#i was always meant to be a northern bitch

[perotovar]

ásjá - a winter solstice story

Ásjá by Heilung (i highly recommend listening to this while reading)

Our second single release is a love song. Maria sings to the listener of love, recovery and prosperity, chasing away evil and welcoming love. The piece contains a quotation of some lines of “Hávamál”, combined with a selection of blessing words meant to provide help to the listener in a troubled time. Kai brought his vocal part of 'Asja' back to us after a month of isolation, fasting and meditation in nature. Only the spirits know the full meaning, but we do know that the context is love, prosperity and protection.

pairing: pero tovar/ofc!helga (but this is mostly a character study) rating: T word count: 7.4k (idk what happened here) warnings: minor swearing, google translated spanish (sorry), historical inaccuracies in favor of fantasy/magic, my american norse pagan perspective of these practices, if i missed anything else lemme know! dividers by @saradika-graphics beta and norwegian translations by the lovely @chloeangelic thank you, honey ♥

summary: Pero picks up a contract that leads him "somewhere up North", but what he finds instead is unlike anything he imagined for himself. Or, what would happen if Pero encountered the Vikings during their winter celebration?

this is apart of @hellishjoel's 12 days of pedro. thank you for including me, kylee, and make sure you all read the other presents!

god jól, everyone🌲❄️🌙🐺

It was fucking cold.

With shaking hands and numb limbs, Pero made his way further up the hill. The wind picked up the further he went into the trees. 

The contract he’d taken up was for a man by the name of Ingvar. A strange name to Pero’s ears, but that hardly mattered to him. This Ingvar was to be taken care of, and Pero had to show proof. 

Not a problem.

The problem, at least for the moment, was the fucking weather and his own lack of foresight. He was told that Ingvar was “somewhere up North”, and that was it. He didn’t exactly plan for just how cold it would be. His fingers were going numb and red, and he saw every breath that left his lungs. If William were here, he’d tell Pero to quit his “bitching” and to make camp.

The camp, he could do. The bitching? Unlikely. 

Pero and William separated after the… events in China. They stayed together to do a few jobs together, but William decided to make his way back to China and meet up with Lin Mae again, possibly even settle down. Pero didn’t fancy seeing the people that had arrested and almost killed him, and black powder wasn’t worth the trouble anymore. At least not to him. He rather liked the uncertainty of his job. Found comfort in it, in fact. His future was set for him in this line of work. He would live doing the things he loved most; fighting, fucking, and drinking. And the ending was always the same. At least, that’s what he told himself.

A low whisper brought Pero out of his thoughts. He snapped his head towards the direction of the sound and furrowed his already heavy brow. The sound of a raven cawing caught his attention, making him hum skeptically to himself before deciding this was as good a spot as any for a fire. 

Once settled on a fallen tree and attempting to warm his hands with his meager fire, Pero dug into his travel pack. He grumbled at the pitiful excuse for food he had left. He grabbed a piece of thick, dry bread and started ripping off chunks and eating that. Perhaps he could hunt? Find a rabbit, or something a little bigger. He remembered to make a bow this time. Swallowing the last chunk of the bread, he picked up his bow and arrows, and threw his cloak-slash-blanket over his shoulders. It was going to be dark soon, and he didn’t like the idea of starving his first night in this frozen Northern hell.

Another whisper.

Pero’s body went taut. He looked between the tall trees and the endless sea of white ahead of him. Nothing. A rabbit hopped by, distracting him. Before he could think too hard, he knocked an arrow and let fly. The arrow landed in the snow just after the rabbit hopped away.

“Mierda,” he grumbled. (Shit.)

He crouched low and slowly followed after the rabbit. He made his way toward a small clearing, which seemed to be in the center of the forest, if his tracking skills were getting any better.

There was a large stone in the middle, towards the top of the clearing. There looked to be a large blood stain in the center of it. Pero raised a brow and grunted quietly. This was none of his business, clearly.

Suddenly, the rabbit made its way to the middle of the clearing, next to the large stone. Pero sighed and lined up a shot, hoping for the best. He released a breath at the same time that the arrow left his fingers, and another whisper passed through his ears.

He gasped quietly and time seemed to stop as the arrow traveled through the cold air. A shiver ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. He closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath, trying to make himself as still as possible. 

The sound of the arrow piercing the rabbit startled him out of his frozen state. He blinked a few times, the white forest coming back into view as he looked down at the dead rabbit in the clearing. He exhaled and slowly stood, settling his bow on his shoulder. He looked around again, and when he saw nothing, slowly made his way down the hill and towards the center of the clearing.

He picked up the dead rabbit and removed the arrow, tucking it into his belt to clean and use again later. Standing in the center of the clearing, he looked over at the bloodstained stone and felt that shiver go down his spine again. He looked up at the gray sky and decided it was time to go back to his camp. He hooked the rabbit’s carcass onto his belt, pulled the cloak over his shoulders tighter, and shoved his hands inside the fabric.

“Maldita nieve,” he grumbled to himself. (Fucking snow.) As he climbed back up the hill, he felt a sharp pain in his foot and lost his balance, catching himself with his hands in the snow. He hissed loudly and looked down at his boot. A small spike was poking out through the top, meaning the sharp rock was piercing through his foot. He groaned and leaned against the hill, steadying his breathing. He counted to three in his head and yanked the rock from his foot. “Fuck,” he exhaled loudly, a few drops of his own blood covering his palm as he looked at the rock. A small symbol was carved into it, making him squint his eyes, trying to decipher what it was. Pero shook his head and sighed, pocketing the strange rock to inspect later.

