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kedsandtubesocks · 9 months ago

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TAYLOR!! TAYLOR

Oh my god…I think I died reading this???? Like my soul astral projected out of my body and I’m typing this to you from another realm of existence because holy shit was that SUBLIMINAL!!!! 🥹😭

Okay but first off this idea is absolutely incredible and the way you made this work so seamlessly, we love a legend and icon!

Then the work you put into unfolding the story for us - giving us so much yet not enough as both reader and the audience was phenomenal truly, like you let us explore the world without dragging it out & instead let it slowly seep out like a fog we had to sort through was just!!! GAH! And the way that all mirrors Dieter’s abilities??? And that haziness??? It’s haunting in the most profound ways

And okay…but the moth imagery and metaphor my beloved HELLO!!

You think of those electric lamps under your grandfather’s porch that drew in moths with dust brown wings. Moths that ended up dead on the wooden floor.

But he laughs. Laughs and your moth wings get caught in the light of the white gleam of his fangs.

I want to live in these lines and in that imagery and metaphor, I can’t get over it seriously. It’s beautiful and brilliant and i want to write full on close reading passages on it and how stunning it is and just gush and ramble about your talent!!!

Also this imagery here:

A warm tongue saturates the skin of your neck and you realize there are devil faces in the wood carving of the ceiling, your head tipped back and arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Oh my god what utter horror and beauty?

And the way this all reflects into Dieter himself? The demon hidden away like the demons in the ceiling and the moth that’s both horror and brilliance and the way you not only portrayed that but didn’t once stray away from Dieter’s core of being charming and smug and almost a bit…dangerous??

Yeah I really am obsessed with all of this babe I can’t even stop myself from rambling about this but I gotta cause I’m making a fool of myself LMAOOO

Thank you so much for sharing this magic with us and for all the love and care I can feel radiating off of this amazing piece!!! 🌹🥀🖤💕✨

Hey I love you and I’m having thots about vampire!Dieter and his hedonistic lifestyle and his lavish parties at his estate and how he invites you up to show you his private rooms and he-

Oh, you mean like when he asks you about your--

Pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

Warnings: flirting, a bit of blood, maybe dubcon due to The Thrall but i think it's safe to say we all want It from vampire!dieter, unbeta-ed because i needed to write something or someone was going to die

A/N: look at what you've done @sp00kymulderr you've gone and given a perfectly good fic LORE

“Theories.”

“What?”

Dieter’s smirk pulls his mouth and his head towards the floor-to-ceiling windows. He rubs his fingers together, his wrist dangling over the edge of the deep-backed leather chair. The clean lines of his Armani pants and wing-tipped shoes give him the impression of leaning forward, as if he intended to tumble right through those windows and out into the party below. The music is muted, smothered, but the lights illuminate the sky like the sun beneath the waves.

“Your theories. About all of this. About my dad, granddad. Everyone who’s ever walked in here – press or not –,” he lazily drags his gaze up from your ass to your tits for the third time that night, “– has had some wild theories that I just love to listen to. Little bedtime stories to put me to sleep. So let’s hear ‘em.”

You had doubts about this dress when you left your apartment but you have to dig your nails into your palms to keep from tugging it back down over your thighs because you know you have something every time Dieter looks at you. Maybe not for long, but you might be the first person in fifty years to walk out of here with something to say.

Your heart suddenly fluttering higher in your throat, you turn away towards the movie memorabilia lining the walls in glass shelves to give him the angle he’s been inching towards all night. Over your shoulder, you see his eyes drop – predictably. You let the line out a bit more and bend at the waist to examine the original glove from The Natural.

“I’m sure you’ve heard them all, Mr. Bravo. The mystery around your family is nearly as old as Hollywood itself so I’m sure there’s nothing I can say that you haven’t heard before. Which reminds me . . .” You straighten up and, by some miracle, he meets your eyes, gaze no longer wandering. “Why me?”

His mouth curls, but it’s the glint in his eyes that shows razor-sharp teeth.

“I’ve always admired the brevity of wit, but you’re going to have to be more specific.”

Your jacket creaks when you cross your arms, eyebrow arched. “I’ve been with The Mezzanine for five years with half-a-dozen bylines under my belt. There’s a list of more experienced reporters a mile long. Why, after ignoring every press inquiry for the past twenty years, did you ask me to interview you? Oh, and consider this my first official question.”

With an expansive inhale, Dieter draws himself to his feet. He takes a few steps towards the windows, just before the light catches the shine of his shoes.

“Give me a theory and I’ll answer your question.”

You frown at his broad shoulders. Streaks of fuschia and green and gold tangle in his curls, setting the ends on fire. You think of those electric lamps under your grandfather’s porch that drew in moths with dust brown wings. Moths that ended up dead on the wooden floor.

You find yourself inches from his left shoulder.

“That’s not how these things usually go, Mr. Bravo.”

“Humor the old hermit.” He grins and the smell of spice and smoke and lineage blooms in your nose. You school your face, swallowing down your beating heart.

“The mob. So why me?”

Dieter chuckles. “The mob?”

“Happened to Frank Sinatra, didn’t it?”

“I don’t appreciate the comparison,” Dieter sneers. “Blue Eyes was an asshole and an idiot.”

You turn towards him, your turn to grin. “Speaking from personal experience?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Unbelievable.” You roll your eyes and wander back towards the cabinet. It’s now you notice the odd placement of the couch and chairs in front of the memorabilia. As if hours were spent staring at them. “Do you have anything to drink?”

Dieter blinks at you. “Uh. No. Do you want me to call up for one?”

“No, Mr. Bravo, I want you to answer my question: why me?”

“Because you care.”

Dieter turns away from the lights, the music, the night and stares at you. The teasing sparkle, the sardonic grin – they’re gone. A different man stands before you – one with the same beautiful set of curls, with the same soft eyes. But you see something on his face you didn’t think was possible: yearning.

“Everyone who ever came here only wanted a piece of me. Of this. Of my legacy. In fifty years, no one has ever wanted to know the magic in the movies. The magic of . . .” Dieter laughs quietly, joylessly. He looks around and runs his tongue against his upper teeth. “The mob? C’mon, you can do better than the mob.”

You take a step forward. Electric lamps be damned.

“I’m doing a terrible job of interviewing you.”

“Hardly.” His lips pout before pulling back into a grin. “We’re getting to know each other.”

Another step.

“One for one?”

“Of course.”

“Then in debt to the US government for World War II propaganda. Why did your grandfather step out of the spotlight at the peak of his career?”

“Ford was as much a nazi as any of them and no Bravo would ever stoop so low, so no. And Grandpappy Bravo had health issues.”

“He was forty-five.”

“Forty-two, actually. The same age I am now.” He grins down at you and you find yourself staring up at him. Had his eyes always had that golden circle in the center?

“Give me another theory.”

“Drugs – boring but reliable. Why was your father so secretive about his role as a financial backer during the 60s movie revival?”

“He hated the attention, as much as a Bravo can. You’re getting closer.”

“It was drugs?” You tear your gaze that had somehow slipped to his lips back up to his eyes, but Dieter shakes his head.

“A drug of some kind, but not the kind you’re thinking of. A powerful drug. The most powerful.”

“Yeah? And what would that be?”

“Life itself.” Again, you see his teeth and without your control, your heart leaps into your throat. You narrow your eyes against the brilliant light of his mouth.

“Why do you care so much about my theories?”

“Because you’re not asking the right questions. You’re close, but not quite.”

His hand floats against your jaw, fingertips crackling in the millimeter above your skin, and that spicy scent floods your brain in a sudden avalanche that makes your knees wobble. You huff, dizzy, a fog settling across your mind, and you put a hand against his chest to keep you from stumbling. His thumb drags against your bottom lip and that bright sensation becomes a focus point by which the entire universe revolves around.

His eyes are entirely golden now.

“Ask the question you’ve been begging to, darling.”

You swallow through the haze, through the pounding of your heart, through the heaviness of your knees, and the wetness in your underwear.

“No,” you mumble, “I . . . Dieter, you’ll laugh.”

“Try me, sweetheart.” His other hand joins his first, cradling your jaw, dragging you closer. “I want to hear it.”

“I think you’re a vampire.” The words dribble off your numb lips but even through the lag, you know you’ve screwed up. Something has gummed up the crevices of your brain, but that’s not the thing to say to the highly-eccentric social recluse you’ve put your career at risk to interview.

“Dieter, I’m sorry – I-I-I didn’t mean–,”

But he laughs. Laughs and your moth wings get caught in the light of the white gleam of his fangs. His hand slips to your waist as his thumb brushes your cheek, golden eyes anything but angry.

“I knew you were clever.”

Your nails dig into his jacket where you don’t feel a heartbeat. Your knees want you to fall forward into him, but your elbows struggle as the last shreds of a survival instinct.

“Dieter–,”

“Shh, darling, you are smart. Too smart for your own good. You knew the truth the second you walked in here and you did it anyway. But that big brain won’t let you believe it until you see it, so breathe, darling. Breath and it will be over in a minute.”

He lowers his face, his cold breath against your neck cracking through the haze, icing your heart. You whimper, afraid –

Afraid he’s going to kill you.

Afraid that you’ll let him.

A warm tongue saturates the skin of your neck and you realize there are devil faces in the wood carving of the ceiling, your head tipped back and arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“No crying. I will make this very good for you.”

You blink and the ice in your heart melts out the corner of your eyes, tears running off your cheeks.

“Will I die?”

Dieter lets out a noise that’s a whine and a groan all at once. “No. We’re not nearly done having fun.”

And he bites you.

Euphoria erupts across your skin, an electric pulse waking up every sense still left in your control. You shudder, then draw him closer. He groans, not a single drop of blood escaping to the carpet or your shirt or his jacket. He eats well and clean and there’s a part of you that entertains the idea of him losing control.

But as quickly as it comes on, everything fades. Blackness comes on, thick and fast, and you hear him pull off your neck more than you feel it and his tongue is the last sensation you feel.

“No, darling, by the end of this, you’ll be begging me for more.”

His promise is the last thing you hear before the darkness closes in on you completely.

#like all of this lore and character exploration??? and how you still let us sit with the poetics of the atmosphere? I will never recover #literally I’m gonna think about this for the rest of the day I’m not joking #holy shit this…I want this injected into my veins #thank you again for sharing this with us you incredible magical writing wizard that you are Taylor #Dieter 🤎#fic recs ✏️#fic rec ✏️#Taylor’s tag 🌵✨

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wangxianficrecs · 4 years ago

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Follower Recs

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Hi! First of all, thank you so much for running this blog, It's become one of three reasons why I haven't yet committed arson (I jest but the Feeling is true). [Hee, hee, hee.] I have a rec for you! It's called "wholesome life usurp immediately" by comfect on ao3 and it's. So good. It's unfinished but the author updates it literally every other day if not faster! It's a lovely fic, I hope you enjoy it. 🌻

Wholesome Life Usurp Immediately

by Comfect (T, 55k, yunmeng sibs, qingli, wangxian, WIP)

Summary: Wen Qing examines Jiang Yanli at Cloud Recesses and has a cure for her poor cultivation.

Now there are Three Prides of Yunmeng.

Everything kind of fixes itself from there.

~*~

hello mojo!! I would really like to recommend standing still (but we keep going) by lwjromantics!! it's really good!!

standing still (but we keep going)

by lwjromantics (justfantaestic) (T, 5k, wangxian)

Summary: Lan Wangji supposed that if having to take care of little A-Yuan and Mo Xuanyu and having to look at the reminders of Wei Ying in their habits and mannerisms was punishment for his actions, he would willingly take it and flay his own back open.

— There are children in the Burial Mounds.

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hii mojo! I just read this cute fic and I loved it so I wanted to rec it :)

Word Up, Talk the Talk

by Larryissocute (G, 2k, wangxian)

Summary: It wouldn’t have been a problem (it really wouldn’t) if they weren’t best friends. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what good deeds he did in his past life to be blessed with Lan Wangji as a friend nor does he know what evil things he did to be cursed with being only a friend to Lan Wangji.

Or the one where Wei Wuxian kisses Lan Wangji and then runs away.

~*~

Hey! Love your account — and proud of you for taking the hiatus you needed. [Lol - it was really nice!] Idk if you take fic recommendations, but I'd love to rec Roots by ardenrabbit. Fantastic characterization, I really love it!

Roots

by ardenrabbit (E, 46k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary: After Wei Wuxian's duel with Jiang Cheng, he finds that stab wounds aren't so trivial when he doesn't have a core to heal them. He wakes to find Lan Zhan in the Burial Mounds with him, already beloved by the Wens and making himself at home. When Lan Zhan tells him that he wants to stay and offers more help than Wei Wuxian knows how to accept, he fears that it's only too good to be true.

Lan Wangji knows that Wei Ying is doing the right thing, and he couldn't live with himself if he let him do it alone. For everything Wei Ying has sacrificed, Lan Wangji is determined to give something back to him.

Hanguang-Jun has turned his back on the clans to join the Yiling Wens and their demonic cultivator leader, and every clan has a different opinion on the matter.

~*~

Hello! I wanted to rec a fic on ao3 called "Restoration" by jelenedra. It's complete, an alternate universe of the sunshot campaign told nonlinearly. It has strong fairy tale and fae elements, with a touch of mystery. Bit of a fix it. Some delightful one liners, and the final ending imagery is just LOVELY. The fic deserves much more love. There's also some YilingWei, wwx not raised by Jiang, and sentient Burial Mounds elements. Enchanting read that keeps you enthralled and curious and intrigued.

Restoration

by jelenedra (M, 85k, wangxian)

Summary: They say he was thrown into Luanzang Gang by the man who killed his parents; they say that he is an immortal cultivator who had been in a deep trance until the Wen sect disturbed his rest and incurred his wrath; they say that he is the fierce corpse of a cultivator who had somehow regained his mind and his spiritual powers.

When Lan Wangji sees him for the first time, he understands why people talk.

Meng Yao wants safety. Xue Yang wants vengeance. The Sunshot Campaign wants victory. Yiling Laozu provides, for a price.

~*~

I usually read all your recommendations. Thanks for gathering all good recs of wangxian. I am in love with every single story your recommend especially the favorites. [I’m so glad!] I just wanted to suggest a fic i came across while searching for phoenix!wwx. Its a new story I think as author has published it today. The first chapter was very interesting that i thought ill recommend it you and know your opinion. The legendary phoenix and his dragon -Devipriya and Hidden Path to Love by ShadowTenshiV

Hidden Path to Love

by ShadowTenshiV (G, 78k, wangxian)

Summary: Wei Ying is a servant working at the Gusu Lan castle. One day he enters through a secret passage way connected to the library where he meets a Lan for the first time. He may have left quite an impression, gaining the other´s attention and slowly becoming friends. They would like to become something more, but a servant can´t be with a prince, but maybe his secret can change that.

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hello mojo! i was wondering if I could make a fic rec? it’s called “and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow” by izanyas. it used to be on ao3 but the author has since moved it to eir own website and has started posting updates there. i was wondering if this could also act as a signal boost bc some old readers on ao3 might not have known that it is now on another website. Author's been through a tough time so I think it deserves a lot more love.

For new readers, please mind the warnings in the prologue and the beginning of each chapter! it’s omegaverse and a very heavy read as it deals with (possible spoiler) off-screen rape that results in an unwanted pregnancy, as well as secondary gender oppression which runs deep, but for people who can bear it the writing, worldbuilding, and emotions are truly spectacular.

and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow

by izanyas (E, 270k, wangxian, WIP, link is to WordPress rather than AO3)

Summary: Cangse Sanren was the first of her kind to become a cultivator. Talented, passionate, free-spirited, she bested everything that ever came her way until the very end.

