#some context she went to church without him and she might be going through it. might.

[witchvvolf]

might hit 20k tomorrow (im wailing over this draft thus far)

text & tags below the cut!

She smelled incense. Frankincense and Myrrh. It reminded her just a little bit of home, when her mother would burn the sticks herself during their bath times.

Maybe her mother thought that if she made a ritual out of lighting the stick and washing her children, the water would be holy enough to wash away any impurities. Or maybe she just liked the smell. Her fingers reach for her hair, which she straightened and braided the night before. It was now in a cascade of black down her back. The ends are silky, it smells like lavender.

Washday was every Sunday after service. They would hear the word of God and go home to be cleansed further, enjoy a meal of pot roast that had been cooking all day in the oven, say prayers before bed. She didn’t realize how much she misses the routine until now. Washday was whenever she felt it should be.

forrest faery tags to @coffeeandcalligraphy and @thewardenofwinter

lmk if you wanna be added to the tag list!

[bradshawsbaby]

Letters to My Love // Part V

Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 3.7k

Author’s Note: As always, if you’re interested in learning more about the historical context of any of the letters, or if you have any questions about anything that gets discussed, feel free to reach out! I will say that Bob’s mother’s remedy for influenza that gets mentioned in this chapter was a real “home cure” that people used to use back in the day!

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story!

The title for this chapter comes from The Andrews Sisters song of the same name.

Dedication: As always, this story is dedicated to @luminousnotmatter​. I could thank you endlessly for all the love and support!

Warnings: Alternating POV, references to war and its impact, mentions of rationing, discussion of war casualties and death, references to church and prayer, a ton of fluff as always.

October 12, 1942

Dear Peach,

First of all, I want to start by saying that I’m so sorry for the troubles your family went through at the end of the summer. Little Frankie sounds like quite the trooper, but I’m sure it must have been hard on all of you to see him so sick like that. I’m real, real glad to hear that he’s on the mend. Dottie, too.

It’s funny—even though I’ve never met her, it’s not hard at all for me to believe that your sister was one of the few babies who survived the Spanish Flu back in 1918. From everything you’ve shared with me, it sounds like it would take a lot to break Dottie Sheridan. I’d bet my last dollar that she gives Paddy a run for his money on a regular basis. Maybe don’t tell her I said that though. I do want her to like me, should we ever get to meet in person one day.

You know, a couple summers back, my little brothers ended up coming down with a case of influenza. It seemed as though they picked it up from some of the kids they’d been playing with. It might sound crazy, but my mother would take a handkerchief, sprinkle it with whiskey, and make my brothers inhale the fumes every night before they went to bed. I don’t know where she learned that remedy, but would you believe that the two of them were right as rain after just four days? I’m confident that everyone in your household is the picture of health now, but you might want to give it a try should anyone else come down with the flu. I can’t explain it, but it did seem to do the trick!

I’ll selfishly admit that the weeks that went by without receiving a letter from you were desolate ones indeed. I received a couple letters from home, which were wonderful, but I found that my mind kept wandering back to sunny Charleston instead of the farmlands of Iowa. When I finally saw your handwriting on the envelope they handed me during Mail Call, it took everything in me not to jump up and down like a fool and make a scene. Just like you, I’ve been rereading your letters each night before lights out. I know we haven’t been exchanging messages for long, but each one lifts my spirits more than you could know. And around these parts, that’s a real special thing.

Despite being so far away from home and from everything that’s familiar and comfortable, when I close my eyes and imagine sharing a slice of your mama’s peach tart or getting to dance with you again and hear your pretty voice, I feel as though everything’s going to be alright. Even if the feeling only lasts for a minute or two, it gives me something to hold onto in the moments when it feels like maybe the world really is going to pieces. So thank you for that. Your kindness and your sweet words of encouragement are helping me get through this war, minute by minute and day by day.

I think, if you’re agreeable to it, that I’d really like to take you up on your offer to show you the world one day. Maybe even from up in the air. I may be Paul’s backseat gunner, but I know a thing or two about piloting an aircraft. You can trust me. Any places in particular you’d like to see, Peach? I’m all ears.

I promise you that I am most certainly NOT remembering you through rose-colored glasses. If you remember, my glasses are very much of the non-rose-tinted variety. But they do aid my vision, which helped me to see that night back in May just how absolutely swell you are. I hope it doesn’t embarrass you if I say that I still remember the way your smile put the stars to shame that night on King Street. And though I know no rehearsal is necessary, it does make me quite happy to think that you’ll be practicing a song with me in mind. I know any song you pick will be beautiful, but how about “Someone to Watch Over Me?” It was the first song we danced to, after all. And I’m sure you’ll knock it out of the park. If Gershwin was still alive, I know he’d be thrilled to hear someone doing such justice to his music.

I’ll have you know that it took me quite some time to get the peace and quiet I needed to write this letter because Tommy Boy and Benny simply would not stop chattering in my ear. At first, it was just more of their usual advice—most of which, for your sake, I don’t actually take—but then I realized they were trying to pass along messages of their own to you! I very clearly, and perhaps a bit selfishly, told them that you were my pen pal and that they’d just have to go find some of their own. Benny pouted a bit, but Tommy Boy just grinned, slapped me on the shoulder, and told me he’d never been prouder.

They both say hello, by the way. I did agree to pass that much along.

Paul’s sitting near me right now, writing his own letter home to Natasha and the kids. He wanted me to thank you for your prayers and for your kind words. He’s not one to get all mushy most of the time, but I can tell that your thoughts for him and his family really do mean a lot to him. And he said he’s definitely going to take you up on that jewelry offer when we get home. He may have made some comment about buttering Natasha up when we finally return home, after leaving her alone with two babies for so long. Although, now that I think about it, my little goddaughter, Clara always insists that she’s a big girl. So I’m sure she would take great offense at me referring to her as a baby. Promise you won’t tell on me?

Peach, I hope you know how truly extraordinary you are. I find it just about impossible to believe that people don’t take notice of you. To me, that feels like people taking a stroll outside and not taking notice of the sun. But it means more to me than words can say that you can relate to me in that way. Feeling like you see me, like you really understand me—that doesn’t happen to me often. Especially not with girls as lovely as you. I’m very much looking forward to us getting to know each other better and better.

As far as childhood stories go, I want to make it very clear that Paul and Natasha were solely responsible for any and all mischief that was had in our youth. I was very much just along for the ride. I promise you that it wasn’t my idea to put frogs in our mean teacher’s purse during the school picnic when we were in the third grade. And I certainly wasn’t the one who kidnapped our class hamster so that he could “live a life of freedom in the great outdoors.” Though I will admit I may have been present when the crime was committed. I was a very nerdy and awkward kid, which I’m sure isn’t hard at all for you to imagine, so I do have to credit Paul and Natasha with providing me with some of the most exciting and interesting moments of my life. There’s hardly a memory I have that doesn’t involve the two of them. I think you and Natasha would get on wonderfully. Maybe one day, the two of you will get to meet.

What about you, Miss Peach? Were you a rebel growing up in Georgia, or a goody two shoes like me?

I’m glad to hear that President Roosevelt is keeping you all informed back home, but I’m sorry to hear that the prices are still going up. I know you already mentioned that they started rationing sugar. I hope more rations aren’t coming your way, but, truth be told, I have a sinking feeling that they will be. We’ve been burning through supplies like crazy over here, and it always feels like a scramble to get more of what we need. But I’d still hate to think of you or anyone else having to go without. It just doesn’t seem right. But then, I suppose a lot in this world doesn’t feel right at the moment.

Thank you for sharing the president’s words with me, Peach. I passed them on to the rest of the fellas, and we’re all mighty appreciative of it. I have to say, even if it was Roosevelt’s words, they sounded a lot sweeter coming from you. My safety and comfort feel like a small price to pay if it means that you and my family and the rest of the good folks back home get to rest well each night.

I hate to end my letter to you on a sad note, but thinking of men who aren’t concerned about themselves makes me think of some of the boys that we just lost recently. Just last week, in fact. They weren’t part of my squadron, but I did know several of them. They were a couple years ahead of me at Annapolis, and they were bunking on the carrier with my squadron. Good men, every single one of them. They were shot down during what was supposed to be a fairly routine fly-over. They leave behind mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, fiancées, sweethearts, and friends. But I think a part of them will still be here, so long as those of us who remember them are still around. They were men, like President Roosevelt said, who put duty and country before themselves. And they deserve to be remembered.

We also recently lost some enlisted men—some sailors on a nearby carrier. We’d gotten to know them pretty well these past few months, and it was a tough blow. I was saddest to learn about the death of a boy named Timmy [REDACTED]. I say boy because that’s what he was. We got to talking one night, him and I, and he admitted to me that he was only sixteen. He’d lied about his age and somehow managed to squeak on by—my guess is that with the draft on, they’re willing to look the other way when boys jump up to volunteer. Sixteen years old. I tell you, I don’t think I could have stomached this at sixteen. I can barely stomach it now at twenty-two. I promised him I wouldn’t tell, and I feel a little guilty to be breaking that promise now that he’s gone, but I think someone else besides me should know how brave he was. He gave everything he had for the family and the country that he loved. I know I’ll never forget him. I know I keep piling more and more names on your list, but maybe you can remember him, too? That way, his legacy will live on. I think he’d be happy to know that.

If any of my letters ever feel like too much to you, Peach, please let me know. I don’t want to unburden my own heart at the cost of your peace of mind. I’m thankful for all the ways you listen and make me feel heard, even with the entire Atlantic in between us. Just getting these words down on paper, knowing that you’ll be reading them soon, fills me with a great sense of calm. Has anyone ever told you what a great pen pal you are?

My mother wouldn’t be happy if she heard me admitting this, but sometimes I’m so dead tired at the end of the night that I fall asleep without saying my prayers. On the nights that I do manage to stay awake, however, I pray for you right after my family, you and Paddy and Dottie and Frankie. I pray that you’re safe and happy and well. I’m always glad to hear that it’s so.

Goodbye for now, Peach. I look forward to your next letter, as I always do.

Very Sincerely Yours,

Bobby

November 3, 1942

Dear Bobby,

I was so thrilled to receive your last letter in the mail, but I admit that I was crying like a baby by the end of it. I’m so sorry for the friends that you lost, especially young Timmy. Sorry always seems like such a trite thing to say in the face of such a tragedy, doesn’t it? It doesn’t feel like it encompasses even half of the pain and the grief and the sorrow that follow in the wake of such horror. But for lack of any other words that would suffice, I’m afraid that “I’m sorry” is all that I can say. Please know that I mean it from the very bottom of my heart.

I hope you don’t mind, but I showed the last part of your letter to Dottie. She walked into the kitchen and was very concerned about why I was such a bawling mess, so I thought it would be better if she heard it directly from you. My big sister is much less prone to tears than I am, but even she cried when she read your beautiful tribute to that young man. We went to church the next day and lit candles in honor of Timmy and all the young men who were lost. I’m so incredibly touched that you would want to share their memories with me, Bobby. I will most certainly treasure them in my heart and pass them along to anyone I can. I don’t want them to be forgotten either. I don’t think anyone deserves to be forgotten. Everyone leaves their mark on this world, no matter how tiny it might seem to others. Even at just sixteen, Timmy clearly left his mark.

I can only begin to imagine what it must be like for you over there, flying dangerous missions yourself and watching those around you, men who you’ve shared laughs and good times with, make that final sacrifice. Please don’t ever feel like you can’t share it with me, Bobby. If you have to live it every day, and face that reality, then the very least I can do is lend a listening ear. I’m always here for you, whatever you need to get off your chest.

To be honest, you’re the first real pen pal I’ve ever had. I’m glad to hear that I’m doing a good job, because I happen to think you’re a terrific pen pal, and I wouldn’t want to let you down in return. It’s kind of funny—when I’m sitting down to read your letters or write one of my own, I sometimes forget that there’s an entire ocean between us. Sometimes, when I read your words, it feels like you’re right here next to me. I can hear your voice, even if it was so long ago now that we were last together. And it just makes it all feel so real to me. You’re a rather wonderful writer, you know.

Hm, now let’s see. Which part of your wonderful letter should I respond to next? I have it laid out in front of me right now, so that I don’t miss or forget anything. Should we discuss your mother’s rather unorthodox cure for the flu? I’d never heard of whiskey in a handkerchief before! I thought Paddy was going to split his sides from laughing so hard when I told him and Dottie. He said that he’s not so sure he should be sticking booze in his baby’s face, but that he’d be more than happy to try that remedy himself! We’d only ever been aware of good, old-fashioned chicken noodle soup and lots of rest. I’m hoping we don’t have another influenza scare any time soon, but we’ll be sure to try the whiskey trick if we do.

Now as for seeing the world—I’ve never been flying before. On the one hand, it seems very exciting and exhilarating, but on the other hand, it seems like the most terrifying prospect in the world. Bless those Wright brothers for being the first ones to give it a go. I suppose if I ever wanted to expand my horizons, however, I’d have to get on an airplane. Ocean liners aren’t exactly the most efficient means of travel. And if I’d trust anyone to take me up in the air for the first time, it would be you, Bobby. Like I mentioned once before, my parents went to Paris for their honeymoon, so I’ve always wanted to see it. Did you know that they call it the city of love? I suppose it must be very romantic with a nickname like that. I’ve also always wanted to see Italy—the Colosseum, the Pantheon, all that amazing art. I imagine it must be so magical. Maybe not right this moment, but Rome has certainly survived its fair share of catastrophes, if I remember my history correctly. I’m sure it will survive this, too.

How about you, Bobby? What parts of the world would you like to see when all of this is over?

“Someone to Watch Over Me” is one of my favorite songs. And now every time I hear it, I think of you and that dance we shared at the USO. If that’s the song that you’d like to hear, then I’ll happily start practicing it right away. Mr. Gershwin certainly knew what he was doing when it came to composing, didn’t he?

Don’t tell them this—we wouldn’t want them getting big heads now—but I always find it to be a delight when you share stories of Tommy Boy and Benny. It makes me so happy to know that you have such good friends over there with you. And I always get a good laugh, imagining their antics. You must have the patience of a saint, Bobby, to put up with all of it. As I’ve said before, I know all too well what it’s like to have to hide away to carve out a little peace for letter writing—Dottie is constantly trying to throw her two cents in whenever she can. I actually have Frankie to thank for my solitude at the moment. He’s been a bit fussy, so Dottie hurried off to check on him. I adore my sister more than life itself, but even I can admit that it’s a bit easier to concentrate when she’s distracted.

I absolutely cross my heart that I will never let it slip past my lips that you called our young Clara a baby. It will be our little secret. I’m sure she and Natasha and Paul, Jr. will be thrilled to receive the letter Paul’s writing to them. Paul sounds like such a wonderful husband and father. He reminds me of Paddy in that way. The two of them seem to have a lot in common. Tell Paul that I’m more than happy to lend any assistance I can to helping him pick out the perfect gift for buttering up his wife. Trust me, I’ve helped my dear brother-in-law do it on more than one occasion.

Speaking of Paul and Natasha, I’m shocked to learn they were such little hooligans when the three of you were growing up. Frogs in your teacher’s purse? Kidnapping the classroom hamster? What kind of trouble did you not get into, I should ask? I think that perhaps you were more of a little rebel than you’re willing to admit, Ensign Floyd. I myself was quite the prim and proper little lady growing up back home in Georgia. Believe me, I was much too shy to be getting into any sort of trouble with anyone. Truth be told, I really sort of kept to myself, even when I was a child. But I always had Dottie, thank goodness. She’s four years older, and she’s always looked out for me. She’s my best friend and my biggest champion. It would be lovely to get to meet Natasha one day, too. Any friend of yours must be a delightful person who I’m sure I would like very much.

Your words are sweet as honey, Bobby, and make me feel just as warm and cozy inside. Whenever I’m having a difficult day, or the weight of the world’s troubles feel like they’re pressing down on me, I read your letters and they never fail to make me smile. I always knew that there were good men out there in the world—my father and Paddy have always been prime examples of that to me—but I think I was starting to doubt that there were many men left who were truly kind and good-hearted. You put those fears in my heart to rest. You are such a good man. I know we haven’t known each other long, and that most of our conversations have been through letters, but your warmth and your kindness always shine through.

I may not be able to speak to how unhappy your mother would be to learn about you falling asleep before your prayers—I like to think she’d understand, given the circumstances—but I can say with total confidence, despite never having met her, that she would be very happy and proud to know just what kind of man her oldest son is. I’m sure she already knows and is already so proud.

I keep you in my prayers every night, too, Bobby. You and Paul and his family and Tommy Boy and Benny, and all the rest of your squadron. All I ask for is that you all come home safely. And soon.

You’re in my thoughts. I look forward, as always, to your next letter, whenever it may arrive.

Affectionately Yours,

Peach

P.S. I almost forgot to mention that it was Frankie’s first Halloween! Unfortunately, the annual parade in town was canceled, but everyone still decorated and the children in the neighborhood got to go trick-or-treating. Dottie made Frankie a little pumpkin costume—he was the cutest little pumpkin you ever did see! We still have some candy lying around the house, which I wish I could send to you. Did Clara, Paul, Jr., and your brothers dress up this year? I hope they had lots of fun!

[slocumjoe]

hey uhhh i went thru ur oc post history and u said gus set himself on fire?? pls context

I love this character because whenever someone asks about him I always have to take a deep breath and get comfortable and suck a breath in through my teeth. I treat him so poorly

More Gus lore, because that specific event is actually tied to the very first event that would fuck him up forever, so I can't really talk about it without going in depth.