On his way back to his little camp, limping the whole way to not put too much pressure on his foot, he grabbed some branches to make the fire last a little longer. Once the meager fire came into view, he swore he saw someone sitting on the log he was using before. He froze in place, heavy boots landing in the snow abruptly. He squinted his eyes and grew confused. An old man? What would he be doing out here? 

Pero looked around the frozen forest to see if there was anyone that could be with the old man. When he didn’t see anyone, he looked back at the campfire, and the old man was gone. He’d completely vanished. Pero grunted quietly and rubbed his eyes with frozen fingers. He shook his head to snap himself out of it and made his way over to the campfire.

After putting the rabbit on the spit and it started to cook, Pero made his bed for the night. He’d do his best to sleep, but didn’t have high hopes. Once the rabbit was cooked, he stabbed it with his knife and started eating it messily. He groaned at the taste of fresh, hot, cooked meat and enjoyed it, even if it was pretty bland. It warmed his bones a little and made him more comfortable, pulling the cloak tighter around his shoulders.

The sound of a branch snapping behind him went unnoticed by Pero’s ears, too focused on the food. He hadn’t eaten in days. The second snap, however, was heard, and it made him drop the rabbit onto the ground and grab his sword, brandishing it in front of him as he stood.

“¿Dónde estás, bastardo?” He grumbled under his breath, his heavy breaths puffing out into smoke. (Where are you, bastard?)

He sighed in frustration when he didn’t see anything. He was seriously starting to consider if this contract was even worth it. And if it wasn’t, would he be able to make it back without dying? Either from the cold, or whatever it was that was playing with him. He mumbled obscenities to himself and sat back down on his fallen tree.

He picked up the rabbit and groaned at the dirt now covering it. He blew off what he could and decided to continue eating it, dirt be damned. He was hungry.

Once full, he looked up at the moon in the sky, trying to figure out how late it was. He rubbed his hands over his arms to keep warm and added a branch or two to his fire. He grabbed a piece of spare cloth from his travel pack and quickly wrapped his foot. He laid down next to the fire and pulled the cloak up over his shoulders and shut his eyes. He didn’t feel tired, but he couldn’t help closing his eyes. He tried to fight it, to keep his guard up, but it was useless. 

He started to feel lightheaded and turned onto his back, looking up at the moon again. The moon and the stars, so bright he almost didn’t need the campfire, were swirling around and moving in close and further away. The trees surrounding him looked to be moving side to side. 

What was happening? Did the old man poison him somehow? Who was that old man?

His vision went blurry and he felt like he was spinning in place despite laying on the ground, completely still. He let out a weak groan and tried to move, reaching for his sword. 

The last thing he saw before his vision went black, was the silhouette of a large dog, or perhaps a wolf, in the distance hidden behind the trees.

Warmth. He felt warm. And a pounding headache.

Pero slowly blinked awake and groaned at the light that hit his eyes. The smell of cooked meat and root vegetables hit his nostrils. His stomach whined in protest. 

“For en merkelig fyr…” An older male voice said, somewhere behind him. (He is a strange one…)

“Kjekk, da,” A younger, female voice replied. (Handsome, though.)

He didn’t understand any of it. It wasn’t a language he’d heard before. Eyelids fluttering, he slowly opened his eyes to a small gathering of people all looking down at him. He startled and reached for his knife, and grunted when he didn’t feel it.

“Vi har våpnene dine. De er trygge.” (We have your weapons. They’re safe.)

Pero turned his head in the direction of the voice and squinted his eyes at the woman. She looked to be in her 30s, with a baby attached to her breast and drinking.

“No entiendo,” he grumbled, voice hoarse from lack of use. “¿Dónde estoy?” (I do not understand. Where am I?)

He took in his surroundings, now sitting up, and saw that he looked to be in a small room cut off from a much larger group of people. He heard laughter and song outside the cloth separating the, assumed, larger hall from where he was now. He furrowed his brows. A celebration? What for?

“¿Dónde estoy?” He repeated, voice slightly harsher. (Where am I?)

“Har ikke hørt det språket før,” one of the men said. (Haven’t heard that tongue before.) Pero looked up at him and squinted his eyes slightly. The man was large, with a full beard, and an even fuller middle. But there was no denying his strength; age hadn’t stopped this man from doing well in a fight, Pero assumed. Not that he couldn’t take him, of course. He looked at the man’s belt and saw a one-handed axe attached to his belt and thought better of it, especially without his own weapons. 

Suddenly a small sting came from his foot and he snapped his head down at the young woman tending to the wound he’d gotten on his way back from the clearing. He’d almost completely forgotten about it, too cold to even really feel it. The young woman startled and blushed, keeping her head down as she cleaned the cut. 

“Det er et vakkert språk, da, er det ikke?” The first younger woman’s voice came through, a slightly entranced tone to it. (It is a beautiful tongue, though, no?) He looked to his left and saw her batting her eyelashes at him. He huffed a breath in amusement. He’d had his fair share of women giving him looks like that, almost always with a payment in mind, but his thoughts were elsewhere, even if it did feel nice. And she was a tad too skinny for his own tastes.

Pero exhaled. This was clearly getting nowhere. Fine. “Where am I? You know English, yes?” He asked, exasperated, in the general direction of anyone who might be able to answer him. 

The shy girl cleaning his wound lifted her head and smiled softly at him. “I know a little,” she said quietly, her voice heavily accented.

