t see how he thought he was secretive?’ one of the men said casually as he helped to dock the ship.

‘He’s young, he’s never smuggled a damn thing and it shows,’

Ivar’s ears perked up upon hearing this conversation and he quickly called the two merchants over; abandoning his own chat with Ubbe.

The two men looked over at the princes curiously; as they had not been aware of the chaotic search for the Christian nun that had occurred while they were at sea.

‘Prince Ivar, Prince Ubbe.’ one of them greeted and the other nodded in agreement.

‘I’m happy that the Gods brought you all back to us, I would like to treat your crew to a small feast on my estate in the next fortnight.’ Ivar said cheerily.

Ubbe quickly understood the game Ivar was playing and he decided he wanted no part in it at all.

He bid his brother a less than polite goodbye and left the two men to Ivar’s manipulation.

A feast for a simple unimportant ship crew was unheard of, especially a feast given by a prince. It would have been considered a great sign of disrespect to decline his hospitality.

The two men thanked Ivar for his unwarranted kindness and went to let the others know that they would all, along with their families, be expected at the youngest Prince’s estate.

Ivar watched the ship crew discuss their surprising treat and he pulled himself up onto his crutches and began to walk back to the markets.

As he limped along his way he subtly motioned for one of his spies, a thrall working outside of the butcher’s stand, to walk along side him.

Obediently the man followed the wordless order and matched Ivar’s pace.

‘Everyone under my purse is to watch the men on the merchant ship that just docked. Every man is to be followed for the next fortnight. I will expect daily reports if anyone fails to report even one hour of their actions I will have them hung.’ Ivar said strictly not looking at the man at all.

As he had wished, his warning went a long way in getting the results he wanted. He received reports in the crewmens’ every action, he’d even gotten reports describing their trips into the woods to relieve themselves.

Still no news of his wife or of what the two men suspected a crew mate of smuggling, but Ivar was sure that this was the right ship.

He had discovered the ship had sailed off the morning after (Y/N) had vanished.

Ivar tasked his thralls with preparing for the feast and he was impressed with how well they had performed.

By the night his feast was set to happen he had large tables sat outside under a cloudless starlit sky and there were heaps of fine dishes and mead as well as wine from England.

The crewmen were all in awe of the extravagant show of hospitality and everyone gave him their thanks in person.

Ivar mingled among them and was pleased that the news of his wife's disappearance had become common knowledge to all of the men.

‘May I speak with you Prince Ivar?’ one of the men asked as he approached the high table.

Ivar was quick to recognize the man as one of the men he’d spoken to on the beach.

‘Of course come with me.’

With a great amount of control Ivar calmly led the man into his home away from the festivities.

‘What would you like to discuss?’ the prince asked.

‘Forgive my intruding, but I have heard of your wife’s disappearance, and I- I think I have some information to give.’ I asked.

This was what Ivar had planned; to give the crew such a grand feast that at least one man would be grateful enough to betray one another.

‘Please, I would owe you an unimaginable debt if you could help me find my wife.’ Ivar said cunningly.

‘I can’t be sure if it was your wife, all I know is that Amund had someone in that crate. We more experienced in smuggling saw him speaking with it, sliding his rations into it even.’ the old man said.

‘A crate?’ Ivar asked.

‘Yes, big crate, it could easily fit one person, maybe even two.’

‘Two?’ Ivar said, feeling his grip on his crutch tighten in his anger.

She’d had an affair and ran off with some nobody; she’d decided weeks locked in a crate with another man was better than the rest of her life with him.

‘You said this man’s name was…?’ Ivar questioned, struggling to keep his anger hidden.

‘Amund, strong boy; he went ahead of the rest of us and the first thing off the boat was the crate.’

Ivar took in all this information, trying to piece together what all this implied and he determined he needed more to work with.

‘Tell me, what happened after the merchandise was unloaded. Did he hide the crate?’

‘No, the crate was in the assigned room when we all brought in the rest, still nailed shut too. The Earl granted us his hospitality to rest after our journey.’

Again Ivar was silent, trying very hard to picture in his mind what could have happened. If (Y/N) was in the crate and this Amund was the one responsible for getting her out why did he leave it sealed?

‘Big enough for two…’ he mused, thinking that if there was a man strong enough inside with her he could break out of the crate with her then she could have escaped with him.

‘Was this crate ever damaged, or moved?’ he asked the crewman.’

‘No, at least not to my knowledge, but the journey had been harder on my body than usual in my advanced age. When the Earl offered us rest I rested, but I did hear rumors.’ the man continued.