Jiang Fengmian refuses to see her son deprived of that same freedom.

~*~

Hello Mojo! I dunno if this's been recced before, but here's another ficrec for you? It's complete, on ao3, "The Third Young Master of Qishan Wen" by KouriArashi. It's 'if wwx was raised by dafan wen, but gets recognized as 3rd heir due to his skill' scenario. Some really nice banter and characterization. Wwx and lz get together before the sunshot campaign. Story follows the live action but diverges into au, and does some cool callbacks to original canon. Love Meng Yao in this! [Oh, I know KouriArashi from my last fandom, I love her works!]

❤️The Third Young Master of the Qishan Wen

by KouriArashi (T, 139k, wangxian, my post)

Summary: The fic where Wei Wuxian is adopted by the Dafan Mountain Wens instead of the Yunmeng Jiang.

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Hi Mojo! I can count the number of times I’ve spoken on Tumblr on one hand (I’m shy heh) but I found this fic that I think you and others would really like? I’m a sucker for emotional hurt/comfort and this was just too sweet for me not to share (did I go through 20 pages of bookmarks just to make sure you don’t already have it? Maybe …) [Aww, you can do a sidebar search in the bookmarks for the author’s name. But I hope you found other good fics by carding through the whole catalog!] It’s “Close Your Soft Eyes” by timetoboldlygo! I also wanna say thank you for all the hard work you put into this blog! It’s a treasure beyond compare. :D [Thank you so much!]

Close Your Soft Eyes

by timetoboldlygo (G, 12k, wangxian)

Summary: When Lan Wangji woke, the first thing he noticed was the slip of paper, folded and tucked between his index and middle fingers, not Wei Wuxian’s absence. His fingers trembled as he unfurled the paper. A donkey with a little smile beamed down at him.

On the nights that Wei Wuxian was gone, Lan Wangji woke to gifts on his pillow.

~*~

Hey Mojo! I love your blog it is beyond awesome! [Thank you!] I was wondering if you would consider reading JaenysBloodcourt series "A Bond to Takes us home"? The summary is weird but I like the fics and would love to hear your opinion on LWJ POV (it's part 2). Part one is Mingxian but part two (Wangxian) reads as a standalone for the most part. Anyways, thank you for all your hard work! <3 [I’ll put it on my list!]

A Bond to Take Us Home

by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 10k, mingxian - nmj/wwx, wangxian, series in progress)

Summary: Wei Wuxian has two soulmarks. He has two soulmates that seem to be the opposite of him. During his first life he meets both of them, loves only one and longs for the other. In his second life, the one he loved first is dead, and the one he pined after is pining after him.

These are the many tales of his soulmates and the raucous they made across the cultivation world.

Some are dark, some are light. Beware.

~*~

I forgot to send this in for Mother's Day a few weeks ago, but have you read dragongirlG's "into the light of a dark black night"? It's a short canon divergence where Mama Lan escapes the Cloud Recesses after spending one last, heartbreaking night with her sons. It's so beautiful and bittersweet! [Oh, ouch. I just read this author’s time travelling juniors au, but hadn’t seen this one.]

into the light of a dark black night

by dragongirlG (T, 3k, Madam Lan & sons)

Summary: The night that Wu Yuhua, formerly known as Madam Lan, plans to escape from the Cloud Recesses, she runs into an unexpected complication.

That complication comes in the form of her younger son A-Zhan running up to her door and kneeling in front of it, hushed whimpers escaping from his throat.

Wu Yuhua knows it's not the full moon, knows that it's not the one day a month she's allowed to see her children—but like hell is she going to leave her six-year-old son out there trying to stifle sobs in the snow.

She opens the door. "A-Zhan," she says, bending down and reaching out a hand. "Come in, my sweet boy."

On a snowy night in the dead of winter, Wu Yuhua, formerly known as Madam Lan, unexpectedly spends one last night with her sons before escaping from the Cloud Recesses.

~*~

Hello queen I’d like to recommend for ur follower rec posts Avatar: The Untamed Waterbender by KouriArashi. Banger of an ATLA au, def the best one I’ve seen. It’s a WIP but the author updates pretty regularly and it’s all around an A+ fic [Oh, yes, I’ve been waiting for this one to finish before I jump in.]

Avatar: The Untamed Waterbender

by KouriArashi (T, 123k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary: You know the drill. Long ago, the four nations lived in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.

100 years later, Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli find Wei Wuxian sealed in an iceberg.

Featuring: avatar WWX, waterbending JC, firebending Wens, airbending Lans, earthbending Nies and Jins, Jiang Yanli in possession of the brain cell, et cetera.

~*~

[My ko-fi.]

#follower rec #wangxian fic rec #I HAVEN'T READ THESE YET #wangxian #mdzs #follower recs

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years ago

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Hello Steph 😊 Do you have any BAMF Molly or just some good fics that feature Molly? I need some Molly love at the moment because I just read a fic where she "turns to the drak side" so to speak, and my heart 😭😭😭

Hey Nonny!

Ah I did a few comm. recs lists recently with Molly, but here are what I can offer you from memory, LOL. PLEASE add your fave Molly fics, guys! PLEASE NOTE these are fics I’ve read, and please check the sub-headings for a TONNE of stuff I haven’t read!! Big title so I can find it later LOL.

MOLLY PLAYS A ROLE

See also:

COMM RECS: Coming Out To Molly

COMM RECS: Molly with Women

COMM RECS: Molly and Greg Push John and Sherlock Together

COMM RECS: Molly as a Villain

Santa Knows by Itsallfine (T, 1,719 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas Party, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Matchmaking, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock) – Sherlock and John both get exactly what they want from the Yard's secret Santa exchange. Pure holiday fluff.

What John Doesn't Know (Won't Hurt Him) by blueink3 (NR [T], 4,392 w., 1 Ch, || S3 Fix It, Pining Sherlock, Snippets of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Fluff and Angst, Five and One, Hopeful Ending, POV Sherlock) – Five people who see Sherlock's scars before John Watson. But Sherlock's secrets were never something he could keep from his blogger for long.

Thirty Three Hours Without John Watson by Bookaholic, mybrotherharry (M, 6,232 w. || First Kiss / Time, Pining Idiots, BG Mystrade, Crackish) – Sherlock can SO TOTALLY survive without John Watson. It should be a piece of cake. AKA the time when Sherlock braved grocery store lines for milk, purchased and gave away a box of tampons and figured out what the X-Factor is. Greg and Mycroft didn’t sign up for this shit. Next time, they are going to the Bahamas.

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

Love or What You Will by miss_frankenstein (T, 31,987 w., 11 Ch. || College/Uni AU || Professor John, Ph.D Student Sherlock, Pining John, Poetry, Falling in Love / Slow Burn, Light Angst, Happy Ending) – John is an English professor who specializes in War and Post-War Literature and Sherlock is the brilliant yet impossible Ph.D. student assigned to be his TA because no one in the Chemistry Department is willing to put up with him. And - somewhere between Waugh and Plath, e-mails and takeaway, novels and villanelles - they fall in love.

The Wrong Wagon by DancingGrimm (E, 35,663 w., 20 Ch. || Alternating POV, Molly/ John [Molly pines for John], Public Sex, Casual Sex, Obliviousness, BAMF!John, Awkwardness, Angst & Humour, First Time, Virgin Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock) – Molly sees John in a new light and realises that she may have hitched her horse to the wrong wagon...or something like that. John pines for Sherlock and worries what he will think if he ever finds out. And Sherlock doesn't know what Molly's up to...but he knows he doesn't like it.

The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (M, 49,513 w., 84 Ch. || S4 Fix-It, Epistolary, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Parentlock, Past Abuse, Coming Out, Internalized Homophobia, Questioning Sexuality, Mental Health Issues / Therapy, Angst, Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most. An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete. (This fic is rated T except for one very clearly marked and easily skippable chapter, which is rated M.) Part 1 of The Pieces that Fall to Earth

floating through a dark blue sky by Lediona (M, 58,966 w., 15 Ch. || Notting Hill AU || POV John, Celebrity Sherlock, First Date / Time / Kiss, Past Drug Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

This Thing All Things Devours by cypress_tree (E, 63,844 w., 15 Ch. || In Time AU || Science Fiction, Dystopian Universe, First Meetings, Action / Adventure, Romance) – In 2169, time is money—literally. Humans are genetically engineered to stop aging at 25, when the numbers on their arm start counting down from one year. When that time is up, they die. The only way to get more time is to earn it, borrow it, or steal it.John Watson lives day-to-day in the crowded slums of Zone 13. He never imagined living any differently—until he meets the practically-immortal Sherlock, and helps him on a case to track a local time-thief...

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU || BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Stars Move Still by BeautifulFiction (E, 96,022 w., 5 Ch. || Magical Realism, Demons, Slash to Pre-Slash, AU, Happy Ending, Souls) – "What could I want so desperately that would make me sell my soul? What could possibly compel me to surrender the part of myself that makes me who I am: the source of my magic, my self-control, everything?”

Definitions by siennna (T, 101,528 w., 12 of ? Ch. || Dev. Rel., Pining, Fluff and Romance, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Cuddles, Girl’s Night, Texting, Virgin Sherlock, Drunk Sherlock, Background Mollstrade, Hair Petting, Laying on Lap) – Sherlock’s journey in defining his flat mate and stumbling through the muddled world of emotion. {{This feels complete; the chapter count is listed as ? but I feel like it is done}}

between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 107,998 w., 215 Ch. || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years. Part 1 of between each beat

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w., 21 Ch. || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, John’s Sexuality, S3 Rewrite, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, John’s Gay) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w., 13 Ch. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

Mise en Place by azriona (M, 161,004 w., 28 Ch. || Restaurant (Kitchen Nightmares) AU || Sherlock is Gordon Ramsay / Celebrity Sherlock, Restauranteur John, Harry Plays Prominent Role, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, Cranky Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn't have much choice. There's only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Mise en Place

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #molly fics #molly plays a role #my fic recs #Anonymous #long post

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raineeskiesabove · 4 years ago

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His Truth | Albedo x Sucrose HC & Oneshot (ish)

Using the hc that Albedo is a homunculus, but the nature of this creature ranges across works of fiction I’ve seen, so the rest is based on my own interpretations;;

These two may be brainy in their respective fields of study, but romance is an entirely new ballpark for both of them

They’re both complete dorks when it comes to “wooing” a special someone, and are too shy to admit their feelings. At least for Sucrose, anyway. Albedo’s feelings are a bit more complicated, as he questions whether or not his feelings are even real.

Albedo isn’t human. His feelings aren’t human. It wouldn’t be fair to let Sucrose grow so close to him. It would only be a matter of time before he would lose control, losing whatever “self” he had managed to develop over the years.

At first, Albedo treated Sucrose like everyone else- slightly distant, but with respect. However, over time, he grew fonder of the other alchemist, of her devotion to alchemy and her sweet personality. Over and over, he’d insist that she could drop the “Mister”, but she never seemed to listen. It was this pressure, of Sucrose respecting him so much, that made him all the more convinced that she shouldn’t grow close to him. The real him wasn’t who she thought he was.

“Sucrose, this is a busy time of research for the both of us. Please keep all conversations short and to the point,” he would begin to say, using a purposefully cold and icy tone.

“Y-yes of course, Mister Albedo!” Sucrose would always comply with his wishes, even if his words stung a little. But she had the tendency to ramble, and simply figured that perhaps he had grown tired of her constant questions, observations, and other such things.

For a while, Sucrose accepted Albedo’s new terms, only asking for his attention when she knew he had a job for her. No more questions about his work. No more asking for guidance. Perhaps, she thought, he was testing how well she could research on her own! She knew she was lying to herself, but Sucrose would do anything to reassure herself that Albedo didn’t truly dislike her.

One day, Sucrose left town alone to collect some samples out in the fields of Monstadt. She hadn’t told anyone where she had gone.

By this point, Albedo was mentally tearing himself apart from the inside out, realizing that he could not bear the burden to live like this. He knew that this hurt her. He could see it every time they passed in the hallway- instead of offering a shy wave, she simply looked away and continued walking. She never visited him in his lab anymore. She never asked questions, told him about the subjects she was most fond of.

But what was more concerning were the changes his body undergone since he had shut Sucrose out. At first it was barely noticeable: a hairline fracture, what seemingly appeared to be a crack, running down from the bottom point of the star on his neck. The crack led to nowhere, and didn’t chip upon his inspection, so he was forced to leave it be. As the days passed, more and more cracks began to appear, now stemming from all sides of the star marking. Soon, the cracks caused the outer layer of his skin to chip off, revealing an unnatural, gold interior beneath. These areas were extremely sensitive, like the star on his neck, making work very difficult to accomplish.

Albedo fell into a state of depression, now without care for whatever happened around him. He could barely sleep at night from how intense the markings felt, but resisted the urge to show anyone. Unlike himself, who eagerly devoured stories of the unknown, the other seeing him would frighten them.

He spent the following days mindlessly doodling Sucrose over and over again. He’d drawn her before, already memorizing each detail down to the strands of hair on her head. Thoughts of her ran through his mind almost obsessively, and he simply couldn’t understand why. He cannot love. It isn’t real. He is hardly real. He needed to let go of her, but any attempt to detach himself proved fruitless.

Only one event, after almost half of his skin had decayed, roused him from bed. A knock at his door.

“Albedo?” It was Jean. “Have you seen Sucrose? No one has seen her since yesterday, and we checked her lab. She isn’t anywhere in town, and I’m getting worried...”

Sucrose? But she never left the city unless it was to accompany him- oh.

He was such a fool.

Pulling up his hood, leaving his hair down, Albedo opened the door swiftly, saying nothing as he passed Jean in a hurry.

The only lead he had to go off of was her elemental traces, which were already fading due to it being a day since her disappearance. Not to mention that he had to move slowly, due to how sensitive every movement felt.

Half a day passed, and Albedo began to fear the worst when the trail led to the Thousand Winds Temple. So many, too many monsters dwelled within this area. It was much too dangerous for one to go alone, especially for Sucrose, who lacked a particularly reactionary element. And by now, a steady stream of rain had begun to fall around him.

Finally, he found her laying lifeless against the cold concrete, surrounded by a Ruin Guard that had seemingly lost interest in her.

If one emotion he never felt was love, the other was anger. Pure, white rage that blinded every other thought telling him to be rational. These feelings were simply overwhelming, his heart feeling like it would burst at any moment.

Defeating the Ruin Guard in a monstrous explosion of geo energy, he rushed to Sucrose’s side quickly, checking for a pulse.

Weak, but alive. Severely injured, but still breathing.

“Sucrose... Sucrose, can you hear me?” Even in a situation as dire as this, Albedo felt his voice come out calmly and even.

At first she thought that she was dreaming. She had convinced herself that she would die out here, that no one would come looking for her. Especially not the one sitting above her now. Her glasses had long been lost, but instantly she knew who it was. Even the act of breathing hurt, but the relief of seeing his face caused a smile to bloom on her lips, a laugh to escape her throat.

“Y-you came,” she whispered.

“Yes,” was all he could say before the tears escaped him, running down his face relentlessly, falling onto the girl below. His sobs were strangled and raw, echoing throughout the plaza they were in. A stream of “sorries” and “forgive mes” were mixed throughout his cries, Albedo’s chest heaving from the sudden burst of emotion. Never in his life had he cried. Never had he experienced the true feelings of sorrow and regret.

She lifted a hand to cup his cheek, perplexed by the gold plating of it, but more concerned with the distress he was in. Never had she seen her cool and collected teacher so vulnerable.

To both of their surprises, her touch did not cause him to recoil, nor did it sting him. But rather, as she held her hand in place, the gold began to fade, again growing encased within his usual skin color.