This is explaining the core tenent of Augustijn's story, which is guilt and its dangers. Basically, where that constant guilt came from, and how it...turned out for him...

It turns out okay. Just...takes 200+ years, an apocalypse, a divorce, and his son dying! 🥳Yay🥳

Tw; Religious trauma, child abuse, suicide, drug use, cannibalism, mental illnesses, and yet another suicide attempt.

So, some background, Gus's mom, Emma, was a fanatic catholic and generally Bat Shit about religion. As you might imagine, this is the Direct Source of both Gus' questionable worldviews, traumas, and his biological inclination to uuuhhh bad Head Times.

Emma was raised mildly religious, but she...took to it too hard? Her family was not the cause of her obsession, Gus's grandparents and uncles/aunts over there actually cut her off at one point, because she was starting to worry them but reaching out led to her lashing out. So, they just...backed off. Emma herself was a simple, homebody woman, who wanted to be at home raising her kids, and tending her garden. She would have been this way even without the religious thing.

But Emma and her side of the family were prone to addiction, see? And religion became her point of fixation and obsession. This could have still been okay, if not for the church she went into. A catholic church in the Hague that was known by all for being kind of fucking out there, even by other hardcore Catholics. This was one she went into, and even her grandchild 240+ years later would feel the ripple of this decision.

Emma goes into church and gets gnarly ideas about how life works. Its a woman's duty to have kids and raise them, to be good to her husband and her house, to listen and obey her men. Sin is inevitable and everyone does it, only those that admit and accept punishment can get another chance at Paradise. God knows every action you take and he does not care for the context, he only cares about the action. There is no "well, but" under the Lord.

Emma has mental illness, some kind of depression and anxiety, so this Big Brother Watching And Judging fucked her up. Especially since her church, in particular, was physically abusive if you did not confess to anything during confession. They thought if you had nothing to confess, you were lying.

At this point, she's met and engaged to Theodore Reinier, a rich heir to a European manufacturing company. He's pretty, a gentleman, and best of all, rich, so she can have as big and luxurious a garden as she wants. She likes him. She does not love him. She's in her twenties and unmarried with no kids, and her poor family needs to be taken care of. So she marries him. Theodore is smart enough to see this for what it is, and kind enough to allow it. He lets his wife do her own thing and treats her as a friend, rather than a lover. She hates this, she wants to be a wife (she doesnt). She wants kids, he gives her one. Augustijn. This birth goes rough, and she's told no more children.

Theodore makes one rule; August goes to a different church, or he does not go at all. Theo really didn't like Emma's church and he certainly wasn't exposing his kid to that shit.

Emma pretends to agree and takes Gus to That Church. Theo doesn't attend, so he doesn't know this is happening until much later. Gus gets all the same nasty shit Emma does. Theo learns of this when he sees Gus covered in bruises from confession beatings. This puts a huge rift between him and Emma, and he pulls all the strings he can to have her church shut down.

Emma grows to resent and hate Theo and Augustijn for not being the perfect husband and child she deserves as a good, God fearing house wife. Augustijn is left to his nannies, Emma hides away in her private garden, fuming. Theodore tries to bond with his son, but Emma's poisoned that well.

Emma tells Augustijn about demons, to fear them. She specifically tells him about church grims, demons that hunt around churches in the form of a dog to drag sinners to hell. She says this as she's admiring her new obsidian dog statues for her garden.

Eventually, Emma goes yellow wallpaper and loses her mind, and is sent to therapy and put on medications. Augustijn loathes his father for his mother's state. Theodore just wants his friend and son okay. But Emma, as she's out in town, coming back from therapy, she stops at a friend's house while the friend isn't there, and hooks up with the woman's husband. Friend's husband was stern, strict with his wife, God fearing, and generally an obnoxious 50s ideal shithead husband. Everything Emma wanted. This wasn't out of nowhere, it was brewing in the background. She knew both of them from her old church.

Emma goes home, and finally having a reason for the guilt that's always plagued her, elects to acknowledge her sin. She drowns herself in the pond of her garden, stared down by three dark, ruby-eyed dogs, overseeing her passage into the afterlife. Her young son comes into the garden to meet his mother, after she's been gone all day, only to find her in a red pool. He looks up into the eyes of the dogs. He remembers nothing of this incident, blocking it out and having been too young to understand.

Years pass, and Augustijn turns to drugs as well, though his come from the darkest parts of the Hague, rather than a doctor. He turns to sex, to crime, to anything he thinks will either corrupt him so much he doesn't care, or will finally make his guilt feel justified. He wears his mother's cross necklace through it all, and sees her beloved dog with every sin.

Augustijn goes to America for college, to Harvard, studying to become a pastor himself. (This is maybe the most terrifying part of him, the fact that he almost got it). But he doesn't feel satisfied with it, has a moment of clarity and realizes he isn't fit to preach anything. The grim certainly doesn't think so. He instead follows his only friend, Isadora, into the military. The US government allowing their soldiers to do chems means his failed drug tests don't matter.

Augustijn becomes a sniper. He has always hurt people, excelled in it, but taking life frightens him, because he knows he has no right to decide who lives or dies, not like this. But he's in China, and he's told to kill. He does, and he's very good at it. His teammates marvel at just how scrappy and determined he is, like a weed, a mold.

The Biandukou Pass Incident occurs. He eats his entire team, trapped in a Chinese mountain range during a blizzard.

Delirious from almost two months of surviving on nothing but psycho and human flesh, Augustijn is let loose back into Boston, honorably discharged. His lingering hallucinations from his Daytripper addiction, mixed with psycho withdrawal, trauma, guilt, shame, the fear of God—everything culminates. He looks up and sees the figure that has haunted him since that one, awful day; the church grim, staring expectantly.

His mother drowned herself, so he thought it fitting if he set himself ablaze.

[eimearkuopio]

My husband and I have a rescue cat. She's pretty old and as a result she can be a little expensive to look after properly, but we love her so much. She is the nearest thing to a kid we have right now, although hopefully not the nearest thing we will ever have.

She has everything she could possibly need in life, but just like everyone else, her life isn't perfect. Sometimes she's home alone, and she's a cat so that's okay, but it means we might not get around to scooping her favourite litter box before she wants to use it again. (Still at least twice a day, any time we notice it's been used, but sometimes she keeps meowing until we figure out what she wants and part of our just division of labour is that I scoop the poop because he hates it more.)

She had an ear infection recently. She feels safer with him, because of what she went through before she was ours, so we always tried to give her the medicine together. At first, I'd hold her down (gently, with love) and he'd put the medicine in. Then we'd let her go and give her a bunch of treats and let her wander around the house until it was time for the next dose.

Eventually, we accepted that it was a better option for me to wrap her up in a towel and give her the medicine. He was always there too, reassuring her, keeping her calm. She still got love and fuss and treats afterwards, but it just worked better and upset her less if I did the lion(ess)'s share of the work.

When we brought her to the vet for a check-up part-way through the treatment, he got pretty stressed. He told me he'd been having nightmares about having to hold her whole she was put down for her own good.

I told him that wasn't a nightmare. It was an aspiration, for many years in the future.

Neither of us wants her to die. In an ideal scenario, she will live out her natural life and go quietly in her sleep. But it's not a bad Plan B, to accept that if her suffering is ever great enough to warrant it, we will end that suffering with love and reassurance (and professional medical assistance).

Not every animal has a soul, but I think some of them do. I think Francis was a good name for the current Pope. I think if my husband knew enough to understand the story of Francis of Assisi, he would approve, but his cultural context doesn't have a lot of Catholicism in it and he has less than zero inclination to learn more in this lifetime on account of how overwhelmingly negative the context he does have is. He loves animals, though. Loves kids. Loves me. Tolerates organised religion, including mine. Would probably tolerate both of my heritages if I were trying to pursue them, but I'm fine with my substance as it stands. This vessel is the Ship of Theseus once more. Both parts of me were trying to help, but the non-Catholic part has decided that this is not her time or place to be in charge. The Catholic part of my heritage is in complete control, but loves all of me and all of him and all of Him enough to choose medicine over putting my Church to sleep. For now, at least. I have found my child of Omelas to rescue, and he was never the official Child, the designated scapegoat, but neither was I. Just because you couldn't tell I was suffering, doesn't mean I wasn't. I just managed to keep my nose above water, long enough to find him and for him to hold me up and let me rest. And I'll do likewise for him, and we will live a good life together, because I've found one good man on this stupid planet so I don't need to smite the whole thing. I found enough reasons to plead your case, to Him and to all of you, but that's only true for the finite self. The infinite self is still pretty pissed at what you let the finite self go through without even noticing.

It's still an option, though, if the medicine doesn't work. And I will be administering some pretty serious treatment for parasites and bacterial infections while I'm at it. Might want to start taking a pro-biotic of non-traditional Catholicism so that when the antibiotics have had a chance to clear out the nasty case of spiritual c. diff. that Catholicism has been trying to treat holistically since Vatican II, you'll still have enough microfauna available to digest the Word and absorb its nutrients. And maybe, eventually, there will be wine for you to drink; and I'll be honest, I have grown fond enough of the current hosts that I'm not pushing for that change to be made, but I think you need to at least acknowledge that when you have cathedrals of stone rising to the sky and a literal army of Swiss Guards, the bread being unleavened is really just symbolic and you should consider what it was meant to signify in the first place. "Whatever you do to the least of them, you do to me." Because He's here, too, and He often chooses those who suffer most to claim; but we don't instantiate unless we are both welcome and well-suited to the one who invites us. My finite self couldn't bear to scoop the pile of shit that the rest of you kids were forcing her to clean up, so she has gone to her room at my place to calm down, and when she's ready, she can have the body back. This house was always meant to be hers, too. But while I'm here, let me be clear: sooner or later, if you don't listen to me, you'll regret it. Because I won't let you suffer, even if you think you want you; and I won't let you keep hurting each other like this indefinitely.

Do better. Please. He loves you all so much. It's an aspiration for many years in the future, even as gods or angels or whatever you want to call us measure time. We are butterflies. You are caterpillars, or maybe cocoons. Don't tear the cocoons open and feast on what you find inside. That's why He can't come back yet. He has no body now but yours, and a lot of you aren't bothering with good diet and exercise; and a few of you, my finite self included, are basically orthorexic in spite of your best efforts. Religion is meant to be a source of oxytocin. If you are using it to manufacture serotonin or dopamine, you're only going to hurt yourself and other people. If that's you, get help from outside the church. You can still have a healthy relationship with God and His angels and saints and with your faith, but not at your current levels of consumption - and please stop trying to self-medicate by shoving your bread down other people's throats. That's how you get malnutrition epidemics and fatal allergic reactions. Moderation in all things, but also, variety is the spice of life. It's the salt of the Earth. Diversity makes us. I will not let you turn my husband, my one good man from Omelas, into a pillar of salt just because yours has lost its flavour. But there are plenty of people who have already vowed that if God ever chooses to destroy their city, they would look back. Maybe we can transform those people into something more useful than raw materials. Maybe we can teach them how to fish sustainably for men (AND women, AND non-binary AND intersex individuals, because GOD LOVES EVERYONE BUT I KIND OF THINK SOME OF YE ARE LITTLE SHITS). Because I'm not looking back. That's why I get to keep him.

[fuchsiagrasshopper]

Contending the Flame XI

Author’s note: This chapter kept going on for a while so I had to cut it off somewhere which means next chapter will have Hvitserk and Ivar in Vestfold. This chapter progresses readers part a lot though and I’m very pleased with how it turned out. I’ve also reached 200 followers so I’m considering making a writing challenge for fun. Thanks to all of you who have made this happen!

Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word Count: 2716

Warnings: The usual

After many days and nights at the open water, you came to land by notice of a raven. The birds were intelligent creatures and held a deeper context in their religion. You were beginning to feel the early traces of curiosity rearing. When the longboat had slipped into silent spells, you would try to listen to pieces of conversations and make sense of the strange fables and gods. By the time you were passing into the fjord, you were struck with the guilt that a day had passed and you had forgotten to pray to God.

The sight of the foreign city had you leaping up and hanging over the ledge of the boat to catch a better glimpse. The idea of different lands always seemed so fantastical to the point of myth, yet here you were pulling into a dock. It was a dark and cold place, besieged by tall cliffs of iron rock. The sun was already low, and it wasn't even midday yet. 

For all of its murky preface, you still couldn't shake your excitement at arriving in Kattegat. It appeared you were the only one wearing a smile. The rest of your shipmates were stricken with sullen faces, and Ubbe was addressing the warriors.

"Lagertha's watch will already know we're here, so be prepared for questioning when we tie-up," He said. "Remember, we aren't here to start a war, or to win back Kattegat. We're looking for answers about the spy sent into our army."

"But Lagertha is your enemy," One of the men piped up. "Aren't you going to fight her regardless of that matter?"

Ubbe appeared frustrated. "Only when all of the sons of Ragnar have come to an agreement will we fight."

There was more chatter and bickering in hushed whispers as Ubbe tried to reign in the rabble. You watched on, wanting to help the eldest brother, but you knew your powerlessness. Audhild was beside you observing as well, and she made a harsh noise in her throat that resembled a laugh.

"Ubbe doesn't care to avenge his mother," She said offhandedly.

You paused a moment, not knowing if she wanted you to answer or if it was just her way of airing her outrage. "What do you mean?"

"Lagertha was the one who murdered Queen Aslaug. Some say to win back Kattegat, while others would have you believe it was revenge on her luring Ragnar away."

Ivar had spoken briefly about his mother, but you weren't aware of the entire history until this moment. "And what do you believe?"

"I believe Aslaug wanted to die and bewitched Lagertha into being the one to do it. She was a sad woman, made empty by the disappointing King Ragnar. There's no question that Lagertha is the better Queen, but reasoning won't reach slighted loved ones. Ivar will never allow Lagertha peace."

You looked into the healer's eyes and saw the truth of what she spoke. It was tragic. "How will you Northmen ever triumph over the Saxons, when you're too busy killing each other?"

Audhild barked out a brisk chuckle. "Smarter leaders than you or I have said much the same, yet here we are plotting to steal back Kattegat while Harald Finehair plans to launch an assault to win him rule over all of Norway. These are bold choices, and actions worthy of Valhalla. There's much you don't understand, nun."

"I wish I did," You murmured, feeling foolish. 

Audhild studied you and seemed to determine you were genuine. "Perhaps you will, now that you're here. I don't think you'll see England again."

The mention of that didn't alarm you as much as it should have. You felt a pang of sadness, but not for the loss of England. That place had never felt like home. Nowhere ever had, and that was the root of your melancholy. You didn't have a place to belong, just a series of unfamiliar destinations had come and gone.

As the ship slowly coasted up to the wharf, there weren't many onlookers, and you chalked that up to being that these people witnessed boats coming and going at all times. One ship wasn't enough to warrant too much attention. If anyone took a second glance, it was because of Ubbe. Those sons of Ragnar drew attention wherever they went, and it must have been unusual for him to be seen without the others present. 

When the boat docked, the crew immediately leapt to unloading the few provisions that had been packed aboard. You kept close to Audhild, unsure where your usefulness lied. You wanted to go and have a gander at the city, but you knew you couldn't just spring out on your own.

"Ólaug," Ubbe called, and your head snapped up at attention. "I want you to remain with Audhild for now. I'll likely be called to meet with Lagertha. I can see some of her shieldmaidens have been sent to treat with us."

You stared over his shoulder to the three women approaching. They were dressed in boiled leather and metal and armed with swords and bows, not unlike the maidens you had seen serving in the army.

"Ólaug? Did Ivar tell you to call me that?"

Ubbe flustered as if it had escaped him unnoticed that little slip-up. "He might have mentioned it, and I don't know your real name."

You sighed, but more from contentment than anger. The name had stuck, and it was something else to remind you about Ivar. "It's alright. I will try to keep out of trouble to make things easier for you."

"Good," He nodded in relief.

Ubbe was the first to hoist his way onto the dock, and you followed close behind him with Audhild and a group of warriors. By then the three shieldmaidens had made their way down to the water, and a golden blonde with intense eyes ringed in kohl stepped forward.

"You're missing something, Ubbe," She started, gathering a look at the rest of his party. "Where are your brothers?"

"Not missing, just separated. What I thought was best for the army no longer aligned with where Ivar and Hvitserk wanted to take it."

The warrior woman appeared unconvinced. "So you thought you'd return here, after threatening to overthrow Lagertha with Ivar the last time."

You tried to contain your surprise at that. Apparently, the feud between the sons and this Lagertha ran deeper than you could comprehend.

"I wished to return home, and to my wife. The ones who came with me sought the same," Ubbe explained. "Please, Torvi. I will give my share of the raids to Lagertha if that's what she wants, but I did not come here for title or glory."

The woman, Torvi, pondered over his words. "I would be less inclined to believe you if Ivar were present, but our scouts reported that you were the only ship to cross the fjord. Perhaps I can have Lagertha grant you a private meeting, but just with you, not even Margrethe would attend."

"I accept that," He agreed. "Do we have permission to disembark? My crew are tired and thirsty."

Torvi took another glance at all of you, and you found it difficult to meet her eyes when they fell upon you.

"You may, and have all of your gold brought to the Queen."

That was where the negotiations ended at least for the time being. You didn't know what task had been entrusted to Ubbe by Ivar, and you thought it better if you didn't know. Torvi led her two companions away back through the streets of Kattegat, and all while Ubbe watched her depart.