‘Rumors?’

‘The merchants spoke of one of our crewmen walking into the Great Hall carrying an unconscious woman. I never saw her, but she was the topic of much gossip while we restocked the ship.’

‘Did anyone on your ship see this woman, even a glimpse of her?’

‘I can not say with certainty, I can only say that Amund smuggled someone out of Kattegat.’

The anger for the old man’s lack of knowledge was red hot and only cooled by his relief of finally having a lead.

Thank you for telling what you could, please enjoy the feast with your family. It is a celebration in the honor of you and all traders like you, what would our world look like without brave men like you all.’ the prince complimented as he dismissed the man.

As soon as the man was out of earshot Freydis, silent as death, immerged from the shadows of the dim lit room.

‘Spread the word, I want this man, Amund identified, and followed. He shouldn’t be able to sneeze without me knowing when and where.’ Ivar ordered, his voice much harder than it had been mere seconds ago.

‘For how long?’

‘As long as it takes for him to let down his guard and let the information slip.’

While Ivar’s spies began to focus on Amund, all the way in Denmark, (Y/N) was adapted into her new life.

In the first week of her new life as a thrall she quickly realized two things.

The first was that the life of a nun and the life of a thrall was eerily similar in many regards. An older, more hardened and experienced woman would assign tasks to her and then would judge if the task was completed correctly and met her standards. If she did well she would be given another, often more challenging task, but if it did not meet Hilda’s standards there was punishment.

It was a rare occasion when (Y/N) was on the receiving end of Hilda’s wrath, which was why her punishments always seemed so harsh in comparison to the other girls.

The second thing was that, even despite the hatred the head thrall clearly had for her, she greatly preferred the life of a thrall over the life she had fled from.

Sure the shed the thralls all shared was cold and hardly much of a shelter at all but she slept fine knowing she wouldn’t wake up to Ivar’s rage.

And even better she found other Christians among the women she now shared status with.

It felt as if she had been welcomed into a new church, even if it had only been a small circle consisting of three women of various ages.

There was Kendra, the youngest being only around nineteen who had been captured and sold from York. Dawn was in her mid thirties and was a cook, she had never said where she was from originally, just that she had been only thirteen when she became the old cook’s apprentice. Finally there was Megan who was closer to (Y/N)’s age being twenty four, she was originally from Essex.

After two years of hiding her faith from her tyrannical husband, praying amongst others was euphoric. Holding hands in prayer was what she looked forward to most when she awoke at first light.

Every morning she would be awakened by Hilda whacking a wooden stick against the walls of the shed from outside before the doors of the shed were thrown open.

‘Get up! Work to be done!’ she boomed unnecessarily.

It was common knowledge that anyone still laying down by the time the doors opened would not only be promptly hit with the stick but they also would get no first meal.

The term meal was used loosely, it was only gr Rx bone broth and uncooked crops or, if they were so lucky, scraps from feasts.

Today’s meal was bone broth and carrots, after receiving her portion (Y/N) went to the corner with her small group and they shared a brief prayer over your meal before eating quickly.

‘What is your chore list today Kendra?’ she asked the youngest.

‘Caring for the Earl’s stock.’ was the answer she was given.

‘Be sure you give the chickens enough, the last few we’ve cooked were more feathers than meat.’ Dawn sighed.

‘I will be…preparing for a visitor.’ Megan said quietly, hardly touching her small meal.

At this all of them went silent.

Megan was often used as a cleaning girl around the great hall, but on the rare occasion that the Earl had important company she was a bed warmer.

It was a truly horrible fate for any woman but it seemed to be an especially cruel task for a Christian.

Every night before Hilda came in to order everyone to sleep they all joined hands in a silent prayer, but even still it was obvious Megan only prayed for God’s mercy and forgiveness.

(Y/N) reached out and took Megan’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

‘God knows your heart and he knows your mind and spirit. He knows what sins you choose to commit and he knows the sins done against you. He will always forgive your sins and in time he will punish those who have sinned you.’ she encouraged.

Megan held onto the hand that she had been offered. Of course all the women of this small congregation were close, but Megan had such a strong connection and admiration for (Y/N).

The lie that Amund had told the Earl was widely believed and widely discussed in the markets. Meaning it was well known that (Y/N) was a runaway bed warmer herself.

It was for this reason that Megan looked at (Y/N) such wonder and great respect. In her unknowing eyes (Y/N) had done the impossible; escaped a lifetime of being nothing but a common whore for Pagans.