“Finally,” he sighed. “What is going on?”

“A few of our men found you in the forest, passed out. Your lips were blue.” She won’t make eye contact with him, bur her brows furrowed like she was worried for him. “We have lost some of our own men in a similar way before. It is not pretty.”

Pero hummed softly and nodded his thanks. “Did any of them see an old man? In the woods?”

The girl tilted her head and asked the man next to him, the one with the axe in his belt, if any of them had seen such a man. The man raised a brow and shook his head, looking at Pero skeptically. 

“Ingvar says–”

“Yes, I understood, thank you–” Pero cut himself off and looked back at the man with the axe. This was Ingvar? Pero looked back at the girl and nodded his head as she bandaged his wound, his own cloth wrapped around his ankle. He would have to be careful if he was to carry out this contract. “Thank you,” he repeated, the words foreign on his tongue.

The girl nodded, cheeks pink, and stood to leave. As she left, the cloth covering them moved to show a large fire in the middle of the hall with an even larger feast around it. The girl came back with a tankard of something for him and he took it gratefully. As the sweet liquid hit his tongue, he coughed slightly.

“What is this?” He wheezed a little, looking at the cup like it slapped his mother.

The girl giggled before saying, “Mead. It is honey wine.”

Pero rolled the words around his tongue for a moment. “Interesante,” he hummed to himself. (Interesting.)

“Vel, han er våken. Tilby ham noe å spise, men hold øye på ham. Han ser ut som en leiesoldat, og jeg stoler ikke på ham,” Ingvar grunted, leaving the room and rejoining the festivities. (Well, he is up. Invite him to eat, but keep an eye on him. He looks like a mercenary and I do not trust him.)

Pero watched him closely as he left, and took another drink of his mead, eyes hard. 

“Would you like some food, mister-”

“Tovar,” Pero grunted. “Yes. I am very hungry.” He turned on the cot and got to his feet quickly, but quickly lost his balance, a couple of the women catching him as he stood on shaky legs. He sighed in frustration and stood on his own, shrugging off their help. The girl held her arm out to him, and didn’t seem too offended when he just stared at it.

“Tovar. This way,” she smiled, her face a little pinched. 

“What are you celebrating?” He asked, looking around at all the food. His stomach roared at the smells.

“It is the third night of Jól. You have heard of Jól?” She asked excitedly, turning to him as she found a place for him to sit. He slowly made his way down at a long table nearby where Ingvar sat at the head of the table. A leader. This contract was getting more difficult by the second.

“I have not,” he grumbled. “What is this… Yool?” 

The girl giggled again, this time at his attempt at the word. “Jól is the celebration that welcomes back the sun from the harsh Winter. Our crops start growing as the sun comes back, and the snow melts away.”

Pero hummed as he listened, nodding his thanks when she handed him a full plate of different meats, root vegetables, bread, and cheese. “You are farmers?”

The girl nods. “Most of us. Some are warriors.”

Pero hummed again, chewing on a piece of meat. “How did you learn English?”

The girl turned a little sad, but smiled anyway. “We used to have a man that came from… Eng-land? He died last year,” she sighed. “He taught me and a few of the children how to read and speak English. How did you learn?”

Pero frowned around his food and sighed.

“I am sorry, forget–” Pero held up a hand to stop her. “Apologies. I am… unused to kindness from strangers,” he grunted, not meeting her eyes. “A dear friend of mine is from Scotland. We have separated so he could be with his woman. He taught me.”

“Scotland?”

“It is near England.”

She nodded, slowly picking at her own food. The two of them grew quiet and just ate for a while. The celebrations continued around them, and it gave Pero a chance to take it all in.

In the center of the hall was a large hearth, with an even larger tree in the middle, lighting up the hall. It looked like the one he was using earlier as a bench, so they must have gotten it from the same forest. He can’t be too far from there, then. There were candles and flames everywhere, lighting up the hall brightly, but warmly.

He looked back at the girl and found her already staring at him. She startled, cheeks going pink again, and looked down at her food. He smirked a little, but hid it well. She was amusing.

“What is your name?” He asked.

“Sigrid,” she said softly.

“It sounds strong.”

“Yes. I am more drawn to medicine, so I suppose the name is ironic.”

Pero chuckled. “Hardly.”

Sigrid smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of them again before Pero asked, “Who is Ingvar? He seems like a powerful man.”

“He is our Jarl. Our leader.”

“Is this like a king?” Pero furrowed his brows. He didn’t think this contract would be finished.

“Not exactly. But no less powerful.”

“I see,” Pero grunted. As if on cue, Ingvar stood from his seat at the head of the table, a large grin on his bearded face.

“Venner! Kvelden er ung, og festen er rik. Vær så snill, nyt, for mine gamle beindekk. Jeg ser dere alle i morgen tidlig.” Everyone raised their drinks and shouted… something, but Pero didn’t catch it. Sigrid leaned over and translated what Ingvar said for him. He nodded his thanks, but he was skeptical at best. Ingvar left through a door behind the throne that sat in the center of the hall. (Friends! The night is young, and the feast bountiful. Please, enjoy, for my old bones tire. I will see you all in the morning.)

“He cannot be that old, no?”

“He has been around much longer than I,” Sigrid shrugged. Pero laughed softly, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You are a child, of course he has.”

Sigrid rolled her eyes, but didn’t deny it. “If seventeen winters makes me a child, then yes.”