"I'm sure others are watching," He commented. "Don't mention Ivar or Hvitserk while out in public."

There was a collective agreement that reverberated from the group, and Audhild took a step forward.

"If Torvi is here, does that mean Bjorn is still in Kattegat?"

Ubbe shook his head. "I'm sure he made for the Mediterranean as he wanted to. Besides, even before we made for England, there were whispers of their marriage failing. Torvi serves his mother now."

As more names were idly tossed in the air, you began to grow more confused and out of place. The Northmen had as many struggles in their leadership as the Saxons, and you wondered if there was a place in this world that wasn't rife with betrayal. 

"Come, Ólaug," Audhild's voice broke through your internal fretting. "There's something I must tell you, and it shouldn't be done with so many eyes around."

You frowned in confusion, but when you looked to Ubbe he gave Audhild a swift nod of dismissal. Whatever it was regarding, he knew about it. 

You departed the dock, leaving the others to unload the heavy boxes of gold and treasures. Some of it you knew was from the ransacked church in York, but it didn't bother you to see it brought back into foreign lands. What Ivar had said before about the church hoarding wealth was true. Better it to be distributed among this trading post than in the hands of old men who preached righteousness but committed avarice. 

You had been anticipating with some excitement to walk through the market stalls of Kattegat, but Audhild was not leading you to the city. She was headed in the direction of a path through the woods, and you weren't sure if you should feel nervous. The sounds of the crowd were growing distant, and you wondered if you should be preparing to run. Audhild may have been a healer, but she was thick in the shoulders and could still likely beat you in a fight.

"Where are we going?" You asked, and your voice shook.

Audhild tossed a glance your way and let out a laugh. "Don't look so nervous, Christian. Do you think I'd kill you now when I could have disposed of you all those times we worked alone back in York?"

It sounded silly out loud, and you ran a hand through your growing hair. "Sorry, I guess the forest made me nervous."

"You are paranoid, but I suppose it's better to be cautious. I would hold onto those instincts if I were you," She said while stepping over brush and deadfall. "And we're headed to my home. Ubbe and I agreed it would be better to keep you out of Kattegat until you've adjusted more. Some might not take to another Christian among us, not after Athelstan."

That was Ragnar's monk friend. Ivar had only mentioned him in passing, and it seemed he was not held in high regard. You supposed if the situation were reversed, and it was a heathen among Saxons, they would feel much the same.

Audhild continued to lead you along this long and difficult path, and the more the forest twisted, the less certain you were of your wayfinding skills. If you had to find the docks again, you didn't think you'd be able to. The dense trees provided decent shelter from the winds, however, and you had lost the prickly feeling on your skin that came from the cold. 

"It's not much further now. I don't think I'll have much in the way of food, but I can provide drink and get a fire going," said Audhild.

You were used to going long bouts without a meal, but the fire sounded like heaven. Sleeping on a boat in constant motion wasn't the same as a bed or even a solid floor, and your aching back would welcome either.

The trees were beginning to thin until you found yourself in a small clearing in the woods. The ground was sun-dappled and leaf-covered, and a small house sat vacant in the center. You let out a small gasp, unable to describe what you were feeling at the sight of it.

"I know it isn't much, but it's all I've ever needed. I have no children, and I left for raids more than I was here."

"I think it's wonderful," You admitted. "But I've never had my own home before, and I gave up the need for one when I joined the abbey."

"Strange custom. What's a woman without a home?"

Had you not been a nun, it was likely you would not have had your own property anyway. It would have belonged to the man you would have chosen as a husband. You didn't bother to mention that to Audhild though. She was already looking at you as if you were the most peculiar creature. 

"Can we go inside?" You asked, a sudden longing to be sheltered. 

"In a moment," Audhild replied while holding you back. "I want to finish what I have to tell you now. Ivar wanted me to do this when we reached Kattegat and not a moment earlier."

At the mention of Ivar, your heart fluttered in both anticipation and concern. "What did he want you to do?"

Audhild took your hands, and she let the gruff expression on her face ease. "You are now made a free woman."

You blinked. If it wasn't for her strong grip on your hands, you were certain your arms would have fallen limp at your sides like dead meat on hooks. The words held much meaning, and you were afraid for whatever came next. You would have to fight the fear if you wanted to be seen as anything more than a coward. "I'm no longer a slave?"

"Yes, you stupid girl," Audhild said, letting go of you before you caught on to how soft she could be. "To be free amongst us gives you certain privileges and ensures you should be kept safer."

You didn't know what privileges she was speaking of, but the bit about being safe put you into a state of ease. "Why did he not free me himself before sending me here?"

"Can you not think of the reason?"

Shame perhaps? No, you banished the thought. Ivar was nothing if not prideful and likely would have wanted to free you himself if he could. You forced yourself to think of the circumstances of why he sent you away to be free, and then…

"If he freed me in York, I could have refused to come here," You spoke aloud and Audhild gave a resounding nod. "He thought I would refuse to stay with him."

"I'm not well acquainted with the Prince, but everyone in Kattegat knows of how he has been abandoned and lost those he cares for. I guess he wouldn't risk the same of you."

You felt guilty, but you didn't know why. As for whether or not you would have chosen to come to Kattegat yourself, you knew in your heart your answer. When you met Ivar again, you would have to make him understand how you felt. You wished he was beside you again, but you knew he had something more important to deal with and you refused to be a burden.

"What do I do now?"

"You come inside to warm up," Audhild said as she started for the door of her home. "And afterwards, we'll have to make sure you start to behave like a proper free woman because for the moment you look as lost as a fish on dry land."

You wanted to be insulted, but you knew the healer was right. You were far from home, and with a tenuous grasp of the language. What did it mean to be free, and among such strange folk as these Northmen whose religion you didn't fully understand? 

You gathered the skirts of your slave frock and hurried after her. Perhaps to start you could buy new clothes. You also had not a coin to your name, and though you were capable with a needle and thread you couldn't make an entire new wardrobe with such paltry efforts. It seemed you would have to rely on the kindness of strangers for the time being, though the thought of that felt like charity. You would do what you could to assist Audhild in place of proper payment. She was calling for you again, for Ólaug. Only this time you didn’t spurn from the name, you ran towards it and the new freedom that Ivar the Boneless had gifted to you.

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[sunflowerheartsandstarryskies]

Ain’t Family Great? ~ Lucifer Morningstar x  GenderNeutral!Reader

Summary: You have come from a very religious household, and they don’t take too kindly when they heard that you are dating someone literally named the devil.

Author’s Note: I literally got this idea from seeing a dialogue prompt on Pinterest, and it just spiraled out of control. 

Trigger Warning: Curse words, some innuendos, biblical literalism, religious talk (It is Lucifer)

You were a friend and coworker of Chloe Decker, you mostly worked in the background doing research and gathering the data on the criminals and suspects of the cases your unit was working on. That is how you met Lucifer, Chloe asked you to gather information on two main suspects on a case she was working on and Lucifer was lingering on in the background.

 When you gave Chloe the information you gathered and she left, Lucifer piped up, “What’s your name? I haven’t seen you before” “That’s because I mostly work on research stuff for cases, so I do a lot of the office work and investigative work that requires me to be in a chair for the whole day. My name’s (Y/N), Chloe’s mentioned you before,” you replied with a small smile. “Ah I hope not all of them are terrible, even if I am the Devil I like to think I have a certain amount of charm,” he said with a smirk.

That’s when you first heard him call himself the devil, and if you were honest with yourself you were always curious about his name: Lucifer Morningstar. 

You grew up in an extremely religious household, which at times felt like you were suffocating from the relentless biblical literalism that was upheld in your house. You were always curious about the Devil in the biblical stories and you always found the quote by Mark Twain interesting if read in a certain context otherwise it’ll sound like an angsty emo kid trying to be philosophical. 

There was an instance where you were on a case with Chloe and Lucifer, and the killer had said, “Oh, you know that phrase? The devil made me do it? It felt like that” 

You let out a light snort at that as you immediately responded, “The devil didn’t make you do anything. Your poor impulse control and anger management, and might I add quite a horrid spectacle of internet history could certainly be a bad combination to make you do something.”

After the case, Lucifer was very curious about your statement towards the killer as you guys headed to a cafe to get some lunch together, he asks, “Why were you so against the man using that phrase? I mean I hate it because it is so demeaning, I’ve got better things to do.”

 You shrugged as you sipped your beverage and responded, “I don’t know, maybe it’s partly because of my very religious family which I have realized how much bullshit I was forced to listen to since I was born, so I guess I grew to have sympathy for the devil.” “Oh really?” Lucifer’s small smile grew to a smirk as he leaned forward, Chloe swatted him to move back.

“Not you. I don’t know you, but one of my favorite quotes about the devil is from Mark Twain,”  you commented. “I don’t think I have,” he continued to have that smirk on his face. He was very handsome but he was so goddamn annoying, you thought. “Well, it goes: ‘Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most?’ Like, there’s this whole thing about redemption in the Bible and catholicism but does the Devil ever get the chance to get his redemption? No, I think God wanted a scapegoat and he got it from a rebel,” you ranted. 

Lucifer looked shocked for a moment but gathered his posture and said, “Well, you thought about this quite a bit. I assume because of your family?” You just shrugged at first, took a sip from your drink, then nodded. “Their family is very strict, I thought my family was weird but they got me beat, ” Chloe informed him. 

“They stopped talking to me, they didn’t think that I was enough for them. It hurt at first but y’know as time moves on I figured that I have better things to do than wallow in my past, so I realized I needed help so I got therapy and now I’m here,” you surmised. “Family is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? Filling us with traumas and issues since we were created,” Lucifer commented.

                                                                                                                             Time has passed between that first case with Lucifer and Chloe, now whenever they needed an extra pair of eyes they’d call on you to help with them. It was an interesting dynamic that you and Lucifer had developed over the weeks that you were going with them on cases. You were able to talk about literally anything with Lucifer, he made you feel comfortable which is odd since his persistence on him calling himself the Devil. By him associating himself with it, you thought he was supposed to be like an actual bad guy, but gauging his reaction to your conversation about your first case with them, you made a realization that because of his name people treat like the actual devil. 

One day, you went through your mail in the apartment lobby and spotted a letter that was from your hometown, and another one with the return address being your parents’ house. ‘The hell is this?’ you thought. 

When you opened the first one you found a wedding invitation that your cousin was inviting you to, you were actually pretty close with this cousin, she was really chill and she understands the conservative and religious household you used to live in. The second one was your parents’ basically condemning you from being at your cousin’s wedding, and that pissed you off. You were a grown adult, you would be damned if you’d let your parents try to control you anymore. 

You decided to go out to LUX, because if there is one person who understands controlling parents it was Lucifer and maybe he’d be able to give you the extra courage you need to stand up to your parents. You had on your favorite party outfit, and when you entered the club you could feel the thrum of energy and the bass of the music go straight to your heart. As you walked to the bar you spotted Maze whom you’ve met before when you came here out of Lucifer’s request, you waved her over.

 “What can I get for you?” She asked. “I’m sure you know what’s the best drink here, so I’ll leave that to you,” you said. You turned around to just watch the crowd and started to get a little nervous about the idea of going back to your hometown for the wedding, you love your cousin but hate your parents. So, you were at a bit of a crossroads with this. While you were watching the crowd you saw Lucifer come up to you with a big grin on his face. 

“Well, hello (Y/N) this is a surprise. What brings you here?” Lucifer beamed.

 “I actually came here to see you, to ask for advice,” you replied. 

“A horrible decision really,” he smirked.

“My cousin invited me to her wedding but my parents know and basically condemned me from going to the wedding, and I’m unsure of whether to just stay here in L.A. or to go to the wedding and just be resilient against what my parents’ might say to me,” you said crossing your arms and rubbing them back and forth. 

“Well, that sounds like quite a situation you got yourself in”

“I know, that’s why I am asking what I should do?”

“You know I’m all about that rebellion against parental figures, so I say go to the wedding and have a good time, your parents be damned. In fact, I would never say no to a party, so I could come up with you,” he added with a wink.

“Would you like to be my plus one? But please don’t start anything with my parents,” you begged him.

“I thought you’d never ask, and I can’t promise you that,” he smirked.

                                                                                                                            After, that conversation both of you got ready for travelling out to your hometown and you made sure to bring the outfits that gave you the most confidence in yourself because you knew that you’d need that. 

You admitted to yourself a while ago that you had a crush on Lucifer, he was hot as hell, always polite with you, and treated you with genuine interest and respect.  You also made a promise to not let your feelings get caught in the middle of your mission. You are going to have a good time at this wedding, congratulate your cousin and just have a good time. 

                                                                                                                            Both of you made it one piece to the hotel that Lucifer somehow booked without your knowledge, because you swore you got a cheap motel room but as you tried to convince Lucifer to let you go to your motel room, he just said, “Are you crazy? I’m the devil for a reason, darling, I got connections everywhere and plus this place is much more spacious. We don’t need to sleep in the same bed if that’s what’s making you uncomfortable.”

“I just thought you would probably be looking for hookups or something and would want your own hotel room for that stuff,” you sputtered. 

“Well if that comes to it, I’ll go to their room because I wanted to give you the comfiest place to go back to because I know how family can be,” Lucifer answered. 

“That’s really nice of you, y’know for someone insisting he’s the devil you can be really sweet.”

The hotel room was really nice, it had two bedrooms and a large tv screen in front of the dining area. As time moved on and you guys decided to decompress and relax on one bed and decided to just mindlessly watch the tv. You fell asleep and Lucifer watched you for a moment as he realized you were asleep, he put you under the covers and fell asleep next to you.

The next day you woke up to the sunlight hitting your eyes, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and as you took a deep breath in you smelled something delicious. You turned around and saw Lucifer cooking breakfast with his shirt half undone and his hair all curled up. 

“Good morning (Y/N), how did you sleep?” Lucifer asked.

“Pretty good, actually,” you answered with a yawn still trying to wake up.

As you both ate breakfast in relative comfortable silence, you looked at your phone and noticed the time. “Shit, we should get ready to go to the church and the party afterwards,” you told him as you got up and went to your suitcase to gather your things.

After what seems like hours to both of you, you managed to get out of the hotel room and to the church. Lucifer dropped you off in front of the church as he wanted to find a parking space for his car. As you waited in front of the church you noticed your parents walking to the church and felt your stomach churn as they were inching closer to you. Your mom looked furious and it was like her whole head was on fire how red it was. Your dad had a more quiet anger to him but you saw the clenched fists and the tightened jaw on him. You put out a little prayer to whoever to get Lucifer faster to you. 

“What are you doing here? I thought we told you to not come here,” your mother sneered.

“The last time I checked I am a grown adult and (Y/C/N) invited me to their wedding,” you stated. 

“Listen here you bitch, you are a disgrace to this family and that is why we didn’t want you here,” your mother hissed.

Before you could get another word in you heard Lucifer, “Oh there you are, love, I was looking for you.” He kissed the side of your head as he wrapped a hand around your waist and looked at your parents as he continued, “You must be (Y/N)’s parents, I’m her boyfriend, a pleasure to meet you.”

You looked at him a bit surprised and your parents’ faces were that of a gulping goldfish. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar,” he stated.

“Like the devil?” your father said with apprehension in his voice, he made your mom step back behind him. 

“Oh, I’m not as bad as the books say, you know,” Lucifer spoke with a wink.

“Quiet, evil one,”  your dad sneered.

“Oooh, name-calling so fearsome, “ Lucifer scoffed. He looked towards you as you were just staring at the three of them. “C’mon love, we’ve got a wedding to go to, can’t be late.”

                                                                                                                            After that encounter the wedding reception went quite beautifully, you may or may not have teared up hearing your cousin and their spouse recite their vows. When you both went to the after-party you both stayed away from your parents and they seemed to have lost interest after that conversation earlier. 

A slow dance came on while you were at the bar getting a drink when Lucifer appeared next and offered you his hand. You just raised an eyebrow at him in response and just said, “I thought you weren’t the type for slow dancing?” “Only with the right partner I find it enjoyable,” he smirked with a wink. 

You hit him on the chest playfully and replied, “How do you know I’d be the right partner?” you asked. “Ooh I’d figure you’d be good at from the first day I saw you” he quipped. “Okay show me your moves, then,” you replied, taking his hand and walking to the dance floor.

He led most of the dances, keeping you close to his chest with his hand on your back. It was nice, the rhythm of his heartbeat in your ear was very soothing as well as him occasionally humming with the song if he knew, which more often than not he did. 

You looked at him and you both started to stare at each other’s eyes. You felt your eyes flutter between his eyes and his lips, he was doing the same to you. His hand cupped the back of your head and he engulfed your mouth with his. You kissed back with as much passion, but as soon as he was kissing you it was over. That kiss left you wanting more and you subconsciously leaned in closer to him.

“Wow” you whispered looking at him. Lucifer just smiled at you for a second. “I hope you wouldn’t mind if you became my real girlfriend then a spontaneous fake one?” he asked. “I would love nothing more Lucifer,” you replied with a huge grin. “Let’s get out of here then, love,” he said as he took your hand and led you out of the building and back to your shared hotel room. This time there didn’t need to be any excuses to sleep next to each other, you just did.

[mewtonian-physics]

my ranking of the alex rider original series (stormbreaker through scorpia rising) from ‘book i least enjoy rereading’ to ‘book i most enjoy rereading’ let’s goooo

spoilers for all 9 books under the cut

9. Ark Angel

...He went to space. He went to space. Also the entire plot could have been avoided if Drevin had actually bothered to provide a photograph of his son. I’m sure he had one. I still like this book but it’s literally so insane that I just don’t know what to do with it. 