‘Hurry up you dogs! There's work to be done and if even one task isn’t completed then no one eats tonight!’ Hilda’s voice boomed.

Realizing that she hadn’t been focusing on her already cooling broth (Y/N) quickly drank the remaining liquid in the wooden bowl and stuck her carrots into her skirts.

Hopefully she would get a moment to sneak away and eat them before nightfall, if not then she would give it away to a beggar.

They all arose and set out to their assigned work locations.

Hilda sent a glare of pure malice at (Y/N) as she passed her on the way out of the shed.

‘If I hear so much as a word against you from the healers I’ll have you flogged.’ the old haggish woman warned.

‘Yes Hilda.’ (Y/N) replied, the air of respect and responsibility in her tone before she went on.

She had been assigned as a healer’s apprentice due to her telling the Earl she had some experience in that field of work.

Her days were spent gathering herbs and roots, mixing and brewing, occasionally there will be a person who is injured or falls so ill they need physical care and when that happens she would be the one to give them care. She would clean them, try to close up or disinfect their wounds and feed them remedies.

Today when she entered the healer’s hut she was met with the now familiar scent of living rotting flesh.

‘Girl.’ the healer, an old ragged woman named Skadi, called to her from the table where she was laying out her supplies.

‘Who is it?’ the thrall asked as she approached.

‘One of the Earl’s blacksmiths; got his foolish self cut and didn’t think to clean the sore.’

‘Infection, can it be treated?’

‘No, but he’ll survive.’ Skadi said sadly as she placed her necessary materials on a tray.

There were ropes to tie off the blood flow and restrain him, a leather strap to keep the man from biting off or swallowing his tongue, and a red hot ax in order to both remove the limb and cauterize the wound.

You hated doing this but it was necessary, the hut stunk with infection but it didn’t smell of death quite yet.

The man was older, maybe forty but clearly he’d lived a hard life to reach that age. He was quiet but his chest was heaving as if he had been fighting for each breath. His eyes were screwed shut and his head was turned away from his rotting hand.

It truly was disgusting to see a hand that mangled. The wound was still open, but no longer bleeding leaving an open gash caked in blackened blood and crusted puss.

She went about tying him down, making sure to be extra precise when restraining the arm that would soon be handless.

This was how she spent her days, in the hut with the sick and injured. It was a far cry from her old life in Kattegat. She was no longer a prince’s wife that was tended to by a full staff of thralls. Now she was herself thrall and she was called upon to do hard, truly hard, work and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaving the hut for the day (Y/N) found herself exhausted but hopeful that the man would be ok once he was rested.

As she made her way back to the shed she chomped on the carrots she had stored away from breakfast, thankful to have them at least in case someone really didn’t finish their chores and no one was given dinner tonight.

It was as she finished her last carrot that something compelled her to look over at the beach as she neared the shed.

There was a ship, of course there was a ship at the beach; where else would a ship be if not at sea. That wasn’t what made her stop in her tracks, it was undoubtedly a Kattegat ship.

By no means was (Y/N) an expert on such things but after two years she could single out Floki’s handiwork from any other boat builder.

Those sails, the dragon figurehead…that was not a merchant ship.

With her heart racing she hurried into the shed and huddled into the corner where she slept, but she did not lay down.

She just sat with her hands fiddling with the threads of her skirts, as she thought back to the morning conversation she’d had.

A visitor, an important enough visitor to be offered a bed warmer.

How had she not thought to ask who this visitor was? She prayed with all her heart that it wasn’t Ivar, but there was no way to be sure.

No, Ivar couldn’t know which boat you snuck onto, even if he did he wouldn’t just devote himself to hunting you.

At least not personally.

Ivar was a prince of a wealthy kingdom, as well as a respected warlord in his own right. What man would dare to disobey him if he ordered them to find you.

Everything was hitting her all at once.

She would have to leave tonight…run until she made it to the next town.

With what? No food, supplies or weapons to protect yourself? This wasn’t like the cold journey to Floki’s that last night. This would be a three day trip by foot. Not to mention it was no longer winter. It was spring and roads would be busy and therefore dangerous. A woman in rags traveling alone was little more than an invitation for a rapist on his way.

It wasn’t ideal by any means but it was either risk the dangers of the road or stay and be turned over to Ivar by whatever man Ivar had sent after her.

‘(Y/N), you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’ Kendra said as she sat beside her.

‘Not to be dramatic, but it feels as if I have.’

[captaincrungus]

magus perfectus

[the-critter-beast]

WIZARD BATTLE

all these wizards are at max power/level