Pero choked on his mead and hit his chest to keep from coughing too hard. “Yes, it does,” he wheezed, laughing quietly. Sigrid laughed, too, eating some bread and cheese. A small child ran up to Sigrid and asked her a question as he tugged on her dress. Sigrid looked back at Pero apologetically and he waved her off, eating some more meat.

This was hardly the setting he expected for himself when he took the contract, but he couldn’t deny it, it was a pleasant one. The food was good, and the people seemed friendly enough. He couldn’t help but be confused by the contract; who was dumb enough to put a hit out on a powerful leader like Ingvar?

Sigrid mentioned that some of them were warriors. That didn’t surprise him at all. Just by looking at the people around the table, men and women alike, he could’ve figured that out on his own.

He sighed to himself and chewed thoughtfully. Suddenly, he remembered the small stone that pierced his foot. He looked around at the people around him to be sure no one was watching before he felt around his pocket for the stone. When he didn’t feel anything, his body went taut and he froze. Shit. They probably found it when they grabbed his weapons. Where were his weapons?

Sigrid came up to his side with the small child from before holding her hand and looking at him from behind her. “Tovar?” She asked softly. He looked up at her, heavy brow still pulled down. She gave him a quick once-over before clearing her throat. “We have sleeping quarters for you, but Lord Ingvar wishes to speak with you first.”

Pero chuckled humorlessly around his food before putting it down on his plate. He grabbed the mead and took a drink, making a face at the taste. He wasn’t sure he’d get used to that anytime soon. “Of course he does,” he sighed. “You will translate for me?”

Sigrid nodded, braided blonde hair swinging with the movement, and looked like she was trying to steel herself. He admired her mettle.

Pero followed after her, keeping light pressure on his foot as they went through that door Ingvar went through before. It led down a short hallway and ended up in a large bedroom. Ingvar was sitting on the edge of the bed before standing tall and fixing Pero with a hard look. Pero grunted and rested a hand on his hip as he leaned on the uninjured foot, waiting to get this over with.

“Hva heter du?” Ingvar grunted. (What is your name?)

“He asked your name,” Sigrid said softly.

“Tovar,” Pero narrowed his eyes. 

“Hvorfor er du her?” (Why are you here?)

Sigrid translated quietly.

“Your people brought me here. I was wondering the same thing,” Pero shrugged with an attitude. Ingvar gave him a look, clearly unimpressed. Pero rolled his eyes.

Ingvar looked at Sigrid and she blushed, nodding. “He didn’t mean–”

“Yes, I know what he meant,” Pero sighed. “I had a contract. I came to fulfill that contract.”

Sigrid spoke quietly and Ingvar seemed tired as he nodded.

“Var navnet mitt på denne kontrakten?” Ingvar sighed. Pero gave Sigrid a look as she quickly translated. (Did this contract have my name on it?)

“It did…” Pero raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. Ingvar nodded again, but Pero spoke up before he could say anything. “I decided not to complete the contract when I saw your celebration and… status. I may be a mercenary, but I am no fool. I do not go after lords or kings.”

Ingvar raised a brow and chuckled quietly before letting out a loud, hearty laugh. “Jeg vet ikke om du er smart eller dum,” Ingvar smiled, cheeks flushed with mirth. “Jeg takker deg, men tilgi meg for at jeg ikke stoler på deg helt, Tovar.” (I do not know if you are smart or stupid. I thank you. But you will forgive me for not completely trusting you, Tovar.)

Pero nodded and shrugged. “I understand.”

Sigrid looked between the two of them, looking much less nervous. She quickly spoke to Ingvar quietly, asking him a question. Ingvar nodded, a small smile on his lips.

“Nyt festen, Tovar. Vi diskuterer hva vi skal gjøre med deg om morgenen.” (Enjoy the festivities, Tovar. We will discuss what to do with you in the morning.)

“I wish to leave,” Pero grunted, looking between Sigrid and the Jarl. Sigrid looked a little crestfallen, but took one more look at Ingvar before he waved them off. She pushed Pero out of the Jarl’s quarters and back out into the celebration. “Sigrid?” Pero asked, confused.

She sighed before looking up at him. “The Jarl wishes to keep you here until Jól ends. To keep an eye on you, make sure you keep your word.” She started wringing her hands together and bit her lip.

“How much longer is Yool?”

Sigrid went quiet.

“Sigrid.”

“Nine more days,” she sighed, looking down.

Pero’s eyes went wide before he shut them and sighed heavily. He looked up at the ceiling and mumbled, “Joder yo,” under his breath. (Fuck me.) “Fine. Nine more days and I will leave.”

Over the course of the first four days, Pero was treated like he belonged with these people. He still didn’t quite know where he was. If someone were to give him a map, he couldn’t tell them, but he knew he was probably at the top somewhere. He was shocked at how much he liked it there despite the bitter cold.

He felt eyes on him the whole time and he didn’t like the feeling, but he understood it. 

He taught Sigrid and some of the children some Spanish words and in turn he was taught some words in their tongue. Norse, he was told.

Pero also found himself helping the warriors Sigrid mentioned before, called Vikingr. Their job was to sail to faraway lands, raid strangers of their belongings, and bring it back home. He didn’t judge. He’d done worse, and frankly, it sounded like something right up his alley. He mostly helped with keeping their longships cleaned for their next raid when the snow thawed.