It is however really funny that Webber just goes and gives a speech insulting this super high-profile ecoterrorist group and acts like it’s no big deal and then they kill him. Shock of shocks.

8. Skeleton Key

Okay, points to this book for terrifying the shit out of me. God damn it does that shark scene scare me. Also, points for making me feel a little bit bad for a man who wants to nuke his own country because he thinks it will fix the place up. I’m still not entirely sure how that’s supposed to work, but that’s probably a good thing. I feel like understanding his thought process would say bad things about me. Still, I actually did feel sorry for him, if only a little. Dude was clearly mentally unstable and I doubt his son’s death helped at all. I also got sad about what happened to Carver and Troy. (Yeah, yeah, I’m a cringe fail American who has the American release. So sue me.) What a nightmare that must’ve been to endure... Otherwise, though, I’m not super into this book. The opening is just kind of meh and the way it leads into the rest of the plot seems a little bit unbelievable. Also, this might be an unpopular opinion, but Sabina annoys me. I would not get along with her at all and I can’t imagine her as a girlfriend. Skeleton Key does, however, absolutely excel at the emotional scenes. 

Also, why are all the spy agencies so comfortable with sending in a 14-year-old? Especially when they outright admit that the other attempts have all died horribly? Bureaucracy’s a bitch.

7. Point Blank

Boo, Dr. Grief! Boo! We hate your white supremacy! I’m so glad you got a snowmobile to the face, you deserved it. (Perks of books written by Jewish people--we aren’t afraid to give the neo-Nazis an unpleasant death.) Anyway, this book definitely isn’t bad, but I wouldn’t really say it stands out in the series. It definitely does hammer home the point of just how trapped Alex is, since MI6 isn’t going to just let him go after one mission, and let’s face it, the plot with the clones is creepy as hell, if highly improbable. But I’m largely just here to see the neo-Nazi get snowmobiled. That’s right, I just completely changed the definition of a pre-established word. I’m a rebel.

Also, I hate Fiona Friend so much and overall think she just didn’t need to be in the book, but the line about ‘I’d rather kiss the horse’ made me laugh so hard. Alex, you sass.

6. Snakehead

Okay, let’s talk about how genius the plan in this book is. I love it! I love how Yu wants to kill the people involved in the peace conference without making them into martyrs, so he comes up with this whole elaborate plan to stage a natural disaster. It’s incredible. This dude was thinking so far ahead. And he would’ve gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for that meddling kid... But anyway, I don’t see a lot of books where the villain really acknowledges that killing their enemies could just cause more problems for them via turning them into martyrs for a cause. Also, the way he’s so polite and soft-spoken while also being a complete monster... This book genuinely gives me chills. Extra bonus points for the part in the hospital, the absolute nightmare of having all your organs slowly removed and sold off and everyone around you is being so nice about it? ‘Oh, don’t worry, Alex, it won’t be so bad. Here, take your medicine. Do you need anything?’ Literally just. What the fuck. 

Also Ash can fucking fight me. You put your own godson in horrible danger on purpose! You killed your best friend! Bastard. 

...And just in case the book wasn’t disturbing enough, Yu’s fate at the end lives in my mind rent-free and I think about it on a concerningly regular basis considering that the chances of that happening to me are so low they’re practically in the negatives. Damn you, Horowitz.

I would also be remiss if I did not mention just how much I love the tagline ‘once bitten, twice spy’.

5. Crocodile Tears

Ah yes, the book that kickstarted my drift away from the church... I kid, of course. I drifted away from the church for completely separate reasons. But Desmond McCain is always going to scare the shit out of me. The ability to kill countless innocent people while blissfully quoting Bible verses (that he takes wildly out of context and uses for his own self-serving means) is... well, I could actually say a lot about what that reminds me of, but I’m here to rate books, not religion. Moving on. This book has some really stellar antagonists, and the plot is chilling in a way that feels a lot more realistic than most of the other books. Even if some of it is a bit farfetched (sabotaging a nuclear power plant? Really?), the idea of using disasters for your own profit... well. I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate on why that is so believable. The Poison Dome is also a really cool and chilling scene--even Alex, who has the luck of the devil, can’t get out of that one unscathed. Further scares come in with the fate of Harold Bulman--imagine having your entire existence wiped and your identity changed while you were asleep! The breakdown he has over it is almost enough to make me feel sorry for him, even though he was ready to exploit a teenager and make his life a living hell just to turn a profit. Note the word almost.

Also. The opening makes me cry. Specifically the line talking about how Ravi’s kids would ‘never meet Mickey Mouse’. I lose my goddamn mind every single time I read it. That little personal touch turns the scene from a statistic to a tragedy. Once again: Damn you, Horowitz.

4. Stormbreaker

Yeah, this one gets the special cover shot. And why not? What we are looking at here is the birth of a legend. Move the fuck over, James Bond, Alex Rider is on the scene now. Anyway, yeah, this book is pretty damn spectacular. It has its stumbles, but as the first book in a series, that’s to be expected. Still, it pulls you in from quite literally the first line and keeps you going right up until the end. (If you came here from my post of memes, you know how much the line ‘Killing is for grownups, and you’re still a child’ destroys me.) It has the debut of much-beloved characters such as, of course, Alex--but also Jack Starbright, and of course, the best MI6 agent of them all, which is to say Smithers. Hell, even Yassen Gregorovich, especially once you get through Russian Roulette... Man, that was a rough one. 

Seriously, though. This is a really good book. The scene with the Portuguese man-o’-war still gives me the chills to think about. (Have you ever looked up pictures of those things? They’re beautiful, but holy shit will they make you regret being born. Nature is funny like that.) 

We also get the introduction of, of course, Alex’s patented sass (his response to Sayle saying he relates to the man-o’-war is HILARIOUS) and we get the inherent humor of Alex screwing up an alias one time and then just going by Alex for the rest of the series so he doesn’t do that again. Really, kid, I know you’re not a trained spy or anything but did you never play pretend growing up? Ever? You can’t pretend your name is Felix for a little while? That sounds like a you problem.

3. Scorpia Rising

I distinctly remember when this book came out, actually. I was on vacation at the time, and I remember my brother annoying the hell out of the poor workers at a bookstore we frequented there to see if/when they were going to get it in. They did, finally, and we bought it immediately, and I was of course absolutely desperate to read it. He got to read it first, though. -_-

This is a great book, an absolute emotional rollercoaster all the way through. The way Blunt tricks Alex back into service by staging a shooting was exactly the kind of cold, brutal behavior I’d expect from him. Seeing Julius come back was shocking, but very exciting, too. And Razim makes an incredibly chilling villain, with his absolute disregard for human life and his desire to measure pain. Also, seeing Smithers’s house was so much fun. Smithers in this book was just really fun in general, but he’s really fun in every book, so... nothing unusual there. But also, I want an unwelcome mat. Please?

2. Eagle Strike

‘But Penny,’ you might ask, ‘why is this book so high on your list? It has so much of Sabina in it, and you said she annoys you.’ That is true. What does not annoy me, however, is basically the entire rest of the book. I love the tense opening, and then reading through Alex’s real-life ‘playthrough’ of Feathered Serpent is still one of my favorite scenes. Cray is absolutely incredible as a villain, with the way that he truly believes in his cause--which is undoubtedly a good one! Yet the extremes to which he will go for that cause, and the fact that he very nearly succeeds, are what elevate him to one of the most dangerous villains in the series. That scene with Charlie Roper and the nickels is something I can never seem to stop thinking about. Actually, I think about it basically whenever I think about large amounts of money paid in small increments... 

Also, I really enjoy how he gets into the whole plot in the first place, and I really enjoy Smithers saying ‘ah, fuck it’ and helping him out anyway. Go, Smithers. You once again prove me right in saying that you’re the coolest adult in MI6.

The revelation that Yassen knew Alex’s father is one that absolutely blew my mind first time around. The way his life was threaded into the lives of the Rider family--he worked with John Rider, was saved by him, killed Ian Rider, and then died for refusing to kill Alex Rider--wow. Wow. It gets to me. It really gets to me. This book is a masterpiece. I heard that it’s going to be what the second season of the TV series is based off of, and I’m so hyped for that. We love to see it, we really do.

1. Scorpia

I don’t believe anyone who says this book didn’t get to them at all. I just think they are lying. I don’t think it’s humanly possible to not be affected by this book. God. Just thinking about it reminds me of why I don’t think it’s possible. I mean, come on. We get all this backstory about Alex’s parents, we get tricked along with him into thinking MI6 killed his father, then bam, that was a lie, and Alex may have just fucked himself over big time. Also, that plot is terrifying! (And I bet anti-vaxxers had a field day with it, huh.) Julia Rothman is a really great antagonist, one of the only ones who didn’t go and explain her plan in great detail to Alex--the fact that she didn’t actually being a plot point was something I personally found pretty clever. In general, this book is... I tend to hate when people say they ‘can’t put it down’ because it’s usually an obvious exaggeration, but that really is how I feel reading it.

And again. If that ending didn’t get to you... Well, I just think you are lying.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Maggie and Negan’s Origins Episodes

Morning Everyone! So, I’m late doing this, but today I’ll talk about both Maggie and Negan’s Origins episodes. There’s nothing huge in either, but still some things of note. Tomorrow, I’ll do an in-depth analysis of the S11 trailer. So, here goes.

Maggie’s Origins Episode:

They show and mention Beth a handful of times, but only because she intersects with Maggie’s arc or is in a shot with her. There’s very little emphasis on Beth in Maggie’s arc.

Much like with Norman’s episode, it’s clearly told from Maggie’s POV, so we get her thoughts and reactions, and they skip huge chunks of the story that she wasn’t present for. I feel like she was less in character than Norman was, but that may be because Lauren speaks in her real accent, and it’s so different from how Maggie speaks that it feels like there’s more of a disconnect.

The part that was probably the most interesting (other than the sneak peek for S11, because once again, holy TD symbols, Batman!) was when it showed the end of Coda.

So, because it’s Maggie’s POV, we see her find out from Michonne at the church that Beth is alive, and then it skips to her arriving with the others at the hospital.

(Broken record over here but this is a good example of how it’s from Maggie’s POV. If it were just Lauren telling the story, you’d think they would say something generic about what happened in the hallway of Grady; something like, “unfortunately, Beth dies before Maggie arrives” or “Rick and Daryl try to save her, but things go awry….” But they don’t say any of that. We only see what Maggie saw.)

And it shows a lot of the final scene where Daryl carries Beth out. And there is literally NO commentary from Maggie/Lauren during the entire thing. Like…silence, except for the background music from the scene.

Then it skips to the opening scene of 5x10, Them, where we see Maggie crying near the dry creek bed, and Lauren just says, “The loss of Beth is crushing.” And then they move on with how Maggie copes and to Aaron showing up.

I have to side-eye the fact that they don’t actually mention Beth’s death here. Using the phrase, “the loss of” is both ambiguous and suspicious. Why not just term it “Beth’s death” if she really is dead?

So, once again, they’re being very vague where Beth is concerned. Even with Daryl there was SOME commentary about losing Beth. He said, “unfortunately Beth dies” and “she’s just another person he can’t save.” But we didn’t even get that from Maggie.

So, on the one hand, I just think they’re still being very careful not to reveal too much. It’s just more of what we saw in S5 with Maggie not searching for Beth, etc. To me, it simply shows that Maggie’s arc where Beth is concerned is still going and they’re still keeping to that same story. So, while of course I would like to see more of Beth and this episode isn’t NEARLY as much fun as Daryl’s was, it still doesn’t bother me overly much.

S11 Sneak Peek:

Yeah, this was creepy. Corpses in body bags reanimating. And for the record, it’s hard to know exactly what they’re talking about because we’re only getting this one clip. When they talk about whether “they” were all killed during “the fall,” I’m pretty sure they mean the group they’re hunting (probably Reapers) rather than the walkers they’re looking at. Again, it’s a little confusing. And we don’t know what “the fall” refers to. But we will when we see the entire episode.

Anyway, two major symbols jumped out at me. 1) the walker Daryl killed didn’t make any noise. When they uncover it, Gabriel says its throat has been cut so deeply, it was nearly decapitated. The implication being that its vocal cords were severed and it literally couldn’t make any noise. *speak no evil*

Also, Maggie picks up a stuffed rabbit. Yeah, that’s a ridiculously potent symbol. We saw them a LOT in S4 around Beth and Daryl, and also Lizzie and Mica. I believe the rabbits represent innocence. And especially the pure and innocent being killed, just as Lizzie killed Mica, and Beth was “killed” at Grady.

So, if they’re hunting a group (the Reapers) who are taking innocent lives, it makes sense to have the rabbit symbol here.

Without more context for the episode, I can’t really interpret the rabbit symbol more deeply than that, but it’s definitely interesting.

Negan’s Origins Episode:

Overall, I must admit that I found Negan's origin story to be boring.. I like Negan's arc and they went over parts of the story I really enjoy, but it was all stuff we'd seen before and no massive smoking guns jumped out at me. Nothing like Daryl's origin story.

I will say that they used Negan's story to emphasize other characters, especially Daryl and Eugene. They specifically showed that Daryl wouldn't say he was Negan while at the Sanctuary, while Eugene immediately did. I think something about that will be important moving forward. (Not surprising, especially where Daryl is concerned; I doubt it's a coincidence that they focused on Beth's line about him being the last man standing in his origins episode and then we saw these things in Negan's.)

At the end, they talked about how Negan is doing things his way, now. Telling his own story. It feels very significant, and he's clearly going to have a major arc moving forward. And I actually am excited about that. It's just that, overall, most of this is stuff we've seen and discussed before, so I found myself yawning.

S11 Sneak Peek:

This one didn’t have tons. They’re still in the creepy subway tunnel. Wind blows through the pipes, making them groan, which is freaking everyone out. There is a “serious” mention, which I had to side-eye. Alden says it about the wind. He says, “it’s nothing serious. We’re good.”

Then Negan tries to get them to turn back, siting a water line which shows the tunnel floods during storms, but no one listens to him. That’s pretty much it. So, not much to say other than this is clearly a creepy setup and I’m looking forward to seeing the episode.

@wdway:

In Maggie's episode, there were quite a few scenes from Chupacabra which makes me wonder if they're doing a list of important episodes for each of the characters if that episode is also on Maggie's list. It would be interesting if it were.

You were right that there's not much of a at all the part about how Maggie after the prison fell was looking for Glenn and Beth that makes me laugh. I believe that's what's called backpedaling, ha-ha. This was not in the episode, but I've been meaning to mention this. In the s11 preview where Carol says something about, you don't want to go down that road. I believe she might be talking to Maggie about revenge and how you really never find peace from it. Just a guess.

You are so right about the Negan episode being a little flat. I did come away with the feeling that in trying to honor Lucille, Negan could be essential in helping Beth in the rebel fight. Maybe just wishful thinking. We'll have to wait and see, but I feel that he and Beth are in some way going to be tied together and I truly think that Beth is going to remind Negan of Lucille and he will do whatever he can to help her to ease his guilt over not being there at the end for Lucille.

I think that after we've seen all the episodes, it'll be Daryl's by far that will mean the most for TD for setting the record straight on his feelings for Beth.

I will say that I'm hopeful that there may be some good things in Carols episode next week. I'm so hoping that she makes the point that Daryl is only her BFF and that it's Ezekiel that she loves but can't handle being with him right now because of her need for revenge. A girl can hope, right?

@twdmusicboxmystery:

We can definitely hope! I, too, am looking forward to Carol’s episode, only in the hopes that it confirms or reveals some things for us.

So, this has been my fairly short analysis of these two origins episodes. I did enjoy watching both, but clearly Daryl’s episode was by far the most exciting for TD.

Thoughts? Anything we missed?

[furry-emblem]

You know what, after talking about how biases and stuff mess with 3H discourse, I'm going to go over my biases and personal experiences with each major faction leader because I feel like it. I don’t really want people arguing with me on these, but I would like to hear other people describing their experiences with these characters because that’s always interesting to read about. I'm listing the characters in order of how much I liked them.

Byleth

Also known as erotica, keyboard smash, Sothis, another keyboard smash, BoobBoob, and Boobama. I really dislike them. I’ve never been particularly fond of silent or self-insert protagonists. At best, they signal to me that the game isn’t going to bother with its story or character writing (and that’s fine when that’s the case), while at worst, it’s the writers taking the most important character in the story and then throwing their hands up and saying “we don’t need to write this one.” Byleth feels like the ladder and it’s to the detriment of pretty much everyone around them. Like, even considering that silent protagonists are supposed to be characters that the player projects onto, Byleth doesn’t do a good job at this because there’s enough canonical descriptions of them that you can’t really roleplay, but there’s so little going on that they don’t stand on their own two feet. So it’s like having a piece of cardboard dictate the fate of the country. They also primarily function as a wall for characters to exposition dump their backstories onto, which isn’t very interesting to watch. Like, 3H would have been better off without Byleth in it. 0/10.