He held her hand against his cheek tightly, now desperately holding onto it. He had almost lost her, but he wasn’t going to make the same mistake a second time. In terms of his condition, he didn’t understand why he had begun to decay, nor did he understand why she could repair it. But she simply could, and that was enough for him to accept that he needed her.

She insisted to now sit up, which he initially declined to endorse, but her insistence was enough to make him back down in his vulnerable state. Sitting in silence, she broke it with a nervous giggle, noting how both of them weren’t having a very good day.

Through his tears, Albedo couldn’t help but let a chuckle escape him, his forehead falling against hers. The movement caused Sucrose to freeze, shocked by his sudden and uncharacteristically bold move. In her trance, she barely noticed that he had guided her hand to the star on his neck, her touch causing a faint glow to emanate from the marking. Through his clothes, the two could see the rest of his gold spots lit up, the glow fading as her touch closed the openings.

“Mi- ah... A-Albedo, I don’t understand. Are you alright? The unusual markings on the surface of your body looked uncomfortable. Why... why was my touch so effective in counteracting them?”

“That is... beyond the realm of my understanding, Sucrose. But, I seek the truth of this world, do I not?”

She nodded, but secretly wondered what that had to do with her question.

“A long time ago, my master gave me one final task: discover the truth of this world. Days grew into months, months into years, and I never found an answer that I could accept. I grew worried that I would never be able to unravel the mystery presented by my master. Logically, this is likely an incorrect answer, but the truth of this world, my truth of this world... For now, I would like to define it as the love that I hold for you. It is... a bit of a foolish answer, isn’t it?”

“...no. No, not at all,” she whispered, closing her golden eyes. A small smile graced her lips, a gentle breath escaping her nose as her shoulders relaxed.

Perhaps it was only seconds, maybe hours, that they stayed rooted in this spot. But there was still one thing they both knew for certain, regardless of the passage of time around them. In the middle of this damp, abandoned site lost to time, Albedo and Sucrose shared their first kiss.

Eww the formatting HAHA;; Ma’am it is 130am wtf am I doing. I am so sorry if the writing and concepts make no sense lmao I fell down this rabbit hole and it became a pseudo oneshot that probably needs a lot of editing I’m too lazy to do rn. Til next time homies <3

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin impact albedo #genshin albedo #albedo #genshin impact sucrose #genshin sucrose #sucrose x albedo #sucrose #alberose #genshin alberose #albedo x sucrose #genshin impact oneshot #kreideprinz

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mycrofts-gunbrella · 4 years ago

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Severus Snape x Reader- Parchment and Cologne (Part One)

"Is it wrong? Like seriously am I completely bonkers?" You laughed to your best friend.

"Having a crush on our head of house/ potions master/ evil bat dungeon swooshy cape man? I mean it's not particularly great, Y/N, is it?" She laughed back. "Besides, why Ol' Snapey Boy when you could have Professor Lockhart? Now that, my friend, is man you could do you wonders.. if you catch my drift.." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and you couldn't help but smack her with your pillow.

"Honestly, (F/N), I often ask myself how I possibly bring myself to be able to tolerate you.. I open my heart for 5 minutes and get attacked." You smirked.

"It's because you love me really.. plus, I should be asking myself the same question. My 18 year old best friend is going all heart eyes over human Scar." You looked at her quizzically before she answered your oncoming question. ".. muggle movie reference. I'm honestly going to force you to watch Disney movies one day." She swore. You rolled your eyes at her for changing the subject and slumped back in your bed.

"Honestly what am I going to do? It's beyond 13 year old me's little crush now.. ever since he started properly teaching us last year and with all the revision sessions he offered me I actually really like him.." You sighed and borderline smacked your head against the headboard.

"Why him anyway? You seem to have chosen the only man who is in love with a cloak. Seriously, he takes that thing everywhere. I'm 99% sure it's stitched into the man's neck at this point." She giggled the last part to herself but you heard it all the same.

"If you actually bothered turning up to our revision session and didn't make me be the only person that shows you'd see that he's actually really caring.. he's even cracked a few jokes every now and then" you smiled to yourself. ".. plus he's hot." You both began to burst out laughing again before you decided it was time to turn in.

"Try not to dream of your lover boy, Y/N... you have a study session with him first thing tomorrow. Don't want to be all flustered." She winked before blowing the lamp out. Honestly she wound you up as much as she could but, she was right, you do love her really.

The hours of sleep seemed to pass by within minutes as you soon found yourself wandering the great corridors of Hogwarts to the potions classroom, knocking three times on the door before entering as you always do. With simple 'good mornings' shared and a book left in your normal seat you got straight to studying. Popping in the same strawberry gum you never seemed to run out of, you chewed quietly as you got to work. Typically, Snape would stay beside you and help you answer any questions you may have whilst also asking many more of his own. In the few months of studying with Snape it was evident that the two of you created some kind of bond, whether it be him simply asking you how your day has been or letting you in to some memories of his, Snape was definitely becoming more open and comfortable around you. And you loved it.

Today however was different.

"I do apologise but I'm going to have to work on a half prepared potion that's been left at the back of my classroom. Although I say 'half prepared' in the sense that half of it is now on the floor. How Mr Finnigan has even survived this long in the wizarding world is truly beyond me." He spoke, walking to the discarded cauldron and working on the mixture of ingredients.

"And you're making it for him? Now do correct me if I'm wrong Professor but that's a seemingly nice action. Are you feeling alright?" You joked, glancing behind you and warming inside when you saw the small smile appear on his face.

"Don't lose your head, Miss L/N. I simply do not wish for this entire thing to go to waste... besides, I need Mr Finnigan to have a perfect example for him to refer to when he comes back this afternoon to write a 4 paged essay on it." The smile raised to the side of his mouth and, should it have been anyone else, you'd have dared say a slight wink followed. You felt your cheeks turn pink and turned back to your book.

"What's with the formalities all of a sudden? 'Miss L/N'? You're making me feel like a child again, Professor." You attempted to distract yourself from looking at the man behind you.

"Well then I must insist you call me Severus in such meetings as this. Of course you must understand you're only permitted to say this when we're alone, Y/N." God you loved it when he said your name but he's really allowing you to go by his own first name? Your cheeks burned more and you felt your cool hands rush to your face to calm them.

"Seems fair, Severus." You felt his name roll off your tongue and it felt right. You turned behind you and saw a shade of red begin to dust the older man's cheeks as he gave you a curt nod. Silence pursued. Minutes passed and you felt yourself begin to shiver. Of course the one day you decide to leave your robe in your room is the one day it's minus seven thousand in the dungeons. You attempted to ignore the goosebumps appearing on your arms as you read through another passage of Snape's hand written notes for you. Your concentration lacked as you began to rub your hands over your arms and you became uncomfortable. "Hey Profe-uh Severus? I'm just going to go-" you didn't get to finish your sentence before a sudden warmth enveloped you. Confusion took over before you suddenly felt like your face was on fire. Severus Snape. Had. Given. You. His. Cloak.

"You were foolish to believe it wouldn't be cold down here, Y/N. I took you as one of my smartest students and yet you clearly lack common sense." He mused, a playful undertone in his voice that let you know he wasn't being serious. You stammered out a small 'thank you' before continuing back to your work. Why had he given you his cloak? The Slytherin common room was only around the corner; you could be back in less than 5 minutes. You decided to stop questioning it and pressed on. Time seemed to drag in the newly found silence until you began to have a very very strong smell of tea. The same tea Sev usually has on his desk before every lesson, but you hadn't seen it today. Next followed the distinct smell of old parchment and? Snape's cologne? You turned your head to find nothing but Severus stirring the last ingredient into his cauldron. Weird.

"Uh, Severus? Can you smell that? It's like the library in here." You laughed a little. "And, not to sound weird or anything because I obviously don't just walk around and smell you.. uh.. because obviously that's not normal.." you began to mutter incoherently before realising you were actually mid-sentence. "... but have you like sprayed your cologne? Or whatever you use? Because it's really strong... not that it's not a nice smell because it is a nice smell but-" you were cut off by raised eyebrows staring in your direction. Before you could even mention the fact it smelt like you were sitting inside a teapot Severus cut you off.

"What did you say?" He asked, looking at you as if you were a mad man.

"That I smell old paper? And your cologne? What's so crazy about that?" You questioned.

"Nothing. Nothing would be crazy about that. Except I've run out of my cologne and all the books are in the cupboard... and I'm brewing amortentia.." It was almost as though the world had stopped spinning. He was brewing amortentia? You knew exactly what that meant.. you'd been caught out. You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. Your face burnt and your mouth became dry as you tried to form even a single sentence. Snape cut you off once more by taking a deep inhale of the cauldron in front of him. ".. I smell.. raspberry shampoo.. peppermint tea and... that strawberry bubblegum those Weasley Twins sell in that little shop of theirs.." You froze again. "So.. you." You felt like you were about to collapse. "I smell.. you." Good lord Y/N, Severus bloody Snape has just told you he smells you in the amortentia.. MOVE.

#Severus Snape #Severus Snape x reader #Severus Snape x You #Severus Snape Imagine #Severus Snape Oneshot #Professor Snape #Professor Severus Snape #Harry Potter Imagine #Harry Potter x Reader #HP #Harry Potter #Reader insert

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a-queer-seminarian · 4 years ago

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I am trying to read more theology and I would love to know what texts have been most important to you? I am not a super academic person so things that are modestly accessible would be great, but also I am trying to push myself to read more challenging texts! ty so much!

Oooh what a fun question -- I’ve offered people book recs before, but never one that’s specifically the texts that have been most important to me.

To start, i recommend my #books tag on my other blog for way more books than the ones I’ll list here -- not every post in that tag is relevant to your question here, but some are. Here’s a list of the posts that are relevant to your request -- you’ll see that on most of them, I note how accessible vs academic or dense a text seemed to me.

a list of recs for theology that’s helpful in this 2020 climate of pandemic and protest.

a list of recs for books about being queer and Christian

And now for a list of theological texts that have been most important to me -- deeply impacting how I read the Bible, how I relate to God or to other humans or to creation, etc.:

The basics

I have to include Christian Doctrine by Shirley Guthrie on this list...

simply because it was the first book I read when trying to figure out what Reformed Protestants believe after growing up Catholic. It’s actually a fairly easy read -- it’s longish, and not like the most riveting book you’ve ever read, but dang it has great stuff in it. It made me way more excited to enter the PC(USA) denomination than I’d been before reading it -- before, I felt like i was mainly running from the crappy parts of the Roman Catholic Church; after reading it, i realized i could also be running to the beautiful parts of Reformed theology!

But yeah, if you’re looking for a book that helps solidify in your mind concepts like the Trinity, or sin, or divine inspiration....this is a great book for that! (Assuming you want to learn about those things from a(n LGBT affirming) Reformed Protestant lens.

If you wanna read tons of excerpts from this text before deciding whether you want to read the whole thing, I posted a lot of passages from it in this tag over here.

Inspired by Rachel Held Evans

this is the best book I can think of for non-academics who want to learn about reading the Bible in a way that confronts rather than ignores/accepts its more disturbing passages.

If you need help figuring out how to read the Bible without a fundamentalist / literalist lens, this is the book for you.

Holy Envy: Finding God in the Faith of Others by Barbara Brown Taylor

Very important if you want to practice a Christianity that doesn’t pit you against people of other (or no) faiths -- and very easy to read

Books that helped me develop a liberationist + queer + disabled theology

Justin Tanis’ book Transgendered was super important to me when i was first getting into trans theology...

However, the language in it isn’t particularly accessible -- it’s not horribly dense but I would now recommend OtherWise Christian by Chris Paige instead. Paige quotes from Tanis -- and many other foundational trans theologians! -- and does a great job of making their scholarly language a lot more accessible to non-academics. Ach yeah, OtherWise Christian is what you wanna read to get deep into the academia of trans theology without having to wade through the denser older books yourself.

If you do want to read some of Tanis’ book, you can read my fave chapters as pdfs here.

I’d also recommend Austen Hartke’s Transgender and Christian YouTube channel and my website blessedarethebinarybreakers.com for more trans theology presented in simpler language!

Disability: The Inclusive Church Resource by John M. Hull

Nancy Eiseland’s The Disabled God is also, like, foundational to a lot of disability theology but it’s not the easiest read. The last two chapters are the best part in my opinion.

For more great resources on disability theology, including some of my own writing (which is, I hope, easy to read), see this Google Doc i compiled once and also my disability theology tag.

Jesus and the Disinherited by Howard Thurman.

It’s a bit more academic / written more formally than some of the books on here cuz it’s older, but it’s also short and if you can get through even just the first two or three chapters you’ll have absorbed material that i promise you’ll be thinking about for a long, long time to come.

God of the Oppressed by James Cone

So foundational. Another classic by him is The Cross and the Lynching Tree. These books are both more academic but yeah, foundational stuff.

The only full text I’ve read by Gustavo Gutiérrez is On Job but I’ve read a lot of excerpts from other stuff by him...

You’ve gotta read at least a little bit of this guy to help you understand liberation theology as it originated in Latin America. Unfortunately, I do think he’s much more academic so not an “easy” read at all -- you could try to find other authors who sum up his ideas and works and offer fundamental excerpts in his own words, if you try to dig into something he’s written and find it too tough

But yeah, his book On Job in particular really helped me start figuring out “theodicy” -- the question of why there is suffering in the world / what God’s role in suffering is. But I had a lot of trouble figuring out what Gutiérrez was saying at a lot of points in the book, and I’ve been reading academic texts for like a decade now!! So if you try to read it and find it’s just too much, don’t feel bad. I only was able to get a real handle on this book after discussing it in a seminary classroom with a teacher helping us.

If you wander through my #theodicy tag, you’ll find my own understandings of suffering as shaped by On Job without having to read the book yourself! You also might like Everything Happens by Kate Bowler for a great look on suffering.

Native: Identity, Belonging, and Rediscovering God by Kaitlin B. Curtice (progressive Christian + citizen of the Potawatomi nation)

This book is truly incredible in that its language invites you in and reads like a devotional while making powerful statements about settler colonialism and assimilation and stuff. So so so good.

When it comes to books that have deeply enriched, like, my “personal” prayer life / relationship with God:

Learning to Walk in the Dark and An Altar in the World by Barbara Brown Taylor (Episcopal background)

This author’s books are all so easy to read, and so so so full of wisdom. If you want your theology served to you in a less “so this is theology” kind of way and more of a devotional kind of way, this is the author for you.

Also she’s super popular among non-academics and academics alike so it’s easy to find people to discuss her work with!

An Altar in the World is about finding God outside of church, in the everyday, in the “secular”...

Learning to Walk in the Dark is about forming a faith that can survive and actually nourish you during the struggles of life (as opposed to what she calls a “full solar Christianity”)

A Tree Full of Angels by Sister Macrina Wiederkehr (Catholic nun)

this one is a little bit more formal in style, but not bad if you read it like i did, which was as a devotional where i’d only read a section or two each evening. It focuses on finding the divine in the most mundane of things -- see here for some posts sharing short excerpts from it.

Wow this got long....sorry about that! And if you were hoping for more shorter works, like articles instead of whole books, let me know and I can dig through my seminary stuff and share my faves!

#wellofloneliness #recs #books #theology #about me #list

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ingravinoveritas · 4 years ago

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Hello! So I recently found out I have adhd and I’ve been doing a lot of research lately and it could be just my need to relate everything about myself to my interests but I noticed some adhd traits in David? But this is just from what I’ve observed in interviews and whatnot and I’m in no way a specialist, however I know you know a lot about neurodivergency and autism and since autism and adhd have a lot of overlap, you might be able to tell me if I’m correct in my hypothesis? Obviously we can’t know for sure, but you probably could make a much more informed assumption than I could. Thank you for all your work and being so so lovely! Xx

Hi there, Anon! This is such a sweet message, thank you! I truly did not expect this at all, and I’m honored that you felt comfortable enough to ask me such a personal question.