And he ate. He ate a lot. There was so much food at the feasts in the evenings. He tried to eat as much as he could in the hopes that it would carry him on his journey home. Wherever that was. Every feast started with a chant and “offerings” to their Gods. Some of these “offerings” came in the form of the mead Pero had - reluctantly - grown to like, and other times it came in the form of one of the farmer’s poor goats. 

While he didn’t understand a lot of these people’s customs, he couldn’t deny it, they were a hearty people. 

He’d also caught the eye of some of the women there, too, but he mostly ignored them. They were all too young for him, and he was too busy not getting killed. He still wasn’t given back his weapons. Or the strange stone. His wound would take a while to heal yet, but he could put pressure on it again.

On the fifth day, he was helping chop wood for people’s homes. During the feast, everyone in the village congregated in the Jarl’s home to be surrounded by the fire given by the Jól Log and enjoy the food, but they all needed wood for their own homes as well.

He stopped to take a break and wiped the sweat from his brow as a cool chill blew past him. Pero looked to his left, the feeling of someone looking at him catching his attention. When he saw it wasn’t one of Ingvar’s men, he startled a little. It was a woman. Older than the ones that mostly watched him, and far more… Interesting. To him, at least. He raised a brow as she turned and left, clutching her basket closer to her body. He’d seen her around during his time there and she seemed to keep mostly to herself. She was unattached from what he could tell, and wondered why. She was beautiful. 

Pero snapped himself out of it and shook his head, going back to chopping the wood.

On the sixth day, he saw her again. He’d asked Sigrid what her name was as he saw her making her way through the market, and she said it was Helga. 

Helga.

He liked the name.

Helga was a thread-weaver. She made blankets, scarves, anything to keep one warm and covered. Pero was given clothing that suited the temperature better, and he felt strange without his armor, but he was never given a scarf. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted one before now.

He asked Sigrid if she could ask Helga for him for a scarf, and the girl giggled, pushing him toward the woman. He sighed and walked over to her, looking at the weapons and tools surrounding them at the market. He tried not to make himself too obvious, and it mostly worked, he thought. He was genuinely impressed with the craftsmanship of the weapons.

Pero sidled up to Helga’s side, but before he could say anything, she stepped away from the stand and walked back to her house. He watched her go and frowned.

This was going to be tougher than he thought.

The seventh day was much like the day before, but instead of chopping wood, Pero was asked to help around the Jarl’s home. He noticed a lot of the young women that stared at him worked there, so he tried to keep mostly to himself. He’d never cleaned linens or blankets before, but found it to be quite relaxing. There was a rhythm to it, and he could do it without much help.

“Tovar,” a young voice asked from his left. He looked up, finishing the fold of the blanket he was holding. He grunted in acknowledgement. “Jeg og noen av kvinnene har lurt på noe,” the girl was blushing hard up to her ears and biting her lip. (Some of the women and I have been wondering something.)

Pero smirked a little and nodded for her to continue. He picked up on the gist of what she was saying, thanks to Sigrid’s teachings of Norse.

“Hvor fikk du arret fra?” she asked meekly. (Where did you get your scar?)

Pero’s face pinched slightly and he shook his head. “I do not wish to talk about it.” The girl’s eyes went wide and she started scrambling out apologies, her hand pressed to her chest. A sad smile crossed his features before he shook his head. “It is okay,” he said quietly.

The girl frowned, cheeks bright red, but nodded as she turned and left. Pero exhaled quietly and looked down at the linens he was folding. 

“I do not believe she meant any harm,” a low, feminine voice said to his left. He hummed in acknowledgement before he froze, realizing that she spoke perfect English. He turned his head and nearly jumped out of his boots when he saw Helga standing there. She smiled and started helping him with the linens. “Tovar, yes?”

Pero huffed a laugh and nodded. 

“I have noticed you watching me.” She had a soft smile on her lips, brown hair pulled away from her face in a braid. She turned to look at him, blue eyes full of heat as she looked over his face and chest. 

Pero blinked, eyes slightly wider. He went to speak, but all that came out was a croak, making him cough. “Apologies,” he wheezed, the side of his fist pressed to his chest. “I am sorry for staring,” he mumbled, turning back to his own linens as his cheeks flushed. “I am still getting used to the customs here. There are two days left of your celebration, and I will be gone.”

Helga hummed noncommittally and pushed her small stack of folded linens toward him to add to his pile. “That would be a shame.”

Pero furrowed his brows and added her stack to his. He looked at her incredulously, but her head was faced down as she continued folding. He didn’t say anything and continued as well, his thoughts running a mile a minute.

“I thought only Sigrid and a few of the children spoke English,” he said after a few moments of silence.

“They are not the only ones.”

Pero snorted and shook his head. “Clearly not,” he hummed to himself. He cleared his throat and glanced at her before continuing. “When I arrived at this place, I was in the forest. I am not sure how far it is from here, but I saw an old man,” he started, keeping his eyes downward. “I was hoping I would see him here in the village, but I have not.”

Helga hummed a noise for him to continue. 

“He wore a cloak, the hood covering his head. He sat in front of my campfire, but I only saw one of his eyes,” Pero’s brows furrowed further, confusion filling his head. “I am not sure if he was missing one or if it was covered.”

Helga stopped folding and looked at him, a small smirk on her lips. “Did he have a long beard?”

Pero looked up and blinked. “Y-yes. You have seen this man?”

“Once or twice,” she said. “He is a wanderer. He does not stay in one place for very long.”

“Who is he?”

Helga bit her lip and shrugged. “He has many names. We cannot be certain which he likes best.”

Pero sighed in frustration. “Why was he at my camp?”