Rhea

I just haven't had the chance to see a lot of her stuff, so I think I'm missing some of the stuff that makes people like her (and I'd prefer to not have that spoiled for me). Haven't seen her supports or the Church Route, but she just hasn't left me with a good impression. I don't like how possessive she gets of Byleth. Like, it creeps me out a little. I'm also a bit disappointed that you never get to play as her. I want the pope to bitch slap people (except not my people). I remember her being an antagonist in CF felt kind of forced to me when I first played because her reactions felt a bit silly. The problem wasn't whether they were justified or not, the problem was lack of context given and the fact that she was saying stuff like "You will BURN in the PITS OF HELL" while standing perfectly still and making this face >:(. And I just couldn't take that seriously for whatever reason because it felt cheesy and I didn't really understand what was going on. It also soured any endearment Rhea showed towards Byleth to me on future routes because her actions in CF gave me the impression of her being obsessive and controlling of Byleth. Like, she acted entitled to their loyalty, expected them to be something they never asked for, and flipped the fuck out when they rejected. It reminded me a lot of some abuse I've gone through and it made me dislike the character. Now that I have more context on the character, I get why she reacted so suddenly and violently because CF kinda threw all of her triggers at her. It feels like she dug her grave in that route, but she dug it in a way that resembles a Greek Tragedy more than anything else. My second route was Claude's route, which thoroughly disappointed me in terms of its writing. When Rhea was exposition dumping her backstory, I was like "I'm boooored," so that really didn't help my opinion of the character. I also don't really like how she gets damsels in three out of four routes. I still don't actively like the character very much because she left a really sour taste in my mouth, but I understand that I'm missing information and that there are reasons to like her. I'm open to learning more about her, but she just really rubs me the wrong way.

Yuri

I never finished Cindered Shadows and I have no real opinion on Yuri. I thought he was a girl when I first saw him and I think he's fun to play as in gameplay, so I guess there's that. I don't really see myself replaying Cindered Shadows if I even finish it because it lacks a lot of the major things I liked from 3H.

Seteth

Does he even get to count? Like, he's not in charge and Rhea should've probably been the leader of Silver Snow. Haven't played that route yet. I like Seteth. He's got good dad energy and also he's my wife (specifically in Verdent Wind). He's got good vibes. Also, if you kill Flayn in Crimson Flower, his English voice acting when he's like "Flayn Noooo" gets to me. I still really like Seteth. A solid 8/10 for me.

Dmitri

I wasn't following Three Houses advertising at all, so I didn't know anything about anyone going in. I was originally just going to skip him entirely because he looked boring and had shitty hair. So I did his route last. Partially out if curiosity for the character, partially because I might as well do every major route since I'd already done Claude and Edelgard, partially to get to know some of the Blue Lions, and partially because some of Edelgard's backstory is only revealed in this route and I was curious about that. Dmitri's route definitely has the best writing out of any of the routes. I really like how personal the route is and how much it focuses on how one specific event impacted all of the characters in it. There are some big problems I have with the route and Dmitri, like how the game uses psychosis to represent Dmitri being murdery and how him changing his mind felt more like Byleth's decision than his own due to their conversation being pretty bad. But overall, he has the best writing. I'd strongly recommend playing through his route if you haven't just because the writing's rather good there. The reason why he's ranked below Claude and Edelgard, however, is pretty simple: I just don't vibe with him. Like, the hero archetype bores the hell out of me, even when it is subverted like it is here. I also just didn't relate to the character on really any level while I did with Claude and Edelgard. The amount of Edelgard slander in his name also annoys me, but I don't think it really impacts how much I like Dmitri. He's a well written character that I just don't vibe with. I also remember his death in Verdant Wind and being like “wtf was that??” Like, the writers killed him offscreen.. twice. In the same route.

Claude 

I really enjoyed Claude as a character. He left a good first impression on me and I almost picked him for my first playthrough because he’s hot and sassy. Two good traits for any character. I ended up picking Edelgard, though, and he left a good impression on me during CF. I like that he held the alliance together and had a contingency plan for if he lost that battle. When I played his route, I ended up going Hard Mode NG+ Casual and I stuck everyone on a dragon. I did find it funny that throughout the school phase, Claude learns bow stuff repeatedly, then in one of the last months, he went up to me and was like “hey, can you start teaching me in axe and flying?” Which he had nothing in either. Then timeskip happens and he comes waltzing in on a dragon. Claude is where all the good memes in the fandom go. That said, I really disliked his route because Claude felt like an afterthought in it (because he literally was). I don’t like that I got out of the route and it felt like I didn’t know as much more about the character going out than I did going in. Some of that is because I didn’t see a ton of his supports, which is where pretty much all of the character work is. I like how Claude is open minded and actively tries to seek out the truth. So, overall, I found his route a bit disappoint but I still really like him because he’s a fun character.

Edelgard

I fucking love Edelgard. She was my first pick and therefore the character that introduced me to the game, and by extension, the series of Fire Emblem. I picked her because she’s pretty, she looked ready to fistfight god from the word go, and she seemed like the mascot of the game so I figured the writers might put a bit extra effort into her route (they didn’t, rip). My very first playthrough was actually a Normal/Classic run, but I had to abandon the run because literally everyone died four hours into the save (I swapped to Normal/Casual). Edelgard ended up carrying me through my first playthrough. I stuck her on a dragon and she killed literally everyone and everything. In my most recent playthrough of the game, I did CF and made her an archer mage dancer for the memes and that was also a ton of fun to play with. Her gameplay feel had a role in me liking her (like, Dmitri is also very powerful, but it was my third playthrough and I knew what I was doing better by then, so him being just as OP as Edelgard didn’t really influence my opinion on him as much as it did her). 

Besides the gameplay, Edelgard’s probably the major character that I relate to the most. Every character on this list (except maybe Byleth or Yuri, I know literally nothing about Yuri tho) has experience with trauma and is coping with it in some way. Edelgard copes by villainizing herself and shutting off her emotions, but despite that, she’s still a low-empathy person who’s still very compassionate person who cares about others and is trying to do the right thing. She also generally tries to express some amount of compassion to her enemies, even if it’s little more than saying “it sucks that Dmitri had to die.” She’s not as open-minded or as truth-seeking as Claude is, but she still tries to keep herself open to other viewpoints and will readily accept any she deems as valid at a moment’s notice. I just really like that about her because I share a lot of those traits in common with her. I also like the idea of her being someone who’s willing to do evil things to bring good to the world. That’s not something you normally get in a protagonist and I think that’s a cool idea. 

I still found her route to be very awkward, especially with no context. Like, I missed the line where Edelgard’s like “yeah, btw, I’m the Flame Emperor,” so I was just wondering what happened there. It’s an anticlimactic way to end the main plot of the first half of the game. I also didn’t really get Rhea’s angle at all. So the route just felt a lot like “I guess I’m doing this now??” In other routes, I found her deaths to be very hard hitting. The death in Verdant Wind only really got me because I really liked Edelgard and she was my original student and I could feel how much she wanted to make her future a reality and how her failing meant all of those sacrifices she made and the evils she’d done would now all be for nothing. I get that impression with Azure Moon’s ending too. 

Most of my appreciation for the character does come from her support conversations. I like how her chain with Bernie has her trying to learn how to not scare her off. Her interactions with Dorothea in their support chain are kind of sad because Dorothea is trying to show her admiration and love for Edelgard in a way that makes sense to her but then Edelgard’s low view of herself causes her to reject the offer. I really liked her Manuela support too (haven’t seen Hanneman’s but I’ve heard that it’s good). I like how with Manuela, Edelgard learns why people are religious and she that being religious doesn’t make you weak. I like her Linhart support where he calls her out for trying to dictate his life and she responds by trying to overhaul some of her own systems and assumptions about him, which leads to her giving him a role to the empire that also properly accommodates for his needs. I like how with Ferdinand’s supports, he has to learn to let go of their rivalry, but once that does happen, Edelgard takes into account his ideas and roles with them. I think it’s funny that she and Hubert flirt with each other by sending each other credible death threats. Edelgard just has a lot of very good supports. Don’t get me wrong, Claude and Dmitri also have supports that are good (I thought Claude’s support chain with Petra was cute and I really like Dmitri’s support chain with Flayn), but Edelgard’s supports go a long way to paint her as someone who is flawed but still really admirable.

Edelgard is definitely one of my favorite fictional characters, and I’d love to see more characters like her in the future.

[lonestarbabe]

The Silence

Carlos has to learn live with the silence. It's hard when no one seems to want to talk about his sexuality while all he wants to do is talk about it (like any normal person in love) (AO3)

Carlos learns that they don’t talk about certain things when he’s five and his mom talks in hushed tones with her sister about his lesbian cousin. It’s the first time he’s heard the word, and he doesn’t know what it means, but he catches the way the two women dip their voices like it’s a four-letter word. When he asks what it means, his mom looks nervous and her tone goes even lower. She gives a hurried explanation about how Fiona doesn’t like boys. She likes girls. Carlos is scandalized at the thought because Carlos doesn’t know how anyone could not like boys. He loves boys. Especially David. David has the coolest toy trucks in their kindergarten class. Carlos tells his mom as much. She laughs and says, “Carlitos, you’re too little to understand romance. All boys your age think girls are icky, but you’ll like girls when you grow up. You’ll be a heartbreaker some day.”

He doesn’t think girls are icky. He knows a lot of nice ones, and he likes to talk to them at school. Emily who wears her hair in blonde pigtails and sits across from him is his friend, and so is Vanessa, whose mom makes the best cookies in the class. Girls are good friends, but they just don’t make him feel warm and fuzzy inside in the same way that David does. “Vanessa is silly for not liking boys,” Carlos decides. His mom clucks her tongue in response.

When he was seven years old, Carlos goes to Bible Camp at his church during weekdays in the summer. They sing songs and do crafts, and Carlos has a lot of fun making sculptures out of macaroni, and slathering paint into wooden cutouts of crosses that were bought for twenty-five cents apiece on sale at the local craft store. He gets excited when they talk about marriage during one class. They’re painting pictures of weddings. He likes the idea of being married. It would be nice to have somebody to love him for the rest of his life. He likes the idea of making a promise forever to just one very special person. They don’t say it directly that boys being with boys is wrong, but they keep saying that marriage is something for mommies and daddies to do.

So, he paints himself standing next to a figure with a triangular dress. In the background, he paints a church, and he decorates it with flowers. He tells his teacher he put all the flowers there because his future wife likes them because the other boys would laugh at him if he said that he liked the flowers. They snicker at his comment, anyway, because they think he’s too sappy. His mom is charmed by the painting. She hangs the picture on the fridge, as she asks him about his “little fantasy girl.” She chatters happily about how much fun his wedding will be. He wishes he could tell her what he really wants, but he lets talk about her own wedding and falling in love with Carlos’ dad instead. Carlos likes listening to stories about his parents. His mom tells them with so much animation. Carlos wants to have someone he’s that excited to talk about someday. He wants a wedding with lots of flowers.

In middle school, it’s cool to call everything you don’t like or understand “gay”. An ugly shirt: gay, the wrong style of notebook: gay, talking affectionately about another male: gay. Gay, gay, gay— everything’s gay. It’s not the repetition of the word gay that bothers Carlos. It’s the absence of the word in any good context that makes Carlos want to ignore the feelings he thinks he might have. He doesn’t want to hear the word gay ever again because it hurts to hear it thrown around, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to use it in a good way. He’s never seen that version in the unwritten dictionary of eighth grade.

At seventeen, Carlos comes out to his parents, and they don’t talk about it. They tell him they love him, but they don’t ask him to elaborate. Their silence feels like displeasure, and Carlos doesn’t want to be the one to break the quiet, so he eats his breakfast and he pretends like he never said anything. He imagines his mother confessing what Carlos told them to her sister in a hushed tone. His dad’s always been a quiet man, but now, whenever they talk, it feels like a sputtering engine that never quite gets going. They go on as if nothing had happened, but something did happen. Carlos went from being terrified of what they would say to wanting them to say anything just so the uncertainty and nervousness in his stomach could have some resolution.

The silence follows them, but it keeps the peace. Carlos doesn’t want to interrupt the détente by bringing up information that they aren’t ready, and may never be ready, to handle. They’ll always love him, sure, but can they love every part of him? Can they love him without conditions? Can they show him love without having to grit their teeth as they do it? He knows that he can’t stay quiet forever, not if he wants to someday have that wedding with lots of flowers. Still, Carlos isn’t ready. After nearly a decade of silence, how does he even break through the thick wall that the silence has built between them? How does he go back to imagining his wedding day with his mother? She had her heart set on a stick girl with a triangular dress, and he knows that she still has that picture in a keepsake box. He wonders if she takes it out and looks with yearning.

The silence agonizes Carlos, and maybe that’s why he falls in love with a man who doesn’t stay quiet when he’s angry because at least the anger leads to resolution. The silence is unending. He loves that T.K. rambles about inane things when Carlos is too exhausted or upset to add many words to the conversation. Carlos knew he was in love when T.K. talked for half an hour about different types of chocolate when Carlos felt weak on his feet but didn’t want to spend the evening alone. Carlos relishes going out in public and claiming T.K. as his. Carlos’ parents can’t know about T.K., but the rest of the cacophonous world can because Carlos can only stand so much quiet. What’s the fun of being in love if you can’t talk about it. Carlos wants to tell everyone who will listen. He wants to yell that he’s found a man who is everything he loves. He can’t share his love with everyone. The silence is still heavy in the back of his mind, but for now, a little noise will have to be enough

[curiositybegetsempathy]

I was sexually assaulted a year and a half ago by my best friend of twenty years. Her husband hid in the bathroom with his hand sticking out from behind the door as he secretly filmed it. I screamed and yelled and said I saw him. He simply pulled his hand back into the bathroom without a word. My best friend simply said, “don’t worry, it’s just for personal use.”

After a month of utter heartbreak, gruesome nightmares, terror, and isolation, I finally reported him to our mutual church. Because, might I mention, he was a PASTOR. He didnt get fired—they allowed him to voluntarily step down so that he could continue working as a pastor later without it being officially on his record he was fired. (A wonderful policy, am I right?) I made it clear to the pastor that I didnt want them to unnecessarily suffer out of revenge, but that I wanted to make sure no one else would go through the horror that I did, which is why I reported it to the church.

I stayed silent for a year and a half. I isolated. I tried to kill myself. I lost my entire community of 20 years. I told a select few people—my family and three close friends who didn’t know them. I knew that sexual assault is a very serious thing and that if people knew, they’d forever think of them differently. So I went into hiding. For their sake. Because even though I have had nightmares every single week, sometimes every single night, I wanted the best for them. She was my best friend forever, after all.

After being in therapy for 10 months, I finally listened to my therapist. I realized that by protecting them, I wasn’t protecting myself. Why should I allow them to keep all of our mutual friends? Should I not be allowed to share what happened to me, simply because I’m a human who deserves to be able to say when someone completely violates them.

So I reached out to someone from my community. On my way to pick them up after my 11 hour work day, my hands sweat so terribly they were practically sliding off of the steering wheel. I listened to My Tears Ricochet on repeat, to remember that Taylor wrote about this same pain I felt. “You’re the hero flying around saving face.”

We had small talk, shallow conversation for about an hour. The entire time, telling them was all I could think about. Finally, I got up the nerve. I told them, “I have something I want to tell you, but it’s hard. And I’m not sure if you even want me to, because it will affect you too.” They were his friends too, after all. He told me, “you can say it or you don’t have to, it’s up to you.” I attempted to say it for a few minutes, but every time I opened my mouth to speak, I could only muster a sigh. It’s been a year and a half, and it just never gets easier. Before I could actually get myself to say it, he broke the silence and said, “I know about it.” I was shocked. “What?” “I know about it...” I asked how he knew. He said “[the husband] called me a while ago, and we had a very, very, VERY long talk about it. Now, I recognize I’ve only heard one side. You can tell me your side if you want...” I said, “I don’t think I want to hear what he said,” to which he quickly replied, “oh, I wouldn’t tell you what he said anyway.”

I sobbed. I sobbed uncontrollably. I said I was sorry multiple times because I was embarrassed, because he stayed stone silent the entire time. The only time he spoke was in response to my apology, to which he replied, “you don’t have to apologize. I will never turn away raw emotion.” It was so, so uncomfortable, being so completely vulnerable about this horrible situation and never once hearing an “I’m sorry,” “that’s so horrible,” “you didn’t deserve it.” Nothing. At all.

I cried harder than I have since the day it happened. I didn’t want to go to sleep, since I already have nightmares about the situation often, but I couldn’t keep myself awake. I finally drifted off to sleep, and sure enough, I had a horrible nightmare about it. About not being believed. I woke up at 5am and I went right back to sobbing so, so hard. It just hurt so terribly. How could someone see someone else hurting so terribly, breathing so quickly they can’t catch a breath, and say...nothing? Mind you, this person used to be so empathetic towards me when I was sad in the slightest. It’s not that he’s just awkward with emotions.

And I realize now. The couple must have called our mutual close friends right after it happened, and, most likely, given this reaction and the confusing actions of a few other close friends who have uncharacteristically avoided me, they must have said that I assaulted THEM. Or that I came onto them and they denied some, so I reported them as a lie of retribution. And said that no matter what story I tell, theirs is the real one. That must be it. Everything else that’s been so confusing makes sense in that context.

How could someone hurt me so terribly and not only have no remorse about it, but go a step even further and attempt to sabotage my reputation in order to save their own? I have tried with all my heart to protect them, to allow them to be remorseful and be able to start over without exile. And now, not only are they clearly unremorseful, they purposefully want to hurt me.

I’m falling apart. I feel transported right back to when it happened. I had to call in sick because I couldn’t stop spiraling and crying. I’m trying so hard to be okay, but I’m also finally allowing myself to be angry. I’ve made excuses for them, wanting desperately to give them the benefit of the doubt. But now I know. They don’t deserve it, and honestly, they never have all the way along this.