I do want to offer a few caveats and things to keep in mind before I dive into my answer, though. The first thing is that most of my ideas about David have been shaped through the lens of him with Michael Sheen. After watching Good Omens, I became a fan of Michael’s, having initially been drawn more to him. I gradually also became a fan of David’s and started watching him in interviews and such--but I don’t consider myself an expert in all things Tennant, and still tend to defer to my lovely friends @faggghaggg and @fckedupnerd, who have had much more experience and acquired wisdom observing David on his own.

The second thing is that while I do have knowledge of neurodiversity, I can only speak from my own experience, which has mainly been with autism and not ADHD, so I am also hypothesizing and making educated guesses. But I want you to know that no matter what I or anyone else say about David, it absolutely does not invalidate your feelings. You have every right to see David as you do, and my opinion does not make me right or you wrong. I know it can be difficult not to let the things other people say define you, but you are the only one who can decide who you are.

All that being said, it’s important to mention that, like autism, ADHD is a spectrum. Some people have fewer support needs and are not as affected by their ADHD (for a variety of reasons)...and some people have much greater support needs and are profoundly affected by their ADHD. Also, the longer people are in the world, the more they tend to develop coping strategies, and with David both being nearly 50 years old and in the business that he is in, I feel like he has learned many way to either cope with or compensate for behaviors and actions that could be perceived as ADHD.

The difficulty for me is that what I have seen a lot of in David is enthusiasm, and I am not sure how to differentiate that from ADHD. David gets really, really excited about certain things--interests and hobbies that he loves--and there are many instances where that excitement manifests as hyperactivity. One immediate example that comes to mind is of course Doctor Who, and how he seemed to bounce with energy just at being on the set and having the opportunity to live out his childhood dream. Another example is his appearance on The Graham Norton Show a few years back, when he was promoting Much Ado About Nothing with Catherine Tate, and this adorable moment ensued:

He’s trying to remember his next line from the passage that Graham has just read, and quite literally jumps up onto the couch, bouncing about and looking at her frantically as he does so. And what this translates as to me is that David seems to use his entire body to process certain things. Whether he’s excited, or nervous, or anxious, or even sad, the energy he feels fills him up, and he has to let it out somehow or he’ll just explode (metaphorically speaking).

Another additional challenge is that I feel like David has also spent years suppressing and tamping down on that response, that hyperactivity. There was something he talked about in an interview with Stephen Mangan from about a month ago, where he confessed three “bad” things that he’s done in his life, and one of them was an incident in primary school where he was getting laughs from his classmates while trying (and failing) to tie a tea towel on his head. He was thoroughly enjoying the growing laughter that each attempt garnered...right until his teacher said “David John McDonald, sit down and stop showing off.”

This happened when he was five years old, and it affected him so profoundly that he still remembers it to this day. But it also started a pattern, which I think has threaded its way through his life, of “Don’t do this, mustn’t react like that, it’s not proper. Behave yourself.” More interestingly, there seem to be people in David’s life who are a continuation of that pattern--discouraging his enthusiasm, his hyperactivity, and any outward expression of that energy. And then there are people who are a disruption of that pattern--who encourage David to be open and passionate and share that energy wherever possible.

I think that’s why I love David with Michael so much, because Michael is the latter. Michael is a “man of enthusiasms” himself (as David described him on his podcast), and he has created a safe space for David to share that full body response freely, without any fear of shame or judgment. I also think it’s why David and Michael are so able to take the piss out of each other, because of that safeness and the love and trust between them. I don’t think David has many people he can do that with, so for that reason (and many others), I’m very, very glad that he and Michael have each other.

So I think there are elements to David’s behavior that could be construed as ADHD, but to what degree and how much they overlap with his enthusiastic nature combined with his instinctive tendency to downplay/hide it makes it hard to say. I hope this has helped to answer your question, Anon, and I wish you all the best in your journey with your new diagnosis. Thanks for writing in! x

#anonymous #reply post #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #this man is adorable and an international treasure #and i really am glad he has Michael to feel safe around #David's all festive and excited like a kid and Michael just sits back and enjoys it #and it's beautiful #David always deserves to feel loved and not judged #and i want to slap his teacher with a fish #neurodiversity #adhd #autism spectrum #observations #long response #discourse

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captainsimagines · 4 years ago

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Titanic || H.S

Part Four || “April 10, 1912″

“I’m the king of the world!”

Warnings: This book contains mature themes and discussions, such as gun violence, emotional and physical abuse, attempted suicide, mentions of blood, character deaths, heavy sexual content, and reference to the real maritime disaster of the 1912 cruise liner Titanic.

Bells were ringing for miles as crowds formed both before and at the ports, the buzzing of excitement and utter joy radiating through the doors of your overly-crowded automobile. Cheers from all the awaiting passengers contradicted your current mental state. For you, it was just another ship - simply new. You had stayed in overpriced rooms before, eaten at countless never-ending buffets, been given towels with a special “scent” which simply had a hint of cheap perfume, and even eaten from plates and utensils engraved with real gold. So the size of this ship, the luxury it supposedly had, or the brilliance of its story, did not do much to excite you.

You rolled a piece of thread in between your fingers and looked out your car window at the street. You could feel their shouts vibrating from the street below you, adding an extra rhythm to the automobile that seemed humanly impossible. You watched people dance and drink, and it took you only a moment to realize that these people weren’t even going to travel with you. They were simply here to enjoy the momentous atmosphere, watch history in the making, and say goodbye to their loved ones.

With your mother and Cal in deep conversation and George focusing on the outside world as well, you actually allowed yourself to smile. Perhaps this was a good thing - to travel back home and see just how much had changed. You admit, the political and social world was most likely unchanged and that London was much more lenient to who joined certain higher-ranked circles, but America must have some good qualities they adopted over the years. New inventions, food, culture and religion, play-writing - anything that you had an interest in you tried to think of as brightly American. You removed your hat to comb your hand through your thick hair and to wipe the excess sweat building on your hairline, the summer air becoming a little too musty for your liking. Your smile remained bright as you reached the long lines of actual passengers, both second and third class, going through their health inspections and bag checks. Lots of them would stop and stare at the first class carriages and automobiles that passed them quickly, some annoyed and some fascinated. It never bothered you when the lower class mocked you or spoke ill of the current political and economic systems, as you whole-heartedly agreed with them. If your late father taught you one thing it was that the system was deeply flawed and would remain that way as long as those in power who have never experienced injustice in their lives were allowed to live believing in business as usual. And yet, the total irony of you marrying into one of the wealthiest and greediest capitalist families in Europe was forever going to feel like a knife twisting into your back.

Just as your car passed the last round of third class health inspections, you leaned further toward the window to get a better view of the group of children laughing and pushing each other side to side. You grinned widely as you passed them, but your face fell almost instantly as you noticed the look of disgust from an older man. In the short seconds of that encounter, he had looked through your veil of upper-class protection and judged the color of your glowing skin, something that most people in your social circle in London chose to ignore. With your father’s influence and money, this issue was never even labeled as such, but to someone in another world, you were likely worth less than the piece of paper granting you passage on board.

You swallowed hard and leaned back against the red velvet seat, pulling your hat right back on to avoid the stares of the real world.

Over on the other side of the docks, just a mere distance from all the packed commotion, Harry held onto his sister’s hands as she said her goodbyes.

“Don’t you go spending all that money on art and women, you hear?”

Harry gasped and faked a gag, smiling down at his sister. “How rude of you to even think of me spending money on art I can simply draw myself and women I can woo with no fee.”

Both his sister and mother leaned in for a giant shared hug, each one already imagining the next time they would see each other.

“It’s only a few months. You’ll be in the states with me before you know it,” Harry snuggled closer to his mother as she hugged him tighter.

“I know, but it’s the first time you’re leaving home on your own and…” she choked on a gasp, barely holding it together. The amount of prayers she recited last night didn’t seem efficient and she made a mental note to say double the moment she returned home.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll write as soon as I’m settled.”

“Just be careful, okay? I hear they’re not as kind as we are here across the Atlantic,” his sister laughed, giving him one final, tight side squeeze and handing him his carry-on bags.

“You know, I heard that, too,” Harry joked.

“Be careful, we’re not joking,” his mother said, grabbing his chin gently and turning his face toward hers. “We’re not joking. Be safe.”

Harry leaned down and kissed his mother’s forehead, rubbing her back up and down rapidly as if that somehow kept his own tears at bay. But he grinned brightly and placed another kiss on his mother’s forehead and on his sister’s, and reached down to pick up his two carry-ons and his father’s briefcase.

“I promise. I love you both. The stars will tell you where I am and who I’m with.”

His sister was the first to let him go, “Alright, my little scientist! Get going and make us some money!”

Harry laughed loudly, patiently waiting for his mother to release her grip. “Not a scientist, but an amateur astronomer!”

His mother sniffed into her elbow and quickly rubbed her cheek, looking away momentarily before she collected herself and gave Harry her best broken but proud smile.

“Love you.”

Harry nodded with deep understanding, leaned in for one final goodbye kiss, and crossed into the massive crowd. He looked over his shoulder and yelled out for both of them.

“I promise to make my girls proud!”

It looked like every other ship you had ever been on, minus the shiny new floors and number of installed elevators. It almost angered you how disappointed your own disappointment made you, like nothing ever made you feel truly elated, truly surprised, truly ecstatic. But as you ignored the looks of other passengers and the excessive whining from your own mother, you started to see the little details other passengers were sure going to miss. Like the delicate stitching in all servant uniforms, the woodwork on the massive clock leading into the dining area, and the use of electricity in even the thinnest corners of each room.

Even the servants knew better than to comment on your true royal status with Cal beside you, who was in fact failing to find even one flaw on the ship. You quite admired that actually - something you could fully agree on.

“This is so gorgeous,” Cal whispered beside you, your arm intertwined with his. You nodded in agreement, absentmindedly keeping the same pace as him. It took a few more minutes to finally make it to your living quarters - three separate rooms, each with their own living rooms and bathrooms. You thought it too much for yourself and wondered why your mother didn’t request adjoining rooms between you and her.

Without even entering your room first, your mother ventured into her own and started ordering her maids and servants around. You breathed in deeply, ready to see your living situation but were gently pulled back to let Cal walk through the door first. You stopped momentarily, puckering your lips in slight annoyance but followed behind him nonetheless.

“Even more beautiful than the hallway!” Cal laughed after his joyous exclamation, falling lazily on the first couch he saw. You couldn’t help but giggle at his childishness, watching him with a tiny grin as he reached over to play with the fresh flowers and their heavy vase.

“Perhaps the open sea breeze makes a person absolutely giddy because I have never seen you smile this much from inanimate objects,” you said, placing your handbag on the circular table and removing your gloves.

Cal rolled his eyes playfully and jumped up from his laying position to run to the brunch table full of sweets and bread, a first-class greeting for Titanic’s most distinguished guests. He popped the first sweet he saw into his mouth, closing his eyes and savoring the flavor. He groaned softly and waved you over, already picking up the second serving to give to you. You walked slowly, eyebrows furrowed due to his laid back nature, but decided to give in and lean your head forward, mouth open to be fed. He placed the sweet on your tongue and awaited your reaction as you chewed, grinning widely once your eyebrows raised in amazement.

“I am never wrong!” Cal laughed, picking up some bread instead, and offering you a piece. But before you could reach over and grab it, Cal threw it in his own mouth and ate it. You gasped playfully, mouth wide open and genuine laugh escaping from it. Cal smiled wide enough to crinkle his eyes, and he reached over to wrap you in a backwards hug, with your back pressed against his chest and his head in between your neck and shoulder. You howled with true happiness, your sounds becoming louder as he proceeded to step with you all over the room and tickling your side at the same time. With enough strength you pushed him away and ran to the outside deck with Cal hot on your trail. He ran after you, dodging the servants with luggage in their arms and their questions of where to put them, following you out on deck and gripping your wrist in time to twirl you around beautifully. This time you ended up face-to-face, gripping onto each other and chests still racking with laughs.

The crinkles on both sides of his eyes remained, and you felt your heart stir for him. He was always so rigid but in this moment he was carefree and young, absent from duties and absent from the raunchy world he was so accustomed to. Here you saw a side of him that you could definitely get used to. But that’s just what it was - a side, not all of him. Before you could assume more of the negatives of this situation, Cal leaned down and captured his lips with yours. His lips were smooth and experienced, moving slowly against your timid ones. And just how quickly the kiss came, it disappeared. The minor moment of intimacy was too little for your liking, but it still counted as the first time you weren’t disgusted by Cal’s attitude or personality. It confused you how swiftly your mind changed and concocted the perfect fantasy of Cal and your upcoming marriage. Like a spell’s flame ignited and burned your whole internal wall down.

Before either of you could comment, you were interrupted by a servant who began rapidly excusing himself. He exited the deck and left you there, still in Cal’s arms. You wanted to speak but Cal simply smiled, kissed your forehead, and let you go.

“We must finish unpacking and decorating if we want to be front row during the Captain’s welcome speech.”

And with that, Cal stepped back into your living room and began helping the servants put up the paintings he had dismissed you on earlier. You stood there perplexed and could only muster up enough energy to lean over the railing and watch the waves hit the side of the ship and the docks you still hadn’t departed.

Apologies sprung from Harry’s mouth as quickly as he ran, pillowcase full of clothes over one shoulder and his father’s briefcase with all the family’s important documents and the freshly printed photographs in the other. He bumped into dozens of shoulders but even as he yelled his apologies, he didn’t look back. He was finally leaving for the promised land of opportunity, a place where he and his family could establish themselves and their business. New flavors introduced to the Americans would for sure boost business, and Harry was so excited to be the first of his family to step foot outside of London. Just being at the docks was the farthest his family had traveled.

The ship was vast in length, somehow seeming larger as Harry ran toward the third-class boarding area. He could see the crew was beginning to clean up, unhitching the ropes from the dock and removing the boarding stairs. His feet were already burning, but he sprinted as fast as he could, yelling at them to wait for his arrival. People stared at him, throwing themselves out of the way as he crashed into shoulders and knocked bags off horses. The background check and health inspection lasted longer than he had expected, all of the poking and prodding seeming more purposeful than necessary.

One particular horse came close to knocking Harry off his feet, and his belongings scattered over the dock floor. Harry cursed under his breath and quickly gathered his bags back into his arms, looking up every so often to check if the ship had departed without him.

“I got this for you, man.”

Harry searched the floor for his important briefcase and but instead saw it held out for him to take. Harry thanked the man for his help, and before he could say anything else, the man spoke up cheerfully.

“Come on, we got a ship to catch!”

Harry beamed at his new acquaintance and sped down the docks beside him. With two of them side by side, almost everyone jumped out of their way as if it was instinct. They continued to laugh at each other with each short tumble the other took, enjoying the quick pace at which they were traveling.

They both stumbled onto the attached railing that was being pulled away from the main entrance of the ship. The officers asked for their tickets almost immediately and Harry rolled his eyes.

“We’re passengers, here.”

Both Harry and his running mate handed over their tickets for quick inspection.

“Have you been through all inspections?”

The man behind him held up his bags in complete annoyance, “Why do you think we’re late?”

The officers just nodded, letting both of them through the door. Together they hopped onto the ship and dashed down every corridor, following the signs for third-class passengers.

“I swear I didn’t think we’d make it!” Harry shouted, still muttering tiny apologies to those he shoved as he passed.

“Luck seems to be following me around lately,” the man laughed, following Harry down the flight of stairs.