Helga smirked again and finished folding her linens. “Perhaps he was looking out for you,” she shrugged again, leaning over to pick up her basket of fabrics. “Enjoy the feast tonight.” She grinned and left the Jarl’s home, leaving Pero quiet and watching her retreating form.

Pero exhaled and looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. When he looked down, there was a scarf folded on top of her pile of linens. 

“Du får tingene dine i morgen, etter den siste festen,” Ingvar grumbled. (You will receive your belongings after tomorrow’s final feast.)

“Must I stay the whole time? I wish to return home,” Pero growled, crossing his arms over his chest. Not that he had a home to return to.

Ingvar rolled his eyes and waved him off. Sigrid grabbed his elbow and pulled him out of the Jarl’s bedroom. Pero grumbled obscenities in Spanish to himself until he was sat at a table in the hall. It was the eighth night, and he was getting tired of being watched constantly. He had no intention of hurting anyone here. He might if they didn’t give him his things, though. The people around him continued to have the same energy this night that they always seemed to. He supposed that came from actually understanding what you were celebrating, and not having to worry about death or arrest at every corner.

“You leave tomorrow evening, yes?”

Pero startled and looked to his right. Helga sat next to him, a plate of food in front of her. She smiled warmly at him and he softened. “How do you do that?” He huffed a laugh and shook his head before grabbing a piece of meat and eating it.

“You do not pay attention,” she said simply.

He squinted his eyes at her and grumbled around his food that he did too pay attention, thank you very much. She laughed softly and it made him bite his tongue. She had been nothing but kind to him while he was there and she didn’t deserve the frustration he felt to be forced on her.

“Where do you live?” Helga asked softly. “Where will you go?”

Pero bit his lip as he tore a piece of bread in two. “Nowhere. I am a mercenary. I go where the work is,” he shrugged, shoving the bread in his mouth. 

“You enjoy this?”

Pero raised a brow as he chewed. 

“You like not having anywhere to call home? You do not have to leave,” she hummed around her own food, taking a drink of some mead.

“What do you mean? Of course I do,” he scoffed. “Ingvar wants me dead. His men are constantly watching me.”

Helga rolled her eyes. “You really do not pay attention,” she sighed, setting down her cup and turning to face him. “You have not heard how people talk about you?”

“I am still learning the language,” he frowned, chewing messily and lips greasy.

“Why are you learning the language if you want to leave?”

Pero blinked and looked down at his plate. He frowned, thinking about it. Why was he learning the language? 

“Because you like it here, Tovar,” she said softly. “We like you.” It went unsaid, but he got the feeling that she liked him, too.

“Pero.”

“What?”

“My name is Pero.”

Helga smiled, pink dusting her cheeks. “I do not think you will have many people protesting if you stay. The children love you. And I think you would make an excellent Viking.”

Pero raised a brow and exhaled, thinking about it. Having a place to call his own would be nice. And he was familiar with the kind of work the warriors did, from what he’d heard. 

“You do not have long to think about it, Pero,” Helga hummed. She picked up her plate and stood before leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “I would like it if you stayed,” she whispered into his ear. He looked up at her with soft eyes and she smiled down at him with her hand on his shoulder before turning and leaving.

Pero shut his eyes and exhaled once again, then looked in the direction of the Jarl’s personal quarters. 

Would it be such a terrible thing to stay?

On the ninth day, Pero woke with a startle. He thought he’d heard a whisper next to his ear again. He’d been mostly dreamless while he was in the village. Last night, after his talk with Helga, he dreamt about the old man and the wolf in the woods. He didn’t understand any of it, and he barely remembered what the dream actually entailed, but he remembered the feeling. He felt… odd. Not bad or wrong. Just… different. Comforting. 

As he got dressed in the clothes that were given to him, he looked over at the scarf Helga gave him. It was a brown color and the material was rough, but also thick and soft. It kept his ears warm. He wrapped it around his neck before slipping his feet into his boots, making sure to be careful of his injured one. He made his way over to the Jarl’s quarters and knocked on the door.

“Er du sikker?” (Are you sure?)

Pero nodded, arms crossed over his chest. “Yes.”

Ingvar sighed and crossed his arms, too. “Du forvirrer meg, Tovar. Men hvis dette virkelig er det du vil, tror jeg ikke at jeg ser noe problem med det.” He shrugged and looked at Sigrid’s smiling face. “Gå og hent tingene hans.” (You confuse me, Tovar. But if this is truly what you want, I don’t suppose I see a problem with it. Go get his things.)

Sigrid nodded happily and ran from the room. Pero and Ingvar awkwardly avoided eye contact. Even if neither of them were enemies, the circumstances of their acquaintanceship were less than ideal. When Sigrid returned, she was carrying Pero’s weapons in both arms and looked to be struggling to do so.

Pero furrowed his brows and gently took the weapons from her. She sighed in relief, but smiled shyly up at him. “I am happy you decided to stay,” she giggled.

Pero smiled down at her, then gave a grateful nod to Ingvar before leaving the room. Sigrid walked next to him while he attached his sword and hunting knife to his belt. He carried the armor under his left arm. “Me too,” he grunted awkwardly. “I am unsure how I will fit in, but…” He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck.

“I think you will be fine,” she nodded, sure of herself. One of the small children, a younger brother of hers he found out, came up to her and tugged on her dress. He mumbled something Pero didn’t quite catch. Sigrid tapped on his shoulder to get Pero’s attention, making him look down at the two of them, dark eyes intimidating, but soft. “She lives at the end of the village,” Sigrid winked, then took off with her younger brother.