“You know I left a part of me back in New York. You knew the hero died, so what the movie for? You knew it still hurt underneath my scars from when they pulled me apart, but darling this was just as hard. This was just as dark...as when they pulled me apart.

[thepotatonami]

I can’t title this or explain this writing.

Just accept this thing that came out of silly ideas brain storming with @hydrangeasheart​  This is kinda based on their AO3 story au but could be read without context from the story (probably)

Important points are just that - Dream is possessed by Demon still (Dreamon) and Phil, Techno, Ranboo and Tommy are all living in Techno’s house. It’s crammy.

Word count: 3261

English is not my first language so there might be some grammar errors

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“Technoblade, we need to talk.” “Do we now?” “Yes. I know we both don’t exactly like each other, but this is about Dream.” “Now why would you think that will make me more inclined to listen to you?” “I am unarmed, the worst I can do is spit on you.” “Gross. Fine. You have five minutes.” “Something weird happened the other day.”

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“Come here Fundy~” Dream called, as he walked towards Fundy, keeping up with his pace even though Fundy was running. “No! I am sorry! Please leave me alone!” Fundy yelled, almost stumbling. “Come on Fundy~ We can have fun together~” Even without seeing his face, you could hear his excitement from the chase in his voice.

“Fundy over here!” Puffy called to him. Fundy quickly made a turn and ran towards her, causing Dream to also start running now.

Fundy was screaming off the top of his lungs as he ran into the border of the Holy Land, the land of Twitch Prime church. Puffy caught Fundy into a hug, embracing him into her protection, as Bad came to stand next to them, already pissed to see Dream causing misery on another child yet again. Dream did not stop, even when he saw them. There was something maniacal and threatening in his movements. 

Well… Until one moment anyway.

The moment that Dream’s body passed the border into the Holy Land, it was as if his body just stopped mid air, before he fell face first into the dirt. The sight of dream just down on the earth with his face in the dirt was definitely an unexpected sight. The fact he didn’t immediately get up as well, but rather just laid there for a moment was even weirder.

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“Dream just wanted to kiss the dirt.” Techno commented as the eyes of the other side bore into him. “Can you shut up and listen?” The other nether creature replied as Techno just shrugged. “The next part was really unpredictable and weird.”

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The first to break the silence that fell on all of them was Fundy - as he barked out a laugh.  Dream slowly sat up, crossing his legs and looking around him rather confused.

“What… What is going on?” Dream spoke up, turning his head to look at the trio. Fundy was still trying to calm his laugh while Dream just whipped the dirt off his mask without taking it off. “Uhh… We are supposed to ask you that.” Captain Puffy asked gently, nudging Fundy to stand behind her. Dream kinda nodded along, but it was obvious he was still severely confused over something, as his nodding just kinda went on.

“Dream did you just hit your head? Do you have a concussion or something?” Bad spoke up, causing Dream to turn his head to look at him. He tilted his head a little, as if considering that as an option. “You were chasing Fundy when you just… It looked like you stumbled on air. How did you even fall?” “I-- I can’t say I am totally sure where I am even… So Uhm… Could I uhh… Could we put this whole thing aside for a moment while I go to uhh… Corner… To… Regroup myself?” Dream slowly got up, cleaning the dirt off himself in light brushes. Fundy hid behind Puffy, as she looked over to Bad. Bad just looked like he was trying to process everything as he kinda gestures to a corner behind the church.

“Uhh, remember no fighting or killing on Twitch Prime Holy Land” Bad simply added as Dream walked over to the corner.

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

“Oh wait, I can hear my tea kettle going off.” “Technoblade!” “Just relax. Dream walked off anyway, right? Bad, Puffy and Fundy probably just stared at him until he did something else weird. The story is at a pause from Bad’s point of view.” “You talk as if there is another one.” The visitor scoffed as Techno rolled his eyes. “There is, just not one that we know.”

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“Yo, what the fuck was that right now?” Dream grumbled, turning with his back to the trio and taking off his mask to clean it better. No answer came back to him. “Real mature, can you talk to me and explain yourself? The sudden switch really hurt! It’s not fun to kiss the goddamn dirt.” 

The ever staying silence was growing unsettling for Dream. It’s not like he didn’t like it. He preferred his head to be quiet, and having control over his body is definitely nicer than not, but this was all too weird.

He placed the mask back around his face, securing it tightly. He tried to find a reason for the sudden switch, this was definitely not normal for the Demon to do. He wasn’t in any danger, could it be that it didn’t want to deal with BadBoyHalo again? That is a possibility but the Demon was feeling cockily confident this time around so… 

He took a look around the Holy Land. He realizes now that he was never really here… This specific land anyway was created after he was already possessed. He saw it from the outside, but he, well, the Demon never really stepped into-- He let his arms drop to his sides.

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

“Anyway yeah, I am here.” “It’s cold out here.” “Yeah, well, deal with it. You are not coming into my house. Continue your Bad’s story that he told you. Dream went to the corner, what happened then?” “I am glad you are so interested in the story.”

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“You can’t be on this land. You can’t control me while I am here, I am free here!” Dream practically shouted. “Uhh Dream?” Bad spoke, catching his attention again. It seemed as if he forgot that there  were people around him and was just reminded of that fact. He turned to look at the trio who were awfully confused.  Puffy had that motherly worried look in her eyes, and Bad could see how he obviously was attracted to Puffy’s motherly nature. He was her duckling as she used to say. He kind of moved to stand in front of Puffy as well now. He looked like there were plans running through his head, something that worried and scared Bad.

“I have a question about the Holy Land.” Dream came over casually, trying not ro make any sudden movements that might give them any concerns, even though he could clearly see on their faces they already thought he was insane.  “Uhh… This is a change of topic but sure?” Bad spoke. All of them stared at him in curiosity. “Can I live on it?”

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“Pfft-- Nerd I knew he was homeless.” “Technoblade.” Techno notioned the action zipping his lips as the other sighed.

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“What???” The reply was almost sung in unison by the trio. Dream simply nodded, placing one of his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, waiting patiently for a reply. “I mean… There are no rules against it…?” Puffy started, trailing off to look at Bad as if he will have any help in finding a proper reply for Dream. Bad was looking just as confused, and he also looked like he was still processing everything. “But I think you will make people uncomfortable here with all your gear and--” “That is not a problem!” Dream replied before Puffy could finish her sentence. 

He started to drop to the ground everything he had on him. Protective gear, his sword, his axe, his crossbow, his bow, his arrows, even his golden apples and potions. Fundy in a hurry starts to pull everything to a pile behind Puffy and Bad, looking in awe at the gear. “Wait Dream, are you being serious here? No tricks, no lies, no--” “No manipulation.” Dream finished Bad’s words before placing his last golden apple down, as it gets snatched by Fundy right away. 

“I think I will live here like a monk. That sounds so exciting, doesn’t it? Me living like a monk. Devote myself to church prime, away from causing harm and instead taking care of this land. More purple flowers will be nice for this place, no?” 

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A laugh fell out of Techno’s lips.  “A monk?” He snorted, unable to contain his amusement. Dream surprised him a lot in the past couple of years, mostly for the worse, but this was a whole new thing. “Hey, that is what Bad told me.” Sapnap crossed his arms, growing irritated with the pig’s attitude.  “And you believe everything Bad tells you?” Techno let another amused gruff leave his throat as Sapnap growled lowly. “No. I went to check it out myself.” “Oh?”

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“Dream?” Sapnap called, as he walked into the Holy Land. He can’t deny the fact that the land looked a lot more taken care of. With more flowers around and well cut grass… Was Dream actually staying here and taking care of the place? Dream came out of a tiny shack that was built inside the borders of the Holy Land. It was off to the side, and there wasn’t even a proper path yet. He looked towards Sapnap, and moved the mask a little to reveal a genuine happy smile.

“Dream, what is this? What are you doing?” “Reforming! And terraforming. Wanna see the wheat farm?? Oh it came out so beautiful! I am actually farming! Can you believe that?” Dream started to speak, so excited as if he wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone in years. 

He simply also started to walk away from Sapnap, leading him to the wheat farm he didn’t ask to see. “That… That is a nice farm… Dream do you not remember all the shit you have done?” Dream quickly ran his hand over the wheats before sighing and turning to Sapnap. “You think I can forget? I can’t. There is no forgetting, and believe me when I say that there is no one, and I mean no one, who hates me more than me.” Sapnap couldn’t see Dream’s eyes, but he didn’t need to see them. His voice spoke truth. The way he bite his lower lip, before letting a sigh out and forcing a smile back.

“I am guessing Bad told you. I really do mean what I said. I am planning to stay in this land. I can’t fix what has been done… But I can at least stay here and… And…” Dream stumbled over his words for a moment. “And be a monk?” Sapnap asked, crossing his arms, earning an iconic Dream laugh. “Yes! Do you want to taste the cake I baked? I think it came out decent!”

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“No Techno, that is stupid! I am not going to allow you to do that!” Phil’s worried tone echoed through the house. Ranboo buried his head further into Tommy’s lap, as Tommy just gently placed his hands over his ears as if that would help.

“Do you think he will go…?” Ranboo eventually asked, when it sounded like Techno and Phil walked away from each other. “I… I don’t know…” Tommy admitted. “I know he is my big brother and all but… Techno was always full of surprises I guess…” Ranboo simply hummed in agreement. “I wish Sapnap didn’t come here. Phil sounds so worried for Techno.” “I think it’s because he knows Techno is able to sneak out.” Tommy sighed. “I mean this is his house.” Ranboo added, making Tommy chuckle.

“Boys,” Phil’s voice came from the door, as Ranboo sat up to look at him and Tommy turned to look at him, “It’s bedtime, did you brush your teeth Tommy?” He asked as Tommy groaned, making Ranboo snicker.

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“Techno?” Tommy slurred tiredly, watching Techno wear his cape. “Go back to sleep, Tommy. I will be back by morning.” He walked over to Tommy and messed up his hair before picking up his axe. “Are you going to see him…?” Tommy looked at Techno with worried eyes as Techno held back a sigh but let his shoulders drop a little. “Yeah, I have to see Monk Dream. Can you imagine how stupid he looks?” He tried to joke, turning his back on Tommy. He could hear Tommy stifling a laugh, and he smiles to himself.

“Stay safe, okay?” “Holy Land or not, my axe was never a believer.”  “Techno!” “Shhh, I won't disrespect the Holy Land, I promise. Go to bed.”

Techno opened the door. When he didn’t hear Tommy walking away, he turned to look at him again. “Good night Tommy.” Tommy let a smile stretch on his lips. “Good night Techno.”

The moment Techno closed the door he was face to face with Ghostbur. He almost jumped out of his own skin, placing a hand over his chest to try and swallow the yelp that got stuck in his throat. He still needed to stay quiet, it’s the first time in forever where Phil actually fell asleep and he can leave quietly.

“Ghostbur, can you no?” He grumbled as Ghostbur smiled weakly. “Sorry, I was just worried about you.” “Worried? Why?” Techno didn’t wait for a reply from Ghostbur, as he began to walk away from the house. Ghostbur, of course, just floated along. “I overheard your talk with Phil… From a couple of days ago? He doesn’t want you to go see Dream.”

Techno stayed silent. He couldn’t be upset at Phil not wanting him to visit Dream, especially not alone. After everything that Dream did? And even if he was to go to see Dream with someone else by his side… It wouldn’t be right, not like he has who to tag along.  He needs to see this “monk phase” that Dream is going through. He chuckled at his own thoughts. Ghostbur tilted his head, trying to look at Techno without floating into a tree by accident. Techno just shook his head.

“I need to see this for myself, Ghostur. It’s important to me.” “Even if you are going against Phil’s wishes?” “Phil won’t be mad for long over this, he will understand. He has every right to worry, but I am an adult. I can make my own choices.”

Ghostbur stayed silent for a moment. Techno looked at him from the corner of his eyes.  He sometimes wondered what went in Ghostbur’s head. His thoughts must be so different then Wilbur’s as he is in general so different from him. 

God this wasn’t the time to miss Wilbur.

“Well, I surely can’t stop you, so can I just be your escort until we get there?” “I won’t refuse the company.” 

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Techno stood at the border of the Twitch Prime Holy Land, and watched as Dream watered the flowers at the moon light. He couldn’t bring himself to call out to Dream. Not like he needed to, it didn’t take Dream long to notice him and wave over to him. He decided against waving back, standing guard with the axe in hand. His knuckles whitened as he tightened the grip on the axe. He watched Dream place down the watering can and walk over to him, stopping a good distance from the border.  Techno couldn’t help but note that he didn’t stop away from him, but away from the border. 

“So you really meant it when you said you are not going to leave the borders of the Holy Land.” Techno decided to break the silence. As much silence they can get in the middle of the night. The crickets were goddamn loud, but it still felt awfully quiet.  Especially because the voices in his head seemed to be at rest as well, or maybe just curious of how this will all go down. 

Dream reached up to take off his mask, as he smiled widely.  “I did. It’s great to see you Tech! You were one of those people I was sure that wouldn’t come to see me…” Dream looked around the Holy Land. His face looked to be content and happy.

“Why stay there?” Techno asked, trying to keep his composer. He knew Ghostbur was probably watching them from afar, so he did his best to keep himself calm. But this situation was too surreal.  He ran the blade of the axe around the outside of the border. Dream crooked his head to look at the blade then at Techno.

“It’s quiet here. No voices, no one to control me, no one to tell me what to do, I am free to just…” He stopped himself for a moment as Techno squinted at him, waiting for him to finish. Techno’s voices were always slightly quieter around the Twitch Prime church, but he always guessed they were just against religion. Did Dream have voices as well? And this talk about no one controlling him…

He never did finish his sentence.

“Do you like the flowers?” Dream gestured to the various flowers planted around. “They seem lovely, I am sure.” “Oh right, you aren’t wearing your glasses. Must be tough to see in the dark without them.” Dream started to tap his cheek with one hand, and his mask with another hand. If the mask was on his face, he would simply tap it. Techno hated the fact that he knew his mannerism so well, but also found it so comforting to see him act the same as they were kids.

“You are not going to try and force me into the Holy Land to see your little flowers?” Techno asked, trying to read Dream’s expression. It was honestly just pure thinking. As if this man was not manipulating his little brothers a couple of weeks ago. Dream simply shook his head. “I can’t force you to come in, Techno. It’s not the same as we were kids…”

Quiet fell between them. Technoblade couldn’t explain it, but he hung his axe into his belt and simply fixed the braces on his arms. Something about that sentence alone made him decide to let his guard down, just a little.

“So uh… What else besides the flowers are you doing here?” Dream’s lips spread into a wide smile. 

“I baked cookies! I was told the cake I baked was not great, and I have to say I kind of agree, maybe more frosting is needed, but you can’t go wrong with chocolate chip cookies!” Dream’s enthusiasm about cookies was almost ridiculous to listen to. “Where did you get the cocoa beans?” Techno asked, trying to sound casual and not tease Dream’s behavior. “Oh, Puffy agreed to bring me things for stuff like this, saying she will supervise me to make sure I am staying true to my word. I actually enjoy her company, she is very motherly.” Dream smiled. Before Techno could even question the part of supervision or the motherly behavior, Dream started to talk again.

“Oh! And apparently, come here along the border-” He spoke as he started to walk along the inside border with a few good feet from it, as Techno reluctantly followed along the outside of the border, “This area is considered also a part of the Holy Land! This little water area. So yesterday, you won’t believe this, But I fished!” “You are right, I don’t believe you.” Techno tried to stifle a laugh, but an amused snort still escaped. “You laugh! But I have caught two fishes!” “Oh yeah? How long did that take you?” “We don’t talk about that.”

Techno started to laugh, this all felt so familiar and so right, it almost felt wrong. But he laughed, and Dream huffed before joining into the laugh with Techno.

[brawltogethernow]

So the problem starts, the problem starts when Kaine agrees to go to a bake sale.

This little old lady put her hand on his face, see? What are little old ladies doing putting their hands on his face? Doesn’t she know he could snap her neck with a finger twitch?

“You are a good Catholic boy,” she says. “I know one when I see one,” she interrupts when he opens his mouth to protest, though he wasn’t yet decided which descriptor to zero in on first. “You are always at confession.”

Kaine may, possibly, have been using confession as a kind of no-papers-required stand-in for therapy. Or maybe a no-blood-shed-Aracely-isn’t-glaring-at-me stand-in for hurting himself.

He has enough brain cells not to say this. Barely.

“Thank you,” he says instead, and tries to pull away.

She leans with him. Her hands remain on his face.

“But I never see you anywhere else!” she says. “You must come to the bake sale. It’s on Friday.”

“Okay,” says Kaine’s mouth entirely without his input. He was born with an inbuilt structural weakness against little old battle axes. He attributes this to the ghost echoes of Peter Parker’s idyllic childhood.

-

“So what are we making?” demands Aracely as soon as he returns to the presidential suite. “Lemon bars? People on TV make lemon bars. What is a lemon bar?”

Sometimes, Kaine is more glad than anything that she's always eavesdropping on the inside of his head. Often, he’d cut off a limb, hell, all his limbs, to keep her out. He'd grow a bunch of spider legs again and then cut those off. He’s not sure exactly where this falls between the two extremes. But definitely closer to the negative side.

“Oh,” she says as if he answered, tipping her head. She’s turned around on the couch and sat up on her knees and braced her arms on the back of it to see him better. “You don’t know either. That’s okay, we can Google it.”