“What room are you staying in?”

“B60.”

“You’re joking.”

The two stopped to compare tickets, scoffing in astonishment.

“Hello, roommate!” the man smiled. “Name’s Drake.”

Harry put one of his bags down on the floor and pushed his briefcase under his left armpit to extend his right arm out for a handshake. “Harry.”

“You stopping in Ireland or New York?”

“Going all the way to New York City,” Harry beamed, and he picked up his bag again and started for their shared room.

“Awesome, same. I’m actually from Montana but since New York will be the only stop in the states, I figured I would just hitchhike my way home.”

“I thought I heard an American accent,” Harry chuckled. He rounded the corner and came face-to-face with the room number they were assigned. He opened the door and peeked his head through to make sure everything was decent for the door to be held wide open. Once the coast was clear, Harry opened the door widely and threw his heavy luggage onto the bottom bunk in the far corner.

“Oh, awesome. I get top bunk,” Drake cheered, also hauling his bags onto the bed. Harry ducked into his bunk as Drake jumped up onto his, the two settling in quite easily compared to the unorganized chaos outside their room.

The small room was designed to offer the least comfort possible, but it was still better than most of the rundown apartments in the middle of London. The walls were white, with the ship's pipes extending across the ceiling and down the side of the adjoining walls. Two brown blankets were folded on top of each bunk, and a pillow with minimal fluff was tightly tucked underneath the bedspread. The room offered one sink and three bars of wrapped soap, toilet paper, and an unlit lantern that would be useful for late night trips to the washrooms. Even with such limited offerings, it was way more than Harry expected.

“How many other people are joining us in our room?” Harry asked while grabbing the two blankets from the end of his bed for a quick nap.

“Two other men, I believe. Pretty sure that’s what the two empty beds across the room are for.”

“Oh. Oops.”

Harry laughed at himself and snuggled deeper into his blankets, letting out a deep and relaxed sigh.

Drake leaned over the side of his bed to look down at Harry, a confused grin on his face. “You’re seriously going to take a nap and not explore the ship?”

Harry winked one eye open and turned his head slightly upward. “After this nap.”

Drake pondered for a moment, but he silently agreed, and became victim himself to the comfort of cotton blankets and a hard mattress.

The Captain spoke so eloquently, so loud and coherent, that his welcome was felt by everyone in the crowded first-class lounge area. He was met with praises and generous words as he greeted the crowd and his crew, tipping his head slightly as if to nod and remain mostly nonverbal.

Cal, of course, wanted to put his name into the Captain’s hat, so he pulled you along absentmindedly until you were in front of the Captain himself. As Cal droned on, you noticed how the Captain was practically trained for this, the tipping of his head and low grunts of amused agreement speaking for themselves. He was an elder man, around his mid-sixties it seemed, with pearl white hair neatly combed over toward the left side of his head, and a thick beard that matched his serious look.

As Cal began mentioning the architecture of the ship and asking the Captain’s crew just how fast the ship was able to go, the Captain turned toward you and held his hand out. He gave you a warm smile, introduced himself and proceeded to place a delicate peck on your gloved hand. You smiled back but had to contain the chuckle scratching its way up your throat as you caught a glimpse of Cal’s look of bewilderment.

“You must be the beautiful child of the famed American-Indian Lieutenant. The King of all Aztec riches and oil,” the Captain praised.

You nodded, “His one and only child, yes.”

The Captain’s smile grew impossibly bigger.

You continued, “My father’s legacy branches farther than the oil industry. I am proud to say he was funding countless important causes.”

The Captain beamed, “I have heard! Civil rights, the fight for free land, uh… what am I missing?”

“Equal rights for women.”

The Captain chuckled, “He was quite determined, I may say. Ridiculous, but determined.”

Before you could say anything else, Cal sweeped in to take the same hand the Captain had kissed earlier.

“Yes, my fiance’s bloodline sure loved to mix the order of things. When we settle in America we’re mainly going to focus on the railroad and mining industry.”

You gave a scarce grimace.

“Railroading! Invest where the money is, Sir! Art, automobiles, electricity, and dare I say civil rights!” the Captain laughed, patting Cal on the shoulder and leaving to greet the other passengers.

Cal stood still for a second and although you wanted to comment, you knew better. Instead, Cal seemed to knowingly pinch your hand a little too hard to the point you winced. But he cleared his throat, let you go, and simply walked the other way.

Their short nap made them miss the ship’s departure, but the second they awoke, Drake and Harry dashed through third-class lounging to the bow of the ship. The nice cool breeze pinched Harry’s cheeks as he ran, the faint feeling of ocean droplets flying through the air.

They reached the very tip of the front, cautiously looking over to somehow calculate the exact speed at which they were going. Dolphins raced each other beside the ship, acknowledging they had an entertained audience on board.

“You don’t think the ship’s gonna hit them, right?”

Harry let out a loud and uncontrolled laugh, “Well, now I do!”

Drake climbed onto the railing, carefully balancing himself with one hand gripping the thick iron strings. He stretched out his free arm, staring off over the horizon and enjoying the feeling of a rushed breeze slapping his chest.

“I swear I can see the Statue of Liberty already!” Drake yelled.

Harry grinned and climbed onto the railing as well, mimicking Drake’s position as to not accidentally fall overboard.

“Oh, this is madness!” Harry screamed, his hair flying all over the place. But he seriously could not contain the giant smile that widened with each new jump of a dolphin, Drake’s howls of joy, and with the ever changing color of the bright blue horizon.

It seemed to all be coming together - the colors, the voices, the American dream. Harry could feel the excitement in the pit of his stomach, and he swore it could not grow any larger for risk of actually exploding. But similar to his pondering back home in his chilly room, that luck that Harry had following him around was definitely to blame for such an adventure.

Harry raised a clenched fist in the air and joined Drake in all the howling.

“I’m the king of the world!”

Dinner went as expected. You were quiet and polite, only speaking when spoken to, and the same tunes of violin screeched beside your ears. It made you miss more gentle rhythms, more upbeat sounds, and a much more excited band. European music was beautiful, but it seemed rich individuals only enjoyed the same three songs.

You drew a warm bath in your private bathroom after saying goodnight to both your mother and Cal. You weren’t expecting any further intrusions, and you swore that if any knock sounded from outside while you were in the bath, you would kill them. You had reached the end of your tolerance for today. And no matter how much you tried to prevent it with cold water on your face, vanilla candles, and your own private batch of special herbs, the first stages of a long migraine sneaked their way through.

You lay in the warm water thankfully undisturbed, big toe playing with the tub handle and a glass of champagne in your hand. It was all quiet now, the only sounds being your breaths and the tiny bubbles in your bath popping almost silently. Without another thought, you placed your champagne down on the side table and sucked in a deep breath, plunging your head underneath the water. Your thick hair swam in every direction, tickling your shoulders. You kept your eyes tightly shut and counted.

Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.

Once your lungs felt too constricted, you came back up and rubbed at your eyes. You cleared your nostrils and rubbed at your lips, the outside reality still unchanged. No noise, no new presence - just calmness.

And the water was becoming cold.

Please tell me what you think and if I should continue! Please also let me know if you would like to be tagged in any updates. Reblogs would certainly help this story reach even more people. Thank you. - xxMoni

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mortemtale · 3 years ago

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𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Mortemtale is an open-world adventure game set in the beautiful country that is The Kingdom of Monsters, though also referred to as Monstra. In this expansive land you will find yourself many adventures, whether you wish to follow the main storyline and help the Kingdom recover from grief, or you’d rather explore on your own to see whether you’ll make friends with villagers, delve deep within darkened caverns, scale the highest mountain, or try your luck in unravelling the deep-rooted secrets of the land’s Adept Alchemist—though do be careful in this endeavour, for the consequences might leave permanent results, and you wouldn’t want to ruin this world forever; do you?

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖊𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌

In the beginning, Mortemtale was nothing but a vague backstory where my character, Valeria, had come from. I had no proper lore for what it might have been, and that it was simply just a destroyed universe that Valeria had escaped from. However, as I began to try and flesh out her backstory and relationship with sans, I noticed that I began to struggle with that original idea, so, I started to experiment.

I have always been fond of both dark and light fantasy aspects, Gothic architecture, and Steampunk. I began with taking all those ingredients and mixing them together, and with just a dash of inspiration from 40K Warhammer, Lord of the Rings, and my own dream journal, I soon started to form a proper picture of what I wished for Mortemtale to look and feel like.

The story I’m writing for this universe is an experimental passion project, and it’s going to be full of flaws, as I’m not an expert on world building, nor am I a highly skilled writer. I am still new to all of this, and I’m learning new skills and words as the months go by, but Mortemtale is my cherished little creation, my perfect-imperfect story.

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝕮𝖆𝖘𝖙

🜄 Ellis Umbra

Ellis is a teenage human who finds her way into Monstra, the kingdom of monsters. Coming from a background of poverty and slavery, she is naturally mistrusting towards those she meets and has a tendency to lie to make herself seem more friendly and appealing, though this is more so out of fear for what others might do should they know of her true origin. She is relatively soft-spoken, but her words can easily turn sharp and venomous should she feel uncomfortable or offended in any way. She is curious and adventurous, and her desire to live and explore Monstra is higher than any other want within her, though she was sorely disappointed to find out that even this country has its own struggles, and with the ongoing unrest brewing between Monstra and the kingdom of Sur, she’ll soon find out just how complicated her peaceful haven truly is.

🜁 Ingram Serif / Papyrus

Ingram is an avid adventurer, a successful herbalist and perfumer, and amongst the greatest architects behind the modern reconstruction of the Citadel itself, being a huge influence in how the relatively vast and empty cathedrals and towers were properly filled with new halls, rooms, passages, and homes for the slowly growing population of Bright Home. He is kind and friendly, and his mind is rich with knowledge as he shares some of his brother’s desire to learn more about the world they live in. He takes much after his mother’s personality, Vanora the witch, who would often take him with her on her own travels around the land itself. He cares deeply for his brother, and he’s concerned about his strange behaviours as of late, though he tries not to worry too much. Unbeknownst to many people, he keeps many secrets close to his soul, and any attempts at prying will be met with clear distaste and rejection.

🜃 Valeria Elderwood

My original character that inspired me to create my first alternative Undertale universe. She is an apprentice alchemist and potions maker under the great Moguntia Serif himself, though she may have also accidentally become an archivist, as Moguntia’s ever expanding library keeps her busy with work; whenever she isn’t practicing her alchemical skills, that is. She is a naturally inquisitive and peaceful monster, though her inner strength succeeds that of most of her kin as clear trails of human traits are present within her. She prefers to not talk about this.

🜂 Moguntia Serif / Sans

The elusive alchemist himself. Moguntia is an enigma, one many may remember as a wild man in his youth who took pleasure in both hedonism and debauchery alike; much to the displeasure of his parents, though more so from his father. Only after Lord and Lady Serif's tragic passing did Moguntia change completely, growing withdrawn and often shutting himself within his castle, away from prying eyes. Those who happen upon him on the streets will say that little seems to have changed about his attitude, as he’s always had an affinity for dramatics and acts of eccentricity, yet all will say how unnerved they are to be in his presence as his eyes, gold and red, seem to bore through them like a beacon of wretched fire. None can say how he came to walk with a cane, it is simply something he began using one day, and his answers to all questions remain vague. He is pleasant and polite enough, but none of it seems genuine to those who briefly meet him, and all will say that they’ll pray you will not have to shake his right hand, for though it may not burn you, it will leave its mark upon your skin, sending tremors and promise of doom to your deepest dreams.

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖌𝖓𝖘

: ̗̀➛ Moguntia Serif

: ̗̀➛ Ingram Serif

: ̗̀➛ Valeria Elderwood

: ̗̀➛ Ellis Umbra

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𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘

- The end notes on my ao3 will have the music I listened to whilst writing that specific chapter. It is purely for my own satisfaction, as I'm often curious about what helped motivate/inspire me to keep writing certain scenes.

- Mortemtale isn’t literally going to be an open-world adventure game, as I am no game developer. It is a written story imagined as a game within my mind.

- I cannot stress enough how this universe might (and possibly will) be a little all over the place. I dislike writing slow-burn stories as I greatly struggle with both concentration and motivation, but I have a lot of ambition to make this ever-present daydreaming project of mine come true, so please, have patience with me. I am trying my very best.

- The Map of Monstra.

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Beware: Gory scenes may be mentioned / hinted at.

#Calling into the Void #Val's Library #Mortemtale #Passion Project #This post will be edited many times #So may the Map #Until the day I've finished it all

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

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I Won’t Let You Be The One That Got Away

Vasco x De Sardet

Word Count: 8.2K Warnings: Angst, Canon-Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Explicit Language, I feel the need to say ANGST again.

Author’s Note: Y’all this is, and I cannot stress this enough, super angsty. Be prepared to cry and hate me for a couple thousands words. Also, Happy Valentine’s Day! ‘Cause we all need angst on VD! Enjoy! -Thorne

Constantin’s death hit everyone equally. No one blamed the young governor though, all knowing that in the end, there wasn’t a trace of him left that hadn’t been twisted into madness. But of all the people closest to him, no one was more affected by Constantin’s death than De Sardet. They tried their best to comfort him, but words of consolidation could only go so far for the Legate who had to take the life of the man whom he considered his brother.

They buried Constantin in a remote location, no one but the small grouping of De Sardet’s companions and a few others knowing where. Petrus had given the sermon, a few simple words to bless the life of what it once was. Síora and Aphra laid flowers on the mound of dirt, both consoling the other as they cried. Vasco had placed his personal mariner’s cross beside the flowers, and Kurt laid bottle of whiskey next to it. They took their places back beside De Sardet and waited for him to give his own personal item. It never came. De Sardet merely stared in silence at the stone with Constantin’s name carved onto it.

One by one the mourners began to leave, starting with Sieglinde and Manfred, followed by Admiral Cabral and Madam de Morange, until all that was left was the small group. And slowly, they dispersed too, providing their final words to De Sardet as they returned to New Serene, leaving Kurt and Vasco with the Legate. Kurt and Vasco shared a look before the mercenary nodded, placing his hand upon De Sardet’s shoulder, simply squeezing it, then he left.

The Naut moved closer to him, gently resting his head on De Sardet’s shoulder, hand curling in the others. He felt the man squeeze his hand in return, to the point that Vasco almost winced from the iron grip, but he didn’t let it show—De Sardet had always been a man of few words, preferring to let his actions speak for him, so Vasco knew that the hold meant his lover was truly in pain. And Vasco felt it as if were his own, heart breaking with every pulse.

“What can I do, my Tempest?” he whispered, tilting his head to look up at De Sardet.

“Can you bring back the dead?” De Sardet replied.

Vasco sighed heavily. “I wish I could.”

The man shrugged. “Then you can’t do anything.”

They fell into a silence after that, and the Naut felt like it was stretching their hearts miles apart. Suddenly, de Sardet’s hand left his as he pulled away.

“De Sar—”

“You should head back to New Serene,” he interrupted, not looking at Vasco as he knelt down in front of Constantin’s grave.

“I want to stay with you.” Vasco countered, but before he could take a step, De Sardet monotoned,

“I wasn’t asking you, Vasco. I was telling you.” He tossed a cold stare over his shoulder. “Go.”

That hurt. That hurt Vasco more than he’d ever care to admit, and he wanted to argue. Wanted to beg and plead to let De Sardet allow him to help, but he knew some things had to be done alone.

He nodded stiffly. “I’ll wait for you in New Serene.” And De Sardet gave him no reply as he turned away and made his way back.