Pero’s cheeks flushed, but he chuckled to himself. He made his way through the village, waving or nodding to people as he saw them. It was strange, being accepted as he was. He wasn’t the only gruff and hardened warrior here, and no one seemed scared of him for his scars or his accent. The feeling was so foreign to him.

As he walked up a small hill toward the end of the village, he heard a quiet thud against the grass. He looked down and saw the strange stone from the forest laying there. Right, he’d completely forgotten. It must’ve fallen from his belongings. He picked it up and looked at it, thumbs running over the strange markings. It was almost shaped like a fork, but with three prongs. Maybe Helga would know what it meant.

When he made his way in front of the door of the last house in the village, he hesitated before knocking. The sun was slowly setting and it was getting a tad colder, so he eventually knocked. 

“Et øyeblikk!” (One moment!)

Pero smiled to himself as he heard her voice behind the door. Once the door opened, he raised his head and smiled sheepishly, the shape on his face still foreign to him.

Helga’s face softened as she saw him and rested a hand on her hip. “Well, come on in, then,” she grinned, opening the door wider for him. He nodded gratefully and stepped inside her home, the smells of burnt leaves and the feeling of a warm fire engulfing his body. 

“I will find my own home, you need not keep me here if–”

“Hush,” she chuckled softly, taking his armor from his arms and putting it in her bedroom for cleaning later. “You are more than welcome to stay here,” she looked up at him with a bit of shyness. The first time she’d ever looked at him like that. “If you want to, that is.”

Pero took two steps closer to her until his face was mere inches from her own. “I want nothing more,” he said softly, rubbing the knuckle of his index finger against her cheek. She shut her eyes and exhaled softly, nodding. 

“I was just getting ready to go to the feast,” Helga smiled, looking up at him. “Would you like to join me?”

Pero’s lips quirked up into a soft smile of his own before he remembered the stone he was holding. “Yes, but first,” his brows furrowed in thought. “It is silly, but… I found this strange stone while I was in the forest.”

Helga hummed and tilted her head to the side, letting him continue.

“It has a marking I have never seen before. Do you know what it means?” He asked, showing her the stone lying in the palm of his hand. She picked it up and rubbed her thumb over the marking like he had before.

“Where did you find this?” Helga asked, face pinched in confusion.

“In the forest. There was a small clearing with a bloodstained stone, and–”

“The ritual site,” she smiled up at him, clutching the stone in her hand. “We sacrificed one of the cows on the first day of Jól there.”

Pero blinked down at her, hands holding her arms and rubbing softly. “I see…”

Helga laughed softly. “You’ll get used to it,” she winked. “This is one of the runes. It seems we forgot one.”

“What does it mean?” He hummed, cupping her face in his large hand. He rubbed his thumb against her cheek.

“Protection,” she said softly. She looked at his lips, then looked back up at his eyes. He did the same and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. They stayed there for a few moments before he released her and pressed his forehead against hers. 

“Surely the feast can wait a few moments,” he growled into her neck, kissing against the soft skin there. Helga bit her lip and smiled, fingers tangling into the thick curls at the back of his head.

“It can,” she gasped, startled by the small nip he left against her shoulder. Pero slowly walked them toward her bedroom and laid her on top of the bed. The curtains in front of the window were drawn. Something caught his eye in the window and he looked out, hovering over Helga’s body. 

In the distance, on top of a hill, was a large black wolf. It seemed to make eye contact with him before it turned and left.

A chill ran down Pero’s spine.

a/n: if you're at all curious, here's a decent idea of what i imagined the stone to look like 🥰

[beloveddawn-blog]

Muppet (A Christmas Rescue)

I'm feeling a bit melancholy and sentimental due to my period so I wrote up the story of how my Gandparents ended up with the only dog they owned that was actually lap sized and absolutely useless for farm work. This was finished in an hour and has been slightly dramamtized due to the POV, but I like it. Names have been changed where applicable.

Warnings: animal abuse, mentions of trauma responses, death mentions, hypothermia

Words: 1500

COLD!

It was all she could feel, deep down in her bones. Deep down in her soul. An all consuming, leeching, damning cold.

But it was still better than Before.

It had been one moment of inattention, one moment of stupid courage, and she had run. Out the door, down the steps, and into the howling snow. Away. She could hear him, the worst one, screaming after her but unwilling to actually follow without being prepared for the biting Northern winter.

“Die out there, you stupid bitch!” He called after her, and she cowered even as she fled. “Good riddance!”

Perhaps she would. Perhaps all her life would boil down to suffering and death and never knowing why. Why was she so cursed, when others like her were so happy? Why was she hated, even as she was coveted?

Why was it always her?

*

There was nothing outside to eat. It was the deepest, darkest part of winter, and beyond that she had never been taught how to get her own food. What little she had been allowed had been grudgingly given by his hand. The pain in her stomach distracted her from the numbness in her feet, but it didn’t actually make her feel any better. A scent caught her attention then, one she was passingly familiar with. Food. Not the cold, hard stuff she was given, but rich and warm and meant for special occasions. She drifted towards it, finally having a goal in her bleak existence. Even if she never got there, at least there was a direction. It was more than she’d ever had to go on before. She would head towards it, and she’d either find it or die. It was out of her control now.

*

The sun set, and the cold settled in even harder.

She trudged on.