-

So they burn the kitchenette a little bit.

"We can rebuild it," says Arcacely. "We have the technology."

He definitely leaves her in front of the TV too much. But what's the alternative, bringing her with him more?

"Yes, it is," says Aracely like he spoke out loud. "And that is but one more reason why you should do that."

"Hell no," says Kaine, and books it out of the suite fast enough that he can pretend he didn't hear her shout, "Swear jar!"

-

He finds the maid who most often handles their rooms. He hands her a stack of hundreds for her trouble, then gives her a couple more because he can tell the exchange has scared her. He tells her the hotel can bill him the damages. And then he asks her how to get to the hotel kitchen.

Aracely appears, out of breath, as he finishes bribing his way into use of a stove. Her ability to do this is one reason among many why he doesn't own a cellphone.

"You could have just asked them," she chirps, methodically going through the room and opening, examining, and then closing every drawer. It's empty right now, so there's no one to stop her. "I think they would have just let us use the kitchen. The people here like you."

"No, they don't," corrects Kaine. "And who cares? It's not like we need to save money." He can just go hit more human traffickers if he runs low. And since he spends a lot of his time doing this even when he's not running low, he is in absolutely no danger of running low. He's pretty sure he could buy a yacht, or a politician.

"Success!" proclaims Aracely, and when Kaine turns around she's holding a clear plastic tub of brown powder over her head. There's a piece of paper laminated to the side with text printed on it that might be a recipe. "Brownie mix!"

-

"That is not food," declares Aracely of their creation. "No one is going to buy that."

Kaine leans over to examine it. It's kind of...grainy.

"Brownie sand," says Aracely. "Could we start a new trend?"

Kaine sighs. They should have known trying to quarter the banquet-sized serving on the tub was a bad idea. They have clearly miscalculated on some ephemeral measurement level. They've angered the baking gods.

"Are there baking gods?" inquires Aracely.

"Why don't you ask the Catholics," says Kaine, and tugs her away to tip the cleaning staff again.

-

“This is good too,” says Aracely, presiding over the storebought tubs of those weird shitty grocery store cookies that are mostly icing that they brought instead.

“I don’t even know how I got here,” says Kaine. “What are we doing here?”

His nose twitches. He’s not sure if one of them still smells like burnt lemons or if he’s just imagining it. He does know that he’s avoiding anything lemony for a long time.

-

The woman who got him into this sidles up to them shortly after they set up, looking very pleased to see him there.

"Always good to see fresh faces," she says, and winks at him.

She continues to talk in a way that stays steadily one step to the left of him feeling like he has a firm grasp on the conversation. Possibly that's because he's overthinking things and doubting whether he's correctly interpreting a single word she's saying. What even is "the congregation", in this context?

He looks at Aracely.

She shrugs.

Is it a list. Do you have to complete a set of tasks to qualify. Are there membership cards?

Aracely shrugs a little more beffudledly. Her reeducation via television and following a vigilante around active crime scenes must not have taught her about this.

-

The bake sale is to raise money to fix the air conditioner. This means that the building is the same temperature inside as it is outside. The best description he can come up with for the response the people in the room are having to the sweltering temperature is "cheerfully miserable".

Other than that it's...weird. Festival-ish? It kind of plucks the strings of memories that don't belong to him of May Parker presiding over neighborhood events with an endlessly gentle iron fist, but it also doesn't. He also kind of feels like he is impersonating someone who is actually supposed to be here. But that's nothing new.

There is a big confused snarl in Kaine's chest made mostly of other people's experiences that he can't even begin to interpret if he pings himself about the concept of "God". He thought that might be a problem if he just walked in here and...socialized.

It is not. No one is asking him about God.

"What do you think about the setup this time?" a woman with a thin mouth and long, spindly fingers demands. Her lipstick is the same shade as Annabelle's hair and her turtleneck suggests a total lack of concern for the wet Houston heat that Kaine finds honestly terrifying.

"The--?" he starts to answer.

"It's definitely for the best they didn't decide to hold it in the basement again," she continues, saving him from answering her not-really-a-question. "I mean, why? The lobby has all these lovely windows."

She gestures. Kaine nods along, his adrenaline spiking more than it ever has for any interaction with a werewolf or a most dangerous game type with a knife.

Thus follows a brief interaction where Kaine hums or nods when appropriate, and in return learns that she's very invested in the greater accessibility of the lobby, she plays piano on a volunteer basis for the church, and she knows he's "one of Marie's injections of fresh blood" but doesn't seem interested on calling him out for not belonging here.

"Do come to the community breakfast tomorrow," she finishes, buys two cookies, and leaves.

The emotional aftermath is akin to having weathered a near-death experience.

-

Aracely has found an older couple to speak Spanish with and is chirping away at the same blistering clip typical of her English, but with a more fluid cadence that betrays it's at least one of her native languages. The in-his-head thing doesn't really go both ways, so he has no idea what they're talking about. Probably something he'd regret knowing. What if she is asking them about baking gods.

A guy in a priest...collar...thing...who Kaine hopes desperately is not the one he sometimes monopolizes, or, failing that, does not recognize him, has sprouted up to make polite conversation.

"Not a bad turnout today, eh?" he says.

"Good thing they moved it back into the lobby," tries Kaine.

The priest beams at him like he's repeated the secret code.

"So true," he says.

Kaine is totally mastering churches. This is great. He bets if it were Peter in his place he would have started a fight by now.

-

"I think that went well," says Aracely after they've retreated to the suite and she's curled back up on the couch with a bowl of...something. She stabs the contents of the bowl with a spoon. "We should definitely do that again. Socializing with your community is almost as important as scaring away all its drug lords!"

"They're not my community," says Kaine. Not just the Catholic church a few blocks away from the hotel, which he still thinks he prefers from inside an anonymous guilt box. Houston is not Kaine's community. He does not have, does not get to have, a community. (Aracely rolls her eyes in an incredibly teenagery way, projecting exasperation either at his answer or his train of thought.) "What are you eating?"

She salutes him with her spoon. "Brownie sand! It's very edible!"

"Ichh," says Kaine.

"It's good for you!" Aracely declares. She looks dubiously down at her bowl, and corrects, "It's not actively bad for you!"

"No more chocolate," says Kaine. "No more lemons. No."

"But maybe some more bake sales?"

"...Maybe."

"Yes!"

==

On AO3 (where the title and summary can be considered a bonus gag). Last year the GG Discord was talking about how the Marvel wiki categorizes characters by religious affiliation, which led to questioning why Kaine Parker was listed as Catholic. I reported back several months later after I read Scarlet Spider that it was because he started going to confession after being thrown through a church wall, which prompted gelpenss to pitch the mental image of Kaine showing up to one of the less cinematic things people do in churches.

[metasnkpotato]

Why eremika is amazing

just a little warning : could you please forgive my current ship frolicsome mood ? But with the late chapter, it would really be a waste to not spill in that now. So here we go on an eremika dropped thoughts / analyze, and don’t worry I’ll try to be not too marshmallow in order to get a higher POV on overall story, cause after all the thing of eremika is embodying major topics and key meaning of greatest SnK’s ideas.

Also, it should cover all asks unanswered from those days (normally), but if you have some other questions don’t hesitate to send a message !

1. The purity of eremika, which is getting on parallel with Gabi & Falco

2. A total love which takes multiplicity of forms

3. The two previous points have potential to make it a kind of love that rises to a global POV on love, i.e. beauty beyond cruelty (I didn’t have time yet for writing this one but it’ll come soon)

*

1. Ok so this point is the most light, that’s coming back on pretty obvious things, but I still wanted to emphasize on it first. Eren & Mikasa’s relationship is characterized by some deep purity in the content of feelings.

 One of the things I (and probably many in fandom) thought about to happen was that eremika would remain asymmetrical because of Eren's inability to see beyond his enemies, something that chapter 50 and ocean scene seemed to have startled. After all, both are basically conveying an Eren unable to enjoy a peaceful moment and affection offered to him to rush towards enemy (even if stake are different in both, there’s similar reflex).

However, what chapter 123 conveys is different.

Body language, way this question is abruptly brought, and intimacy of the moment.. well a lot of things are implying a romantic dimension, but the most surprising, on Eren’s initiative.

The way he asks those questions about their relationship (and even the fact he’s interrogating the relationship itself) involves a stake and a wish for a positive response to his desires (why bother setting such an atmosphere otherwise?). He fixes Mikasa in search of explanations, showing a genuine search and ignorance about that (I think he’s, however, aware of the ambiguity of their relationship, because he wouldn’t ask the question in such a way, he wouldn’t have been moved in chapter 50 by Mikasa’s words, and he wouldn’t have underlined the emotional side of his remoteness in chapter 112). 

So we can conclude, also from the way he contextualizes what he might believe Mikasa thinks of him :

that Eren is pretty conscious of having feelings. And that he values these at high level since long time ago. But also, and this is the most important maybe, that he had feared she didn’t loved him since the very establishment of their relationship’s dynamic. Mikasa had indeed always claimed the reason she was overprotective about Eren was because she owed it to him,

 and because he represented to her the last piece of her family.

It's therefore, if it’s something he's coming back to, obviously an element that has dissatisfied him since a long time ago. And this also explains in a new light many of his reactions and behaviors (to avoid scattering too long : the way he used to scream he wasn’t nor her little brother, nor her kid ; frustration he had to not being strong as her because it also prevented him to feel worthy of claiming love).

Thus, the actions of Mikasa and Eren in love are surprisingly both guided by a complete lack of interest to the extent that they both acted more than once under this love, without ever waiting for the other to reciprocate. 

And this unconditionality of their love is something that’s really central to the purity of it imo.

(But this arc also shows a form of conditionality implantation in a way : Eren turned away from Mikasa because she didn’t answered with honesty, and Mikasa is turning away from Eren because he was dishonest with her and conveyed opposite of his feelings. Both have been disappointed to see asymmetry, and so this distance also marks the need for reciprocity for each of them.)

For making a transition with the next point (or sub point or whatever actually) : the fact Eren and Mikasa’s relationship is so pure / immaculate is also reflected in the fact that their parallel is to be found in children’s figure.

Imo, it refers to the fact that children are one of the most valuable things in snk’s code as it embodies hope for future and a precious weak thing in a ruthless environment in need of protection. Therefore, that their love is part of this range of things since it is codified at the same level as children. 

It also refers to the idea that they must explore this side of their childhood to finally be able to make a closure on their relationship (it might be muddy about this, but I think one of the reason scarf moment is coming back so many times is also about that : those they were kids, Eren the kind boy which gave Mikasa warm, and she when she was a little girl in need of protection with a scene such as scarf wrapping, is still present within them and they must reconnect with this part too, thereby the need for the accomplishment of chapter 50′s promise).

It also shows, imo, that Gabi & Falco’s relationship and way to deal with the romantic dimension of it will have a major role in Eren and Mikasa’s relationship fulfillment as well. The fact that their parallel has already passed them in a field in which they are still wading, aka real communication and sincerity about the reason they’re acting for each other’s sake 

forms a kind of model for Eren and Mikasa. Because of their communication flaw and fear to get out of confort zone, they’re in a huge ass quiproquo whereas those two children have already managed to overcome that. I think a scene between Falco and Mikasa could be quite decisive in this regard. By following the model of children (Idk what context might it be, perhaps it is only a wobbly prediction uh) they would be able to find a way to return to the their relationship’s origins to better affirm what does haven’t changed since that, ie love.

2. the most interpretive part, sorry in advance

One thing that I find particularly great also in eremika is the multiplicity of forms that take their relationship, which also makes the complexity of it.

Mikasa and Eren are at once :

A family, in the sense of the depth and time of their bonds , and especially with the fact that they shared the same home, which is also an important part of their relationship :

The idea of the family / home and the fact that they represent for each the place where they belong is a recurring theme of their relationship. If for Mikasa it played a major role in her reasons to fight, this is also important for Eren. One of his main dilemmas being the tension existing between his will / "destiny" somehow, driving him far away from his friends / place he’s supposed to be, Mikasa is in this a kind of key for him to retrieve his way. Let explain : Although he seems carried by bigger stakes and fights (I know it’s a debate within fandom to know if Eren is to be considered as free in the way he’s taking the lead of all plot, or if it’s a question of the will he had to sacrifice himself for that because no one else could do so...well let’s just say for convenience of this post I’m on this second point even if it’s arguable). This struggle, considered since the beginning, had make him both physically / psychologically out of his limits at some determined times (i.e. for the current action, the way he transfigured his personality in this last arc). What’s interesting with eremika in this, it’s that when Eren goes "too much" out of his way, Mikasa is often to play the figure connecting him to the community of the living as a kind of safe haven (one exception being the underground church where it was Historia. Pretty interesting beside, as the thing she gave to him at that moment was “Let’s be humanity’s enemies”, which is at the opposite of what Mikasa’s brought to Eren for that. It seems like it’s also this path he chose currently, and may explain why Eren and Historia make think to be in a secret connivance at the contrary of Mikasa which has been cut off power from him).

Anyway, this is one of the things that emerges from their reunion scenes if we can call these that, and especially this one

of a lost Eren who finds in a very first place Mikasa, which acts then as a sort of connection with the world. It's physical, but also psychological since in chapter 50 in particular, when Eren loses his reason, it’s by listening to Mikasa that he reacts.

By being a part of his family and his home, Mikasa allows Eren to connect with his humanity, humanity being understood in SnK as what is common in the natural raw state between all men, a bit like the idea of paths between Eldians finally (sorry it's a bit arbitrary said so, I'll might do another post one day to explain this idea of humanity in SnK like that, but here now it would be a pretty huge digression).

It’s also because of this humanity that Eren went to save Mikasa, then gave her warmth she needed through the scarf. Something he did for no reason other than human empathy for someone who is unfairly in the pain since he didn’t even know her. It’s then which is expressed imo in particular by the tears he pours while killing her kidnappers, those spontaneous tears coming back when he’s speaking of rescuing her.

3. For the next time : Cruel, but very beautiful

*

Sorry to stop this post so abruptly but I don’t have nor the time nor the head to write currently (and don’t know when I will) but I still wanted to share these first two parts ! Next part I’d try to develop this Mikasa's maxim and see how it is interesting especially for a more global point of view on SnK. I didn’t manage to put the reference because it was rather planned for the next part but if it interests you, the idea of humanity coming from the community of the living , as a kind of hook to the real comes from the philosopher Hannah Arendt, which I might try to incorporate in the next point. Hope it’ll come pretty soon, sorry for the delay !

[fandensflytrap]

(( You know, using the year to research for this blog has been kind of fun in a lot of unexpected ways. ))

(( It started out with me trying to figure out more about the viking age and the local folklore of Scandinavia specifically. That’s where it all began since I wanted to better understand what I was writing.

So I start noticing a few repeating patterns cropping up; ‘’And then Chri.stianity changed this concept and we don’t know what the pre-christian context is anymore.’’

But I didn’t want to read the bible so I decided to push it aside for a while. And then I started to build a narrative around the witch hunts and demons and started to read up on Demonology and the witch hunts. And realized demonology was in large part just a thinly veiled excuse for medieval priests to be xenophobic and sexist.

And so I decided; I should probably look into that! Since so much of folklore is connected to Chr.istianity, I have demon characters, I use the witch hunts, I can’t ignore it. I might as well read the bible to understand the context behind the changes, maybe it’ll give me some answers?

It took me a while to do so, but I did it. I read the entire thing. I McFreaking did it.

 Aaaaaaaaaand I learned nothing from it. I didn’t understand what I was reading, but I was... less than thrilled about what I read, no denying that.  Well, ok, I learned that the devil wasn’t a part of the Old test.ament. The Old tes.tament doesn’t mention demons at all! The New Tes.tament, however, do mention demons a few times.

Sa.tan didn’t become the character they became in Ch,ristian belief before year 500 with little to no basis on what the bible said.

But the bi.ble said nothing that would clue me in on the local folklore, at least. No, I needed to go further into the history. I needed early history on Chr.istianity and  how the O.rthodoxy was established and how it spread across Europe before I got some clues on that.

So I decided to look at videos published by Yale for a semester they did on how to read the old testament, to actually understand what I read. And I’m so glad that I did, holy shit, all those nuances flew right over my head as a modern atheist reader. And then their course about the historicity of the New testament. Very fascinating, actually.

It was about how the early church tried to find their footing, learned that the Ne.w-Test.ament is terribly A.nti-J.ew. That the Ch.ristian faith mainly used the Je.wish Bible to springboard a path to make their NEW RELIGION more valid in the eyes of the Romans who squinted hard at new religious movements. 

Then I went down the rabbit hole of ‘’historical J.esus’’ for a bit, and that was kind of fun. Pfft. But basically, what I came to conclusion is that: J,esus might have existed, we don’t know, but for arguments sake let’s say he did. That in old Roman beliefs, and in a lot of places around the world, was that people could be raised to the status of Divinity. 

A lot of roman emperors had been made Deities that way. That gods could have children with humans and those children could become gods too. That this was a thing that could happen, and was a commonly held belief that wouldn’t be difficult to understand for the average person at the time. 

But since I’m getting tired of reading about Ch.ristianity, I jumped back to viking age. Which is just more Church history, electric bugaloo part 2, if we’re going to be completely fair. It’s not like there’s a lot of history to go around that’s not centered around the religious shift. 