***

When De Sardet finally returned it was well into the next morning. His footsteps seemed to unfreeze every lip, sending them into a gossiping frenzy, but from the look on the Legate’s face, he could care less. The group tried to engage him, ask him how he was, but De Sardet completely bypassed them, passing through the doors that led to the upstairs of the palace. Vasco and Kurt followed out of concern, but once De Sardet passed through Constantin’s doors, the flicking of the lock came after and they knew he wasn’t coming out anytime soon.

“What…” Vasco started, turning to look at Kurt. “What do we do for him?”

“All that we can,” he responded.

“Do you think he’ll come out soon?”

“I…don’t know,” Kurt replied, but it seemed like he wasn’t too sure of it himself.

***

Three of their companions had returned to their respective homes within the month, their own responsibilities calling them away. All that was left were the two captains, one refusing to be assigned anywhere but De Sardet’s side, the other staying for his heart.

They tried everything they could think of to coerce the Legate from Constantin’s room, but to no avail. De Sardet wouldn’t even speak, hell, he didn’t even make noise. He’d blocked the passage from the kitchen’s with heavy boxes, and not even Kurt could shove them off. He didn’t eat, and Vasco was sure that De Sardet didn’t sleep either. For all he knew, De Sardet just sat in the room and mourned.

Vasco spent all his time outside the doors simply talking to him. It was weeks before he even heard some form of response from De Sardet, and that was only the pressure of him sitting against the door. The Naut took the other door, pretending they were sitting side by side and that the wood wasn’t between them. He spoke of anything and everything. Of his travels, of his childhood, anything that he hoped would get a response out of his lover. Until one day when he mentioned the position Cabral had offered him.

***

He climbed the well-worn steps and turned the corner into the parlor, stopping when Kurt rose from the seat in front of the doors.

“Anything new?” Vasco hoped, heart sinking when the coin guard shook his head.

“Nothing,” Kurt responded.

The Naut sighed and nodded his head. “Go then. I’ll take over for the day.”

Kurt gave him no answer save a tipped head before turning his attention to the door. “Green Blood?” he called. “Your captain is here.”

No response came from inside save a shift, telling them that De Sardet was moving to rest against the door and Kurt glanced at Vasco before leaving.

Vasco grunted as he settled against the door, taking his tricorn in his hands. “It’s beautiful outside, my Tempest,” he murmured. “You should open up the window and take the fresh air in.”

While he held out a hope for an answer, he was used to the silence in its wake, and Vasco simply moved through it, telling De Sardet about his day. Of waking up to the birds singing, to still feeling odd at being served breakfast by a maid, to visiting his former crew to check up on them.

“They’re coming ‘round to find a new captain after Ruben,” Vasco commented, eyes shifting to his hands as he hesitated, “Actually…they want me to come back. Admiral Cabral has offered me the rank of Commander of the Fleet.”

He briefly drew his gaze to the door when he felt a shift. “It’s a prestigious position…one of quality and impressive feat for someone of my age.” He paused. “I turned it down though…I told her I was staying here on Teer Fradee…with you.”

Vasco felt the pressure of the door shift, and listening closely, he heard De Sardet moving around until he came back, then the sound of scratching reached his ears. Was De Sardet writing something down? It had been almost a month and a half since they’d seen him. Maybe he was finally coming back out? Maybe Vasco had finally gotten through to him?

His golden eyes flitted down when a piece of folded parchment slid under the door and he picked it up, heart beating wildly in his chest in anticipation of his lover’s words. Vasco flicked it open, and when his eyes scanned the paper, his heart sank.

You should take the position. I’m of no use to you as I am. Don’t stay of some misguided heart and let my grief keep you here when where you truly want to be is out on the oceans.

Vasco couldn’t believe what he read. Couldn’t believe that De Sardet would say something like that to him. He spun, grabbing hold of the door handle, and when he tried to speak, it came out through a tight throat, hoarse and hurt.

“How dare you! How dare you assume I’m here because I am misguided!” He pounded against the door with a gloved fist. “You’ve no right to assume what I want when you’ve locked yourself away from the world!” Vasco didn’t mean to let that slip, but he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t animosity because of De Sardet’s actions.

“I am here because I love you! Because I care about you!” he yelled, warmth starting to bleed into his eyes. “If you would only open the door and let me help you!”

He pounded against the door again. “Open the door and talk to me! Goddamnit! At least look at me if you’re going to try and send me away!”

Vasco’s words it seemed, fell upon deaf ears because the door never opened, and he saw De Sardet’s shadow fall away from the door.

“You are a coward, De Sardet! A damned coward!” Vasco shouted before collapsing with his back against the door, pulling his knees to his chest. He buried his face in them and let the cloth soak up the tears that escaped his eyes. He stayed for a few moments longer before deciding to leave.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he said hoarsely, though something told him it would be for the last time.

***

New Serene was supposed to be the grandest escapade of Serene. Sold to adventurers and nobles as a wild and beautiful place teeming with riches and wealth. Compared to regular Serene, Captain Vance decided it was exactly the same. Though he was excited to see the vast amounts of natives that lived within the city, so at least the stingy attitude of nobility didn’t follow over.

That being said, Vance had absolutely no idea where to even begin the search for the Governor of the Congregation. His father’s old maps were worn with age, almost illegible, so if the man had decided to go off into the wilderness, Vance was in a bind. He figured the best way to start would be with the governor’s palace, but first he had to check in with the admiral of New Serene and unload the Seahorse.

***

He didn’t know what to expect when the guards led him into the palace. His only run-ins with nobility tended to be whenever he let them board to take passage to another location, and most of them were pricks. Pleasantly though, the young man standing next to the throne welcomed him with a smile.

“It’s not everyday that a Naut captain comes to the palace,” the man said. “My name is Adrian. To whom do I owe this visit to?”

Vance tipped his head—he wasn’t fond of bowing. “Captain Vance of the Seahorse, your excellency.”

Adrian smiled, and held out his hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain Vance.” He shook the Naut’s hand firmly. “But I assume you didn’t come to simply greet me. Is there something I can do for you?”

“I’m here to see the governor,” Vance replied, eyes scanning the room. “Is he in?”

Adrian nodded. “Governor De Sardet is upstairs in his study. May I ask the reason for your visit?”

“My father is an old friend of his excellency’s.” Vance’s smile dropped and he murmured, “I don’t think my father is long to stay in this world. I wished to relay it to Governor De Sardet.”

“Of course,” Adrian nodded sympathetically. “I’ll show you to him.”

As they climbed the stairs, the young man added, “I hate to bear some bad news though. Governor De Sardet isn’t of mind to see many people these days.”

“Is he unwell?” Vance questioned, ignoring the urge to run his fingers along the paneled walls.

“Not unwell in the mind…just in personality. He doesn’t like visitors when he’s working.”

“I thought working required meeting people on the throne?”

“Ha, hardly. I take care of most of that work for him. He finetunes everything.”

“You are his understudy then?”

Adrian tipped his head side to side. “Officially I am the Legate of the Congregation on Teer Fradee, the position he once held. Though I assume all his lessons are to train me for governor.”

They neared the door and he turned, holding out a hand for Vance to wait. The Legate walked to the door and knocked, two quick raps. “Governor De Sardet? There is someone to see you.”

“I’m busy,” came a muffled reply. “Tell them to come another day.”

Adrian glanced back at Vance, an awkward smile across his lips, and the Naut sighed, walking up to the door.

He knocked harshly. “My name is Captain Vance of the Nauts.”

“I don’t care.”

Vance rolled his eyes and tried, “I am the son of Léandre d’ Arcy.”

For a brief moment, there was no response from inside the room, and the two young man stared at each other.

“…Come in,” the voice replied, softer this time.

Vance breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door, stepping inside. His first impression of the man was that he was exactly like his father had described to him when he was younger, but this man was older now, hair silvered, age showing across his face and hands. But it seemed that age didn’t stop his body as he stood and held out a hand for the Naut to take.

“I always knew I’d run into him again, even if it was through his children.” De Sardet said, and Vance shook his hand.

“You’re sure I’m not some imposter using the name?” he questioned, and the governor chuckled.

“Positive. No one besides your father and myself know that name.” He looked him over. “So, why are you here?”

As much as Vance wanted to inquire about his father’s old life with the governor, he decided the more pressing issue was his father’s life now.

“I’ve come to ask you to board the Seahorse and travel to the Naut island,” he said, and De Sardet’s brows rose in surprise.

“Well, that’s a request if I’ve ever heard one.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why?”

Vance frowned. “My father’s health has been steadily declining over the past few years. I believe he is reaching his end.”

“Ah,” De Sardet murmured, “You have my condolences.”

“And I appreciate them,” Vance answered, but met the governor’s eyes. “You’re all my father talks about now. I know that he wishes to see you again though he believes it not likely.”

“It grieves me that your father is reaching his end, and I would make that so, but I have too much to do here,” he lamented, and Vance shook his head, voice taking on a firmer tone.

“You don’t understand, Governor De Sardet.” He pointed to himself. “I lied to my father and told him I was going to the Bridge Alliance on a mission when I actually came here to get you.” Vance stared straight at him. “My sailors are restocking the Seahorse as we speak because I am leaving tonight to head back. I need you to come with me.”

“I—” De Sardet started, but fell silent, the words seeming to escape him.

“Please, your excellency. I have heard the way my father speaks of you. He would be at peace if he could see you once more.”

The governor’s gaze raised from the floor to the young man in front of him, for a mere moment, simply gazing, then he sighed. “I…will have my bags packed by tonight.”

A relieved smile came across Vance’s face and he nodded. “Then I shall see you at the docks, Governor De Sardet.”

***

“How long has it been since you came to the docks?” Adrian asked, side eyeing the old man next to him.

De Sardet tipped his head side to side. “For business or because I cared?”

“The latter.”

“Hmm…fifty-five years…give or take a year or so.”

“And how many years has it been since he left?”

“Why do you care to know?” De Sardet snapped, scowling when Adrian merely smiled back at him.

“I was just curious to know how long it’d been since the one that got away,” he mused and De Sardet scoffed.

“My personal relationships are none of your concern.”

“Of course not, your excellency.”

“I despise your sarcasm, you smart bastard.”

Adrian grinned. “At least I’m not a prickly old bastard like you.”

“Excuse me?” De Sardet questioned, but before he could say another word, someone cleared their throat.

“Governor De Sardet, if you’re ready to go, we’ve ready to pull out as well.”

They both turned to Vance who was waiting and De Sardet nodded.

“Of course.” He reached down to pick up his back and Vance waved him off.

“I’ll take this.”

De Sardet prickled slightly. “I’m old, not decrepit, Captain.”

“But you are my guest, and I shall extend my courtesy to you,” he countered, and the governor fell silent as they walked to the brow.

Vance paused and gestured for De Sardet to go aboard, but the old man stopped and turned to Adrian. He held out his hand, Adrian gazing at it with confusion, but he took it, nonetheless.

“Adrian, if I were to do this properly, it’d take too much time, and since that’s something we don’t have, this’ll have to do.”

“Sir?”

“I hereby relinquish my duty as governor to you. New Serene is in your hands now.” De Sardet pulled away and walked up the ramp but paused when Adrian called after him.

“Wait! But won’t you be returning in a few months?”

He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “I have a feeling I won’t be, Adrian.” Nodding, he added, “Good luck to you, governor.”

Vance gave the man a firm handshake before making his leave, feet hitting the deck of the ship as he called, “Stations sailors! Weigh the anchor and ready her to wear!” He slapped one of his sailors on the back. “Lively now! Lively!” his hand rose to the sky. “Catch me a wind!”

De Sardet stared at the young captain, feeling the ache that had dulled itself over the decades slowly begin to burn once more at the familiar scene. His eyes drifted to the water as feelings he couldn’t even begin to describe settled in his chest.

***

The Naut island was exactly what he expected it to be, though a bit more refined if he was honest. His expectation had been slightly different in that he’d imagined the pirate island from his childhood tales. It was obviously more civilized though, except the number of taverns was mindboggling.

Vance led him through the crowded streets, giving De Sardet time enough to take in his surroundings, even throwing in a personal story from time to time. De Sardet decided that the time Vance’s father caught he and his younger sister drinking rum in the tavern was his favorite.

They hailed a carriage and rode for almost an hour until they came to a rather secluded home for such a crowded city. Vance helped De Sardet out and the old man took a moment to look at it. It reminded him of the country home that Aphra had back on New Serene. Cozy…homey…everything he’d refused.

“The others are probably inside,” Vance said and De Sardet cocked an eyebrow.

“The others? How many siblings do you have?”

Vance chuckled. “That are of my father’s blood? Or adopted?”

“Both.”

“Eleven. Five his, six adopted.”

De Sardet huffed in disbelief. “Gods above, what a madman.”

“You’ve no idea,” Vance laughed and knocked on the door before cracking it open. “I’ve returned,” he called, and the sound of stampeding feet put De Sardet on edge.

The door was yanked open, revealing a hoard of children ranging from their late twenties to the youngest who looked about ten.

“Vance!” a young woman called, wrapping her arms around the Naut’s neck. “Oh, you’re home! We’ve missed you!”

He huffed, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I told you I would be home within the year, Evelina.”

She pulled away, flipping her long black braid over her shoulder, a pinched look on her face. “You shouldn’t’ve left in the first place. Not while father is…” she trailed off when De Sardet peeked over Vance’s shoulder.

“Who is this you’ve brought?” she questioned, and Vance turned slightly, letting them see him.

“I present Lord De Sardet, the former governor of New Serene on Teer Fradee.”

Evelina drew her gaze to her brother. “You didn’t go to the Alliance then.”

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t. And you can get mad at me later.” He gently, but firmly, made his way inside, De Sardet following him. “For now, I wish to see father and introduce his oldest friend.”

Vance glanced at the youngest one. “Marcel, how is he?”

The boy shook his head. “Not good.” He glanced at his hands. “Father said my magic won’t do much anymore.” His eyes met De Sardet’s and the old man realized the child was a native of Teer Fradee like himself. “I don’t think it will be long now.”

Vance cursed under his breath, and De Sardet couldn’t help but apologize. “I’m sorry, Vance. I kept you away from this.”

“No,” Vance replied, shaking his head. “Truth be told, I made my peace when I left for Teer Fradee.”

“You mean you left thinking he’d die before we got here?” De Sardet asked.

Vance met his eyes. “My father’s been extremely sick, Lord De Sardet. I believed he’d pass the day I left.” He shook his head and wandered down the hall. “It doesn’t matter though. He’s still alive and that’s what matters.”

They stopped in front of a closed door and Vance looked at the old man. “Are you ready?”

De Sardet inhaled deeply, hands clenching in fists. “As I will ever be.”

Vance snorted. “If it gives you any assurance, I don’t think father can throw anything at you.” That earned a chuckle from the old man and he opened the door, the two quietly stepping inside.

“Father? Are you awake?” Vance questioned softly, gently bending beside the bed to take his hand.

The old Naut cracked an eye open, a smile coming across his lips as he greeted, “Vance? You’re back?”

“I am, father,” he replied, blinking away the tears. “And I’ve returned with someone.”

“Who?” the Naut quizzed, white brows furrowing as Vance stood up.

“Someone important.”

De Sardet appeared in his vision and he smiled tiredly. “Hello Vasco.”

Vasco’s golden eyes went wide and seeming to find strength, he held out a hand. “My Tempest,” he breathed and De Sardet sat on the bedside, taking Vasco’s hand.

Tears filled the Naut’s eyes. “You’re here.”

De Sardet gave him a grin and looked at Vance. “Your son is stubborn. Wouldn’t leave Teer Fradee without me.” Vasco gave a watery laugh, squeezing his hand weakly. “Told me I’d be a terrible friend if I didn’t come see you.”

“I didn’t say that!” Vance snapped, cheeks warming as his father looked at him. “I just said he wanted to see you again.”

Vasco swallowed thickly. “Thank you, Vance.”

The young captain scratched the back of his neck and shifted, pressing a kiss to Vasco’s forehead.

“Yeah, well…you’re welcome.” He pulled away and glanced at the two. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

De Sardet watched him leave, and when the door closed, he turned back and stared at Vasco. So long had it been since he’d last seen him. His hair was no longer the chestnut brown it once was, now white as snow, and longer, to his chest. Vasco had gained more tattoos, some of them reminding him of the ones Cabral had. But his eyes—Gods they were still so bright and beautiful.

“How long has it been?” Vasco whispered and De Sardet let out a sigh.

“Sixty-three years.” He ran his thumb over the back of the Naut’s hand. “You look good for eighty-eight, Vasco.”

“Sixty-three years and the first thing you do is flirt with me,” he laughed. “You haven’t changed a bit…well, maybe just a bit.”

De Sardet patted his stomach. “I’ve certainly let my body go.” Grinning, he added, “Could still take on a horde of lewoilges though.”

That made Vasco snort. “Sure you could.” He paused and tugged at De Sardet’s hand. “Help me sit up, would you? I can’t do it on my own.”

He rose from the bed and with one hand grabbed a pillow, the other wrapping around the back of Vasco’s shoulders. De Sardet pulled his upper body up from the bed and placed the cushion behind him, watching as Vasco rested against it.

“Better?” he checked, and Vasco nodded.

“Much.” He held out his hand. “Lay with me,” he urged adding, “Please,” when De Sardet looked at him warily.

De Sardet didn’t have much resistance against his ex-lover, quickly ceding to crawl onto the bed, one arm curling behind Vasco’s head, the other across his waist, their fingers intertwined. Vasco rested his head on De Sardet’s shoulder, breathing the other’s sent deeply.

“Are you comfortable, Vasco?” he inquired, fingers threading through his long white hair.

“More than I’ve been in a while, Tempest.” He tilted his head and De Sardet looked down, catching his eyes. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“I was heavily persuaded,” De Sardet answered, and the ache in his chest intensified as he let go of Vasco’s hand to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over the faded tattoos. “I’ve missed you, Vasco.”

“As have I, my Tempest.” Tears filled his eyes again and he lamented, “I thought about you for so long after I left.”

De Sardet swallowed the lump growing in his throat and he shushed Vasco softly. “Let’s not think back on such things.” He gave the Naut a smile. “Tell me about all eleven of your kids you absolute madman of a father.”

Vasco started laughing. “It is a sight isn’t it?”

“Eleven! That’s a handful!” He grinned. “And I want to know all about them.”

***

When Marcel had said that Vasco’s time wouldn’t be long, he wasn’t wrong in that assumption. As the day dwindled into night, so did Vasco’s life. He was tired, and De Sardet could tell, but there was so much they’d missed out on and so little time—they had to tell each other; Vasco had to tell him everything that had occurred during his time as Commander of The Fleet, sailing the seas and gaining the rank of Admiral, marrying his wife, and having the family he’d never thought he’d get. But he was so tired. So very tired. He wanted to sleep, but there was so much to tell. There was so much—

“Vasco,” De Sardet whispered, fingers brushing over the Naut’s cheek. He startled a bit, but managed to raise open his heavy lids, chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

“I’m here,” he replied, feeling De Sardet’s fingers curl in his palm. “What…what happened?”

De Sardet felt the lump grow back in his throat, but he said, “You started to fall asleep on me. You were talking about your last voyage.”

Vasco remembered again. He was telling him about the final voyage to Serene, Vance as his first mate. But where did he leave off on? The beginning? The middle? He wasn’t sure anymore.

“I’m afraid my memory isn’t what it once was, my Tempest,” he excused.

“It’s quite alright,” De Sardet answered, shifting slightly so that Vasco was once more resting on his shoulder, his arm over the Naut’s waist. “We’ll just speak of something else then.”

Vasco took a deep breath and started to relax on De Sardet’s shoulder. “I don’t think we have the time, my Tempest.”

“Don’t say that,” De Sardet lamented, throat tightening with each passing moment. “We still have time.”

“When has time ever been…on our side, my Tempest?” the Naut whispered, barely feeling the hand De Sardet placed on his arm.

He looked away as tears filled his eyes, and the memory of Vasco calling him a coward came back to him. De Sardet shakily exhaled and turned his head back, pressing his forehead to Vasco’s.

“I’m sorry,” he wept. “I’m so sorry that I was a coward all those years ago. I’m sorry I shut you out. I’m—”

“Shh, my Tempest,” Vasco murmured with a small smile. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

De Sardet didn’t like that answer. He let out a quiet sob. “Forgive me for being so foolish. I would give anything to go back all those years ago.” He felt the tears fall down his cheeks, but he didn’t wipe them away, raising his hand to cup Vasco’s cheek.

“I love you,” he confessed tearfully, thumb brushing over the Naut’s skin. “I love you, Vasco.”

The Naut seemed to find the last of his strength to open his eyes once more, gazing with a clarity and mumbled, “And I love you, my Tempest…always.”

***

Vance had offered De Sardet one of the rooms in the home, but he’d politely declined, saying he’d stay at one of the various taverns and let the family grieve. At that, the young Naut wanted to ask to let him walk the old man to one of them, but the look in De Sardet’s eyes begged him to leave the man alone. And Vance watched a broken man disappear into the night.

***

He wandered aimlessly through the streets, ignoring every sound and sight that passed him by. His heart ached. Oh, it ached terribly. And all he wanted to do was crawl under his covers and sleep it away. De Sardet had outlived them all. He’d left his mother to die, taken the life of his cousin, held the hand of the man he considered his father as he passed, held both Síora’s and Aphra’s hands as they passed too, brushed the sweat from Kurt’s brow before he slipped into eternity, and De Sardet cradled the man he loved in his arms as he took his last breath. What more could he lose?

When he finally came to clarity, he was knee deep in the water, feeling it lap at his legs. Tears fell down his cheeks and he slapped the water in anger, shouting as if someone could hear him.

“What was the purpose?!” he screamed. “I watched them all die! And for what?!”

Maybe En on míl frichtimen or The Enlightened would hear him and answer him.

“Is this punishment?!” The water was to his waist now. “I’ve learned my lesson!” De Sardet’s throat hurt from yelling and he cried, “I just want to go back! Please!” The water lapped at his chest.

“I’ll change! I’ll change it all! Just let me go ba—”

A gasp tore through his chest when his footing slipped from beneath him and De Sardet went under, the current pulling at his body, and though part of him struggled, the other stopped and let it happen. The moon shone above him in a rippled vision as the first intake of water sunk into his lungs. Strangely, as it happened, De Sardet felt at peace and let himself go, allowing the sea to pull him deeper and deeper. If this was his end, let it be. He was tired too. Tired of watching everyone he loved die. Tired of being the last one. His mind clouded with a haze and his last thought oddly enough, was that the moon was getting too bright.

***

The snap of a shutter down below broke him from sleep, and he sat up straight in the bed, chest heaving with every intake of oxygen. He wrestled with the sheets that were tied around him, realizing he must’ve gotten tangled in his sleep. As he pulled them down from his neck, he stopped to examine his hands. The wrinkles he remembered we no longer there and he reached up, feeling his face. Gasping, he scrambled from the plush bed and onto the floor, ignoring the shooting pain that shot up his legs from the impact.

He hurried to the corner of the room and stared into the mirror with shock. His young self was staring back at him. A smile of relief so wonderful came across his face and a laugh bubbled in his chest—it had been a dream, a terrible, awful dream. But that’s all that it was. He turned and looked out the mirror on his left and a new wave of relief bled through him—the Seahorse was still in port. Suddenly he remembered his dream. Vasco leaving, for good.

Cursing, De Sardet spun on his heel and sprinted to the door. He paused to yank his boots on and pull on a shirt, though it was unbuttoned and in disarray. His fingers flipped the lock of the door and he yanked them open, startling the maids who were cleaning, half to death. He merely waved at them and ran out of the parlor towards the stairs, and as he turned the corner, he saw Kurt coming up.

Joy filled him and he wrapped the mercenary in his arms, nearly causing them to tumble down the stairs. “Kurt!” he cried, squeezing the man tightly, and he sputtered in shock.

“Green Blood? You—you’re out of your room?”

De Sardet pulled away, hands grasping his friend’s shoulders. “I am! Where is Vasco?”

Kurt shook his head and thrust his thumb over his shoulder. “Came by about ten minutes ago. Said his goodbyes before he took off.”

“Damnit!” the Legate cursed and pulled away, descending the stairs like a madman, Kurt on his heels.

“Where are you going!” he yelled, waving off the nobles who were rightly scandalized at the younger noble in his starkers.

“To stop Vasco from leaving! I had a dream!” De Sardet shouted, flinging the doors of the courtroom open and hauling down the stairs towards the entrance.

“A dream?”

“I’ll tell you later!” he replied, bursting into the afternoon.

The townspeople stopped and stared at the barely dressed Legate and confused mercenary running past them, but De Sardet didn’t care. All he cared about was stopping Vasco before it was too late.

“How are you not skin and bone, Green Blood?” Kurt called behind him.

He laughed. “My cousin went insane, but he planned ahead!” De Sardet tossed a look over his shoulder. “I’ve been living off the fruitcakes he had stored away.”

Kurt made a face of pure disgust. “Ugh, gross.”

De Sardet laughed and flew past the merchants in the Copper District, coming out to the port. He sprinted towards the Harbour Master’s Office.

“Admiral Cabral!” he yelled out, startling the woman who had her nose in one of their books.

She gaped at him. “Lord De Sardet? What—”

“Vasco!” he shouted. “Where is he?”

“He and the Seahorse set sail moments ago.” She pointed towards the stern of the said ship and De Sardet cursed again, running towards the edge of the dock. The Seahorse was about to clear the two giant rocks of the island, about a hundred meters from them. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted as loudly as he could.

“VASCO!” the ship didn’t seem to be stopping and he called again. “VASCO!”

He turned to the crowd of sailors that was growing behind him; he pointed at one.

“You there! Give me your rifle!” The sailor pointed to himself, shock etching onto his face. “Yes you!” De Sardet griped, yanking the rifle from him. He quickly checked if it was loaded then raised it to his shoulder.

“You’ll shoot someone at this distance, Green Blood,” Kurt warned, and De Sardet nodded.

“I know. But that’s not what I’m aiming for.” He closed one eye and took aim with the other, raising the gun a few inches and pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed across the water and port, and they watched in amazement as one of the pulley’s holding up the main sail at the gaff exploded in a hail of sparks, the cream sail flopping over. From the way the other sails were immediately pulled into the masts and the anchors dropped, De Sardet knew he’d achieved his goal. He tossed the rifle back and cupped his mouth once more.

“VASCO!” he screamed, and the man who held his heart appeared at the stern, though de Sardet could barely make out his features.

De Sardet waved like a madman, watching as Vasco raised the spyglass to his eye, then lowered it in shock and he heard faintly across the water, “De Sardet?” A milewide grin crossed his lips and he bent down, undoing the laces to his boots.

“What are you doing, Green Blood?” Kurt questioned when the Legate shoved his boots into his arms.

De Sardet yanked off his shirt and tossed it at him. “I’m going to him.”

“You’re joking?” Kurt hesitated and De Sardet shook his head. “Green Blood, that’s at least a hundred meters.”

“And you’re acting like Constantin and I didn’t swim in the Serene sea during the summer months.” He winked at him. “I got this.”

He didn’t wait for a response, immediately diving into the ocean, which was freezing, he might add, but it didn’t stop him. De Sardet broke the surface and forced himself to swim through the frigid water. It would’ve taken him at least a minute and a half, but the coldness seeping into his bones locked him up a bit, and the minute stretched into two.

As he reached the side of the ship, a rope came down and he grabbed it, feet slipping into the steps on the side of the ship as the crew heaved him up. De Sardet came over the side and someone, he thought it was Lauro, rested a blanket over his shoulders.

“Thank you,” he shivered, teeth chattering as he rubbed his chest, and stomping came his way. He looked up to see Vasco coming towards him, a look of fury on his face.

“Are you some kind of idiot?” he barked when he got within ten feet of the Legate. “Do you have any idea how danger—”

De Sardet stepped the last foot between them, hands on Vasco’s tattooed cheeks as he pulled the Naut to him, sealing the sailor’s anger in a searing kiss. Whistles sounded around them, and he grinned when Vasco hands pressed to his bare chest. He tipped the Naut’s chin up, one hand leaving his face to wrap around the captain’s waist as he pulled them flush together. Eventually, air called to them and De Sardet pulled back, leaving Vasco a bit dazed and red in the cheeks.

“What—” he floundered, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“I love you,” De Sardet professed, staring into his eyes. “I love you, Vasco, and I don’t want you to go.” He breathed deeply, a foolish smile coming across his face. “I’ve been such a fool and a damned coward, just like you said. I’ve been the biggest coward who’s shut himself away from the world.”

Vasco couldn’t seem to find the words, but that was okay, De Sardet didn’t need him to speak, he only needed him to listen.

“I dreamed,” he started, taking a moment to will the horrid dream away from his mind. “I dreamed of what life would’ve been if you’d left today. Loneliness and regret are all it was.” De Sardet’s fingers brushed over his cheek. “And I realized something when I woke up. Do you know what it was?”

Vasco shook his head.

De Sardet swallowed. “I realized that losing Constantin hurt. But losing you?” He cupped the Naut’s cheek and confessed, “Losing you would be unbearable.” Vasco’s eyes went wide and De Sardet listened to the sharp intake of breath as tears gathered in the Naut’s vision.

“So, I’m coming to you with my heart in my hands,” he said. “And I’m asking you to stay with me.” He smiled widely at Vasco. “Stay with me, Vasco. Here.”

It took Vasco a good moment to gain his senses and he whispered, “My crew…I…”

Someone cleared their throat and they both glanced from the corner of their eyes to see Jonas smiling at Vasco.

“Captain, if I may?” he asked softly, and Vasco could only nod. “Captain, we Nauts belong to the sea. We are made from salt and water, forged by storms and secrets.” Jonas looked at De Sardet. “The sea is our mistress…but our hearts are ours.”

Vasco huffed, a smile crossing his lips as he whispered, “Shite, you’ve always had a nugget for the truth, Jonas.” He met De Sardet’s eyes. “Ask me again.”

De Sardet grinned. “Captain Vasco, will you do me the honor of spending the rest of your life with me?”

“I will,” Vasco smiled, wrapping his arms around De Sardet’s neck. “I love you, my Tempest.”

“I love you t—” he’d barely gotten the reply out before the Naut was pulling him down, crashing their lips together as cheers surrounded them. He pulled back slightly and humored, “I’d love to take the warm up in your quarters, but I really need to bathe first. How ‘bout we get back to shore?”

Vasco’s lips twisted into a smirk, but it was anything but humorous. “Well…I would gladly take us back to shore, but someone shot my rigging down. We have to fix it first.”

De Sardet swallowed and objected, “It was that or you leave. I think we should look at the brighter side of things and that is that we’ve fixed a situation that could’ve been devastating.”

Vasco merely rolled his eyes and shoved him away, pointing to the captain’s cabin. “Go warm up while I get us back to shore.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” De Sardet flirted, winking as he escaped into the quarters.

The Naut huffed a laugh and shook his head, then suddenly feeling eyes on his head shot up and he hissed, “What are you lot standing around for! I’m still the captain of this ship! Lively now! And someone fix that rig!”