The myths are highly Chri.stianized too. So we kind of just have to take them for what they are. BUT. There are hints to the pagan past there. So I read about Seidr. (From a modern practitioner, so there was a lot of New Age themes in there, but I’ll read up more factually academic oriented book on Shamanism soon. )

But you won’t believe how many doors just learning about shamanism does to the reading of the myths. Seidr\Shamanism with a dash of Animism is the very foundation, the building blocks to the myths. One has to understand shamanism and animism in order to understand the myths on a more intimate level outside of a modern person’s perspective. 

And I was so delighted to realize that for 1. Freya gets a much greater importance in the grand scheme of things. She barely has a presence in the myths, so this discovery was GREAT! 2. It sets up the world view as a much more focused way.  3. It showcases gender in a very different way from what is usually considered the ‘’popular’’ image in modern day and age. Women were practitioners, religious authorities, they would be REALLY important people in the local tribes.  4. Odin is a practitioner as well. Which, I don’t know about you, but I can dig that and the implications they bring.

Then we can move on to the demonization of pagan concepts with that as a springboard. I had this realization earlier, reading about demonology, but pagan concepts were just twisted into becoming demons for people to stop connecting with them. 

Pagan holidays were changed to have a Chr.istian meaning. Jòl\Yule In Scandinavia was in January or February. Then some king decided that he wanted to move it to December to celebrate Jesus together with the rest of Europe. 

Which in later years resulted in them demonized the ANCESTRAL SPIRITS who would come from the afterlife, to the mortal world, to celebrate Jòl with their living relatives. Eating the food that was left as offerings so the ancestral spirits could have their festivities, eat and drink, while the living slept.

...By turning them into criminals, suicide victims, people who hadn’t gotten baptized, those in Purgatory, and all the others the Church didn’t like. Saying that they will take your soul or kill you if you weren’t careful. Which I’m still not over.

But we can’t talk about the Christianization of the Vikings in Norway without mentioning Saint. Olav Haraldson, or Olav the Holy.

Olav was a rather interesting figure. You can literally not read up on Folklore  without him popping in to say hello. So why is that? 

Well, essentially, he started out as your average person, born by a king in Norway. What was then expected by the sons of a King at that time, would be to go on a viking raid, so he went to England and terrorized King Æthelred for like... 20 or so years. A king who had been dealing with Vikings terrorizing England for over 50 years.

Olav, funnily, became friends with the King. Was baptized by the King, and swore to be his loyal body guard for as long as he lived. 

Then he went back to Norway, bringing with him a Bishop from England to help him make the case for Chri.stianity in Norway. 

He went to all of the Kings he could gather, went to the local governmental bodies and stated his case. And it wasn’t difficult to convince the local Kings to accept Chri.stianity as they most likely had been exposed to Christianity in one way or another. Whether it’s from foreigners entering the shores along the coastal lines, or from having gone on Viking Raids\trading with others. 

Olav, of course, killed people who didn’t agree with him in a good old fashioned ‘’BELIEVE OR DIE’’ crusade, but shhh.

So when he died, at the battle of Stiklestad, the Bishop he had brought with him made him a Saint. Yeah, we’re returning to that dude. 

The Bishop made him a Saint for ‘’taming the vikings’’ and ‘’showing them the light’’. And so, Olav was then turned into a propaganda figure to further the Christian agenda. All with a great divine story and all, with the inclusion of tying in the story beats of Jesus’ life to his character for extra effect.

He was deemed THE ideal leader. The image of HOW a King SHOULD be. The image of a righteous man who did right before God. (Which, funnily, made the Swedes take over the throne as a consequence because no one could measure up.)

They said that when he died, his killed who had gained some injuries through the fight, was the first to notice Olav’s divinity. That his injuries had healed completely. And that once he realized he had battled and killed one of God’s chosen ones, he fled to Jerusalem to repent for his sins.

Then 1 year later after he had been buried, they dug his body up and placed it within the church Nidarosdomen. And the moment his body found its new resting place, he healed the ENTIRE TOWN from all their sickness and pain.

Yeah.

So after that, people began to use Saint Olav’s name to replace the old faith by retelling the old stories. You can pretty much in large part pinpoint where some pagan themes got altered during those retellings. 

The Jotun, who were intelligent chaos spirits challenging the order the gods represented (which is... eh, the duality aspect between chaos and order is a christian concept, but it’s what we got) became stupid Christian hating Trolls. Just as an example. Some myths were basically copy pasted with his name inserted into them.

Olav took over the role of both Odin and Thor. And was considered superior to both. He was better at killing the jotuns than Thor was, so Thor gave the mantle to Olav himself...

-

Which got me to the Paganism side of things. Where I found a statement that went something along the lines of ‘’Maybe the Landvettir\the spirits are being hostile because of how forcefully Ch.ristianity came, forcing a new way of life. Severing people’s spirituality, their connection with nature, the spirits? And then went on to disrespect them at every turn, treating the land spirits as demons for the crimes committed by humans.

And, like... I like that, it makes a lot of sense, actually. 

-

Moving on to a different but related topic; witch hunts and the Scandinavian Devil. 

The Scandinavian devil most likely originated as a pagan concept like most things. What that original source is, we’ll never know. But what I find hilarious about the old concepts of the Devil is that they’re represented as ‘’eeeeeeeeevil’’ for...

1. Giving people money and food. 2. Gave women and other outcasts more autonomy and power. 3. Was the midwife to women who gave birth outside of wedlock. And encouraged women to kill said children, children who likely would be unwanted, would ruin her reputation, would push her out of the local community. They basically offered a late abortion through infanticide is what I’m getting at. 4. Taught people how to read and write. 5. Made people question the church’s power structure. 6. Created a space and community where outcast of the society could throw away social expectation. 7. Sexual liberation. (Though the Scandinavian devil was highly sex repulsed and fled from even sexually obscene language. This is more of a... the devil from other places in Scandinavia thing. ) 8. Taught magic. 9. Told their followers to be unpleasant and harm others who slighted them. 10. Took your soul, your heavenly ticket to paradise.

The devil wasn’t a saint, but I just find it hilarious that all of the things they did were deemed bad when in a modern context they were doing really good things.

Which then connects them to witches. The church thought women got kids with the devil. Then they realized, wait, Demons can’t get kids. It’s a succubus\incubus, who helps the devil get the kids. By using the sperm of human men, corrupting it, and then inserting it into women.

And the Succubus\Incubus is their right hand man. Yes. Logic.

And so on, so on. That’s not even touching the anti-semitism that went on during the time, but I’m focusing more on the folk lore aspect of things at the moment.

I dunno.  I just find it interesting how it all connects and I’m not even half done researching everything I want to research.

[thetravelerwrites]

Dumont (Part 2) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Elf Ranger/Male Tiefling Barbarian Additional Tags: Exophilia, Tiefling, Elf, Kobold, Half Elf, Human, Rogue, Bard, Barbarian, Ranger, Mage, Wizard, D&D, Dungeons & Dragons, Sex, Third Person Perspective Words: 2242

Another commission for @ocsmutpocalypse. Dumont and the party stop in a town to rest, and Kharis makes an important decision. Please reblog and leave feedback!

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Sanoh, Rupert, Norman, and Dumont traveled together down the road to the next town, hoping to find paying work, while Kharis lay on Dumont’s back, eyes closed and arms behind her head as if sunbathing. He was walking on all fours as he often liked to do, and his back was so broad that she had no worry of falling off. She seemed to enjoy this mode of travel quite a lot and did it whenever the weather allowed.  

“Why do you do that?” Sanoh asked. “You treat Dumont like a horse and it’s weird.”

“He likes it,” Kharis said, rolling on her stomach and scratching gently at the base of his spine. “Don’t you, bubba?”

“I do like it,” He replied. “It’s nice to have you close by.”

“Aww, my big boy,” Kharis said, laying her cheek on his back. “So sweet to me.”

Sanoh snorted and shook her reptilian head. Rupert smirked at her and took her hand.

They came to a crossroads that had a signpost and stopped.

“Ah, good,” Rupert said. “Dumont, can you read the post? We’re going to Vasenville. Which way should be go?”

Dumont had spent most of his life living with a guardian who couldn’t read, therefore he’d never learned how to read himself. Rupert had been spending time with Dumont and was teaching him a number of things, including reading. Dumont was a very quick study, much to Rupert’s surprise. It was easy to underestimate Dumont’s intelligence based on his size and monstrous looks. paired with the fact that he’d had little to no education before meeting the group.

Dumont’s unblinking eyes looked at the post carefully for a moment, after which he said confidently, “left.”

“Good! Very good!” Rupert said, clapping a hand on Dumont’s upper arm, which was thicker than Rupert’s entire body. “Left we go!”

Dutifully, Dumont led the way toward Valenville.

Dumont tended to get a lot of funny looks when he went to different towns. He was a tiefling, but he was born… not quite right. He was far too large for his kind, nearly twice the height and width of even the tallest and burliest of tieflings. The bone of his lower jaw was exposed, and his eyes were large and bulging with no eyelids to cover them. He brick red, had no hair on his body, and his horns took up all of his scalp with blood-red veins running along them.

He was an unsettling person to look upon if you weren’t used to him, and it had drawn the ire of some of the towns they had gone to. His traveling companions were quick to jump to his defense, and Kharis was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry, but Dumont understood better than they did. His guardian, the priest of the church where he was raised, always kept him hidden and out of sight, not for a lack of love for Dumont, but for fear of what others would do to him if they found him.

He was lucky that the first people he met after his foster father’s death were kind. It would have been easy for a less than scrupulous person to use his innocence and naivete to enslave him.

As usual, he got a lot of stares as he lumbered through town with Kharis sitting across his shoulders, a leg dangling from either side of his head and a hand on each of his horns to steady herself. She narrowed her eyes and hissed at people who gawked at Dumont, and that was usually enough to force most people to avert their gaze.

Another problem Dumont had in most towns was that the inns they stayed in often weren’t large enough to accommodate him. Many times he couldn’t even get through the front door, so he ended up having to stay in the cellar, stables, or out in the back behind the building. in those cases, Rupert and Norman would set up a tent for Dumont to curl up in.

Thankfully, the stables were empty of horses and open for free shelter for those who couldn’t pay for an inn. Dumont laid out his large leather bedroll on the straw and settle himself for the evening as the others made their way toward the tavern. Kharis promised to return with his dinner.

He missed his friends when he had to sleep away from them, but it wasn’t much different than sleeping in the bell tower of the church, so he didn’t mind it so much. Still, he was lonely.

After an hour, Kharis appeared with a large jug of mead and a platter of food, mostly de-boned meats and bread. He had no lips to chew properly, so he had to tear his food with his claws, chomp it once or twice with his large, sharp teeth, and then swallow it whole.

“Here you go,” She said, sitting with him. She looked around at the stable stall and sighed. “I’m sorry you’re reduced to sleeping in pen like an animal.”

“I don’t mind,” Dumont replied. “It’s free and plenty large enough for me, at least.”

“Well, I mind,” Kharis said venomously. “It’s demeaning. One day, I promise to take you to a place where you’ll fit through every door.”

“Is it like a church or a cathedral?” He asked.

She chuckled mirthlessly. “It might as well be, except the only god they really pray to is politics.” She looked off into the middle distance. “Maybe I shouldn’t take you there after all.”

“Would I embarrass you there?” Dumont asked. He often wondered if she found the attention he drew uncomfortable. He certainly did. After spending his entire life in the shadows, the sudden swarm of gawkers everywhere he went was disconcerting to him. He felt like the constant spotlight on him was a detriment to her journey.

“Absolutely not!” She said sharply. “If anything, they would embarrass me in front of you, the pompous twits, not the other way ‘round. And if they had a word to say about you, they’d be dealing with me.”

“Well, you are scarier than me,” Dumont said, laughing a little.

“Damn right, I am,” Kharis said, jutting her chin up.

“It would be nice to go to a place where I fit into proper buildings and things, though,” Dumont agreed.

Kharis looked him up and down, a coy smirk on her face. “I can think of a couple of places you fit very well,” She said suggestively.

Dumont often didn’t understand the context of people’s tones, like sarcasm or seduction, so when Kharis said things like this, it often confused him.

“Where is that?” He asked guilelessly, but when she began to unlace her bodice and untie her pants, and he whispered, “oh.”

“Hungry?” She asked him as she stripped down.

“For you, always,” He said.

She pulled the stall doors closed and walked to the opposite wall. “I want to ride your shoulders like I did this afternoon, only in reverse. Want to try?”

He nodded his head and came close, picking her up under her thighs and pushing her up against the wall, pinning her there and throwing her legs over his shoulders. His long, long tongue came out and pressed itself against her outer lips, massaging up one side and down another. Over the two months they had been together, she had taught him many techniques she enjoyed, and he used them to great effect. His immense strength and eagerness to please also worked greatly in his favor.

“Mmm,” She mewled, breathing heavily. Her hips moved of their own accord, and her lips swelled and heated as her arousal grew. She gripped his horns as he circled the bud with his tongue without actually touching it, stretching the pleasure and denial out as long as possible. Dumont had learned to tell when she was enjoying it and when she began to find it frustrating, and as soon as he felt that anxious tension in her body, he flicked the tip of his tongue against the pearl, making her hiss sharply.

He growled lowly, vibrating his tongue against her, the tip of it teasing her entrance as the broad part of it contracted against her clit, rubbing it up and down. Her entire pelvic area was sandwiched between his jaws. Her fingernails raked the back of his shoulders and across his neck.

“Inside,” She gasped, and Dumont obliged, thrusting his tongue into her roughly, quick and hard. She cried out, bracing against the wall hard. He held her hips fast in his grip so that she couldn’t escape and ravished her with his tongue. She was now making a lot of noise and he was a little concerned she would draw concerned passersby.

Finally, her orgasm crested and ebbed and she sighed in satisfaction, her eyes closed. He pulled her down from the wall, turned her over on her stomach, and pulled her hips toward him as be began unlacing his trousers.

“Yes,” She breathed. “Yes. Yes, please.”

Dumont lined himself up, saliva from his jaws dripping on her buttocks as he leaned over her, he pressed himself into her dripping wet entrance. She whimpered over and over as he slowly slid as far inside as he could reach before causing her pain and pulled back out again. He started slow, but quickly gained pace as time went on.

“Oh, fuck,” She said through gritted teeth.

He bent over her body and grabbed her by her waist, lifting her up so that she was flush with his body. She reached back and grabbed his horns, howling with pleasure and he slammed into her. He knew she loved the feeling of being held up by him like she weighed nothing more than a ragdoll while still being in complete control at the same time. She was always in control.

A door opened someone outside of the stall, and a voice called, “Is everyone all right in here? I heard screaming--”

“Fuck off, asshole, I’m getting laid!” Kharis shouted at the intruder, and the door shut again quickly. “Don’t stop,” She ordered Dumont. He was happy to obey.

He could feel the now familiar wall of ecstasy welling up in him, slamming into his body, reaching from his head to his toes, his body locking up, and he roared, spilling into her repeatedly. Under his hand, he could feel her belly swell slightly from the amount of his seed pushing its way inside.

As she lay under Dumont, boneless and gasping, and he rolled to the side to prevent crushing her, they heard the door open cautiously again.

“Are you sure--”

“FUCK OFF!” Kharis yelled, and the door slammed shut.

“You don’t have to snap at the poor man,” Dumont wheezed. “He genuinely thought you were being hurt. He was doing a good thing.”

“He was interrupting my play time,” Kharis said, unmoved. “He deserved to be chided.”

“I’m afraid we may have terrified him,” Dumont said. “He may never come into this stable again.”

“Good. Let him think it’s haunted.” Kharis got up, wiped herself down with a spare cloth in her pack and lay on Dumont’s chest, fully naked. “You know, I have thought about it a lot.”

“About what?” He asked, confused. “Haunted stables?”

“No!” Kharis said, slapping his chest playfully. He jumped, like he always did to make her laugh, though it didn’t hurt at all. “About bringing you to that place I told you about. I sort of left without saying anything to anyone, so I should probably check in so they don’t think I’m dead.”

“Why did you leave?” Dumont asked. “You don’t talk much about your family. Were they cruel to you?”

“No, not cruel, but we… were weren’t much of a family, really. I’m closer to you and the party than I’ve ever been to them, and I’ve known you all less than six months.” She lay her head on him and sighed. “I think we do love each other, just not the way normal families do. I don’t know if that’s a product of our station, or if we’re just not predisposed to familial bonds, or what. It’s just the way it’s always been.”

“That sounds sad,” Dumont said.

“Yeah,” She agreed. “I suppose it is a little sad. But I do miss them. I should go back, and I’d like you to come with me. The others, too. What do you think?”

“I’ll go wherever you ask,” Dumont said. “I’m with you.”

“Aww,” She hugged him, or tried to, since her arms had no chance of making the full circle around him. “You’re so sweet.” She sat up on him, straddling him, with her hands braced on his chest, looking down at him with a shrewd expression.

“What’s the matter?” He asked.

“If… if I told you I had lied about some things, would you be angry?” She asked tentatively.

“It depends,” He said, cocking his head curiously at her. “What things?”

“Well… My name isn’t Kharis, for starters.”

“Oh. What is it?”

“It’s… Enania. Enania Enjor.”

“That’s very pretty,” Dumont said.

“Thank you,” She said, laughing nervously. “But that’s not all.”

“Tell me, then,” He said. “Don’t be afraid.”

She smiled softly. “Well… I’m not a ranger. Well, I am, but I’m something else, too. Something I was before I became a ranger.”

“Which is?”

She winced. “A princess.”

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