***

The warm glow still remained on their skin as they curled in each other’s arms, Vasco resting his head on De Sardet’s chest, his right arm resting next to his chin. De Sardet’s free hand softly ran through the Naut’s hair, the other gripping the hand on his chest, simply content in holding him. They’d both shared tears when they’d made love, apologies on bruised lips and against each other’s skin, but it meant the world to be together again.

“I’m going to be the talk of the city for months,” De Sardet suddenly said, and Vasco snorted.

“You’re going to be the talk of the city for years,” he corrected, musing, “A noble running after a Naut in his starkers, then diving into the bay for him.” He tipped his head up, propping his chin on De Sardet’s chest. “You’ve scandalized them all.”

“Good,” he countered with a grin, pushing a piece of hair from the Naut’s face, tucking it behind his ear. “We need a scandal every now and then. Keeps it all interesting.”

“I’m sure it does, my Tempest.”

They gazed at each other for a moment, then Vasco asked, “What made you come?”

“Technically it was you doing that thing with your hi—OW!” he hollered when Vasco pinched his side. “Okay! I was just joking! Geez!” De Sardet rubbed his hip, then rested his head back onto the pillow so that he didn’t have to stare at Vasco while he told him of the dream.

“I dreamed that I let you leave and grew old and bitter about it. Your son came to visit me…told me that you weren’t doing good and that—”

“I’m sorry, my son?” Vasco interrupted and De Sardet rolled his eyes.

“Yes, your son. Keep up with the story. His name was Vance, and he came to Teer Fradee to get me so that we could see each other one last time before you passed.”

The Naut was silent a moment. “And did you? You know…see me?” De Sardet fell silent and Vasco heard the Legate’s heart thump rapidly in his chest. “De Sardet?” he murmured, and the man picked his head up, looking deep into the Naut’s golden gaze.

“I held you as you took your final breath,” he whispered, and Vasco’s heart broke at the pain his voice held.

“My Tempest, I—”

“Sixty-three years since I let you leave, and I spent twelve hours trying to make up for it.” Tears gathered in his eyes. “And I begged your forgiveness for my foolishness and all you did was tell my you’d already done so.”

He cupped Vasco’s cheek. “I held you as you went.” De Sardet shook his head. “I’d never felt such an agony, even with all I had to do.” His thumb brushed a tear from under Vasco’s eye. “And I woke up thinking that if I had to hold you in your final moments again, then I wanted it to be after a life we spent together. A life of love and happiness, not regrets.”

De Sardet lips pulled into a weak smile. “And I’m so thankful I got there in time, because I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t.”

Vasco shifted atop him, leaning down to press their foreheads together. “You’ll never have to wonder, because we’re together now.”

“I love you, Vasco,” De Sardet murmured, cupping his sun-kissed, tattooed, cheeks.

“And I you, my Tempest,” Vasco responded, pressing a kiss to his lips. He pulled away and rested on De Sardet’s chest, feeling the other wrap his arms around him, fingers gently tracing up and down his spine.

They laid there a moment, then Vasco whispered, “But I wasn’t leaving for good, you know.”

The fingers dancing on his skin stopped. “What?” De Sardet deadpanned.

Vasco snorted and looked at him. “I was delivering some supplies to San Matheus and coming right back.” He smirked, eyes filled with mirth as he ribbed, “You didn’t really think you were getting rid of me that easily, did you? With a note? Please, I have more class than that.”

De Sardet’s jaw dropped and he gaped at his lover, who started laughing, and when his thoughts finally caught up with him, he chuckled lowly.

“Oh, so that’s how it was then?”

Vasco wiggled, trying to get away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

De Sardet followed him. “Oh yes you do,” he affirmed. “And I’m going to drag it out of you.”

They stared at one another a moment, then Vasco jerked, but before he could get far, De Sardet had him around the waist, pulling him down into the sheets, laughter peeling from him.

He pinned Vasco’s hips into the bed with his thighs as he straddled him and with one hand, held the Naut’s wrists as the other dug into the man’s sides, grinning evilly as he howled with laughter. De Sardet kept at it until tears were sliding down Vasco’s cheeks and he was begging him to stop. He released Vasco’s wrists watching as a few last chuckles crept past his mouth and lowered his arms.

“Gods, De Sardet,” he heaved, sucking in the much-needed air. “When you said you were going to drag it out of me, I didn’t know you meant that.”

“What? Thought I was going to ravage you until you begged mercy?” De Sardet ribbed and when the Naut’s cheeks flushed crimson, his eyes went wide. “Oh my god, did you really think that’s what I was going to do?”

Vasco floundered. “Your eyes said that!”

“My eyes—what?” De Sardet snorted, running a hand across his face.

“Your eyes,” Vasco said. “They were lustful,” his cheeks seemed to catch fire with every word until he snapped his mouth shut and De Sardet simply grinned down at him. “Oh, get off me you scoundrel!”

“Scoundrel?” De Sardet moaned, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m shocked you’d think that.”

“No, you’re not,” Vasco spat, though his voice held little heat.

“Nah,” the Legate replied, bending down to peck the Naut’s lips. “I’m not. But if you did want me to ravage you, I can still oblige.”

“I love you, my Tempest, but please stop talking.”

“If I say aye-aye captain, will it turn you on?”

“I’m deeply regretting my decision to stay at this point.”

“Oh no doubt, but you agreed to stay, so you’re stuck with me.” De Sardet smiled. “Sorry.”

Vasco chuckled and shook his head. “There’s no place I’d rather be in this moment in time, my tempest. Nowhere.”

De Sardet felt a heartfelt smile come across his face and he replied, “I feel the same, Vasco.”

#vasco x de sardet #de sardet x vasco #greedfall #greedfall fanfic #greedfall fanfiction #vasco #vasco fanfic #vasco fanfiction #captain vasco #vasco greedfall #de sardet #de sardet fanfic #de sardet fanfiction #kurt #constantin d'orsay #petrus #siora #aphra

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

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ἀλήθεια (Chapter 3, Vοσταλγία AU)

ἀλήθεια Masterlist

Pairing: Freydis/Reader, Ivar/Reader (past)

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: The usual. My endless swooning over Freydis.

A/N: So, writing the next chapter of Nostalgia is proving harder than I intended it to, so I’m not sure I’ll be able to post it this weekend. I’ll try my best, but I’m slowly getting back to writing, I’m not at my usual speed yet, so I’m still struggling. I’m also working on a few 500 Celebration thingies, so I hope to post those soon too. In the meantime, hope you like this!

Freydis is pondering on the why you insist on speaking Norse with Galla when she is around, asking herself whether it is because you don’t want her to feel like an outsider, or because you want to remind your lifelong friend of the outsider amongst you.

She sits by the fire, working on stitching together a torn cloak, as you pace around the room, arguing with Galla.

“I’m not letting you do this.”

“Letting me?” Your laugh is mocking, arrogance lacing your words when you taunt, “You’ve forgotten a lot, my friend, if you think you have any say in what I do.”

“That is not what I-…” A sigh, and Freydis hears Galla bite back her anger. “I speak their tongue. I can do the talking, and you stay safe.”

“Why does that sound like an excuse to-…”

“I’m not trying to chain you, you know that.”

Freydis knows how much you hate being interrupted when you’re talking, so she is sure the other woman does. She cannot help but wonder if she does it on purpose.

You scoff, “I’ve heard that before.”

“I am not some Varangian that tr-...”

“Tis better you don’t speak of what you don’t know. I never meant my husband,” You interrupt, eyes blazing. Galla’s eyes give away the recognition, and full lips form around a word that once was a name. Freydis remembers the way you spoke of the man you led to his death with promises of love, she remembers that you being able -being willing- to do something like that was the first moment she felt she could completely trust in you. You take a deep breath, “We need to get to that city, it is safer if I go.”

“Safer? What happens if you are found?”

“What happens if you are?”

“I get killed, you do not.” Galla states, an uncomfortable stillness falling over the room at her words.

A sigh, and then, “Kattegat had a funeral for me, Galla. They don’t know I’m alive, no one has any reason to think I’m…h-his wife.”

You haven’t said his name ever since you left Kattegat, and with each passing day the jarring manner in which you go out of your way not to say Ivar’s name becomes more and more apparent to Freydis.

“Yes, of course. A Greek trading and trying to buy passage to the Mediterranean, who would think it has anything to do with Kattegat’s queen?” The other woman teases, but there is a concern in her honeyed voice that Freydis cannot help but feel all the way through her body.

“I can do it,” Freydis interrupts, stepping forward and letting her gaze jump between you and Galla. “They will think nothing of me, just another…Varangian.”

“Hm,” Galla states before you can say anything, dark eyes surveying Freydis slowly before full lips pull into a smile, “You’re a brave one, Freydis.”

She tells herself she shouldn’t feel so emboldened by the slight praise, but it makes her feel stronger, it makes her feel like she is reclaiming a part of herself, by letting herself do this, be this.

____

“If they so much as whisper my name, you get out. Promise me, Freydis.”

She frowns, but acquiesces with a smile, “I promise.”

You swallow, hesitate for a moment before your hand reaches for hers. It is warm, it reminds her of that particular kind of fear of that first night she was a free woman, and yet it reminds her of that particular kind of warmth of the first time she had something to call her own. The touch is soft and light, but it tethers her more than she would like to admit.

“Don’t leave me alone.” You ask her quietly, big eyes boring into hers. She nods her head, but doesn’t say anything else.

Galla puts a hand on your arm and brings you to her side, murmuring something in your own tongue that makes you smile, even if it is still tinged by anxiety and more than a tad of fear.

Freydis finds herself wanting to know what she said to you, just as she usually finds herself wanting to know what the Greeks say that makes you grow a little colder, wanting to know what the soft songs they sing at night mean to you, what the tongue of your Gods and your people speaks of.

And as Freydis makes her way through the port, she starts thinking of what it would be like to speak your tongue, share something more with you, find something other than you speaking her language that makes her belong at your side.

In a few words, she manages to sell the few trinkets Galla had stolen, and with the coin heavy in the pouch hanging by her belt, Freydis sets of to speak with one of the boatbuilders.

The conversation is short and to the point, and the man doesn’t hesitate to tell her all she wants to know, judging by the purposely meek posture and adverted eyes that she is a thrall doing as she is told. It is remarkably easy, to pretend, to lie and make them do as she wants them too.

Freydis dares think she understands a bit better why you chose to chain yourself to that Greek. She also -much to her chagrin- understands why you refused to do the same to Ivar.

As she takes her leave she sees some unrecognizable faces carrying recognizable shields. A part of her almost wants -though she knows it is impossible, though she knows even if it weren’t it would end badly for her- to see Ivar with them, to have him see her.

For all the times he took you from her side without meaning to, for all the cruel smiles he granted her as you held his hand and left her barren, for all the ways he took things from her -and for all the things he could have taken, had the tale been other-; Freydis wants to face him one last time. To prove to him that a king, a famous man, a monster, wasn’t enough to keep you with him, but her, a liar, a former slave, a woman, was enough.

Before she can ask herself whether it was the years that made her cruel or she was always this way, she recalls every time she was left starving while others feasted, and finds she does not care.

____

It is only a fortnight later that she manages to return to the camp and announce there has been set up safe passage for you and most of the Greeks back to the Mediterranean -Crete, you tell her with a blinding smile, as if she is supposed to know what that is. She still smiles back-, alongside Arab merchant vessels.

Freydis does know how to lie and play pretend around her countrymen, and she still holds on to the warm and encompassing feeling of pride that being responsible for arranging for the ships with the builders at the docks brought; but she finds herself uncertain as to how to interact with these Arabs, with their strange garbs and their stranger customs.

You, though, you breeze through conversation with them, you laugh and smile as if you can forget what brought you here and that all that surrounds you still is death and cold. And Freydis doesn’t bother looking away.

They speak their own tongue, that you share in short bursts, but they also speak Greek with you, even if theirs is choppier than yours of course. They meet you somewhere in between worlds, and the women of painted skin and covered hair make your eyes shine with warmth; and you make their laughs delighted and fascinated; as if you share more than just words, as your language and theirs mix and match.

When the night starts to set and the people -Greeks, Arabs, Vikings- set of to sleep in every nook and cranny of the wooden ship they can find, you find your way back to Freydis’ side, sitting next to her and sharing the warmth of your cloak as you set it over both your legs as if you don’t even have to think twice about it.

“Did you ever think you’d one day part from this land, Freydis?”

“No,” She offers sincerely, looking at the distant and dark sea. “Being a slave didn’t leave much time to hope for traveling.”

“And after that?”

“Kattegat was safe, familiar,” Freydis takes a breath, closes her eyes for a moment. “It was just another set of chains, maybe.”

“Those are familiar too,” You state, saying the words she cannot. All the answer she offers is a nod. You sigh, and give away a confession of your own, “Neither did I.”

“All you wanted once was to leave these lands.”

“Yet I never believed I would leave alive, not truly,” A chuckle leaves your lips, but it is biter, “I am still not convinced I am not dead, but I always thought death would feel more like…home.”

“Your…Underworld?” She asks, and you nod your head mutely.

You once told her of the creatures and Gods that inhabited that realm that you Greeks go to once you die. You told her of a king with a crown that makes him invisible, you told her of a queen that trusted and thus was condemned.

You told her of those creatures half-monster and half-woman, that punish those deserving, that drive men insane, that topple kingdoms with a word, that end battles with their presence alone.

Erinyes, you’d told her they were. They had names, but you keep those secret too, just like you kept your own once.

When she turns to look at you, her gaze lingers on the faint shine of the moon that makes your eyes glimmer, and in all the anger and the grief they harbor, there’s warmth. Too alike the warmth of fickle embers, waiting for the right breeze to burn it all again, but it is warm, and it is familiar to Freydis.

She wonders if there was more than stubbornness keeping you from giving away your name then, she wonders if the otherworldliness of you is not because of who your people are. Because Freydis looks at you, and there’s that seed of awe and fear that tugs at her heart, there’s the faint quickening of her breaths and the urge to never look away and learn each and every quirk of your mouth and shade of color in your eyes; and she wonders if you are something more than human.

You have to be, she reasons. Something more than her, more than him, more than any other. The curve of your smile isn’t like any other’s, the sound of your voice is familiar and fascinating at the same time, the way you dance easily between cruelty and gentleness is both terrifying and fascinating; you cannot be just a mortal like her, like them.

“Lord Hades saw her in that field, and fell in love,” You tell her, eyes absently travelling over the crowded room. Your smile is nostalgic when you continue, “Love made out of a God nothing but a man.”

“Careful, witch. That means love can make out of a man a God.” Valdís says, hiding a smile behind the horn from which she takes a sip, keeping clear eyes on you and giving you both a warning and something else.

“I want you to teach me your tongue.” Freydis tells you quietly, heart thumping a little out of rhythm when you turn to her with barely-masked enthusiasm, and a spark that she feared you had lost.

“Very well.” You muse, a serene smile on your lips.

You start pointing at the sky, and teaching her how to repeat the words you say. A part of her knows this isn’t how one is supposed to start learning a new language, but she loses herself in the low cadence of your voice and the lull of the ship, and finds not wanting anything to be any different, even if this doesn’t help her understand Greek any better.

It is a start, and that is all she wants. To find a way to meet you halfway between the two worlds that want you even if you don’t belong fully to neither. Freydis can learn to live in between realms, that is how she has lived most of her life: a woman when they wanted and lusted after her body, but not a woman when they refused her the chance to tell them no; someone loved when you smiled at her, but not the one you loved when your eyes met his.

But you have learned to live there too, she knows. His wife and their ‘daughter’, Kattegat’s Queen and Attica’s Anassa, yourself and what they want you to be.

Maybe, she dares think, you can both live there, in between worlds, in between places to belong to. Because even if you both belong to nowhere, you belong together.

____ ____ ____

Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it!

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