*

When she finally reached the house she thought her mind was playing tricks on her. It had been so long and all she’d had to follow was that maddening, hated, LOVED scent… And now she was here, at a place she’d never actually expected to find. She circled it warily, knowing all too well that those rough, masculine voices coming from the building meant nothing but pain for her if she was discovered. She was hoping to find either some trash or an open door she could slink through, but there was nothing. Nothing but that delicious smell wafting through the one cracked open window, whisked off to areas unknown and buoyed on the sounds of violence coming from within. She’d never heard so much yelling! Normally it was just one voice, just his, but this house had multiple yelling people!

She considered reaching out anyway, getting their attention and taking her chances, Before she had thought nothing could be worse than the pain and misery of her previous home… but she didn’t want to die. And she was. She was getting slower, her mind was getting slower, her voice didn’t work and her limbs just swatted uselessly at the walls, unable to even generate a sound.

There were some steps around the other side that lead up to a door. She couldn’t use it but there was shelter there, of a sort, tucked into the recess with the wooden slab. Some warm air leaked out around it and the house itself blocked the worst of the wind and snow.

She huddled up there, tucked into herself in as small a ball as she could manage, and waited.

Surely death would not take too long.

Surely.

*

There was a sudden blast of warm air and a jostle as the door swung open. Someone far too energetic tripped over her, just a little, but she couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped her. She was so cold that everything ached, and every little movement felt like burning needles jabbing in and leaving more cold behind.

“What the…?” Came a soft, young voice, and she gave a startled, wheezy yelp as she was picked up. “A dog?”

Suddenly they were in the house and moving way too fast and the young person was yelling and people were gathering…

“Dad! Dad! Dad! There was a dog outside! Dad, a dog!”

“It’s probably one of the neighbour’s is all. Grandma can call around and figure it out.”

“Are you sure that’s a dog? It looks like a pile of snow.”

“Of course it’s a dog, do you need even thicker glasses you…”

“ENOUGH.” Came the bellow that caused all the other voices to fall silent. Even the two males who had been fighting earlier and started up again as soon as she arrived cut off mid insult. “I have had it with your fighting! Make yourselves useful. You go get me your Grandpa’s clippers, and you go get me some lukewarm water. I’m not sure if this is a rat or a bush under this snow, but it’s not going to survive if it stays caked like this. We need to warm it up.” It was a gruff voice, with no trace of warmth to be found, but the hands that wrapped entirely around her body and lifted her away from her saviour were gentle, so very gentle. “Eileen, go get me a blanket. We’re going to get fur everywhere if we don’t have anything to catch it.”

He was softer then, but his voice still carried complete authority. That didn’t stop the girl who found her from whining at him.

“But Dad, why can’t Alan do it? I don’t wanna leave the dog, it’s scared!”

“Because Alan threw his boots on to go finish your chore, brat. It’s not like you brought in firewood.” There was a clatter of what was probably wood hitting the floor as a new voice joined in, this one full of good humour. “I’m gonna go grab some more. We’ll need it if we’re trying to warm up that puddle there. Put this away once you get that blanket for Dad. The best thing you can do for the dog now is help.”

The girl gumbled but obeyed, and she was suddenly left alone with the owner of that gruff, commanding voice. She shrunk back, wincing as he tugged futilely at the heavy snowpack mats in her hair. He gave up after a moment, seeming to notice he was doing more harm than good. “It’ll all have to come off, mutt.” He told her, carefully arranging her on the blanket his daughter had finally returned with. “We can’t warm you up with your fur in the way. Not fast enough, at any rate. Don’t worry, we’ll bring you home in the car.” His manner was brusque and reserved as his sons began returning with their own requested items, but the hands that slowly stripped her coat from her remained kind even as they firmed to prevent her from wiggling. She gave a half-hearted growl as he approached areas that she suddenly remembered had hurt even before the cold, but all he did was move slower and more carefully as he cataloged the extent of her injuries.

“It looks like a muppet.” The cheerful voice remarked as he helped the gruff one move her around. “Specifically Animal. I wonder if it can play the drums.”

“She.” Replied that no-nonsense voice as he carefully shaved her belly.

“I wonder if she can play the drums.” The cheerful one corrected, only to jostle her slightly when one of the argumentative ones smacked his shoulder and groaned.

“HEY!” The gruff one bit out, causing the three youngest to jump. “I’m using trimmers on a very skittish animal right now, stop roughhousing. If you can’t behave you can go be useful. Get some water and leftovers from your mother. Soak some bread in the turkey grease and bring some shredded meat back. We’re going to start her on the bread and if she can stomach that move on to the meat.”

The young man in question did as he was asked, chastised and repentant. Everything fell silent then, save for the whir of the clippers. It was the cheerful one who spoke up next, his voice oddly solemn.

“We’re not going to look for the owners, are we?”

The gruff one grunted and the eldest youth continued. “I can see her ribs, Dad. We’re not giving her back, right.”

The clippers stilled for a moment. “She’s more bruise than dog. Anyone who wants this little rat back can speak with my shotgun.”

The girl whooped with excitement. “I’m getting a dog!” She bragged to the others, and the cheerful youth laughed mockingly at her.

“Don’t be ridiculous Eileen, you’re twelve and you have a horse to take care of. You aren’t getting a rat-poodle rescue mutt, Dad is.”

The gruff one stilled for a moment, then gave her a soft scratch behind one shaved ear. “I suppose I am.” He replied, the gentleness in his hands bleeding into his voice for the first time. “I suppose I am.”

@coffeeangelinabox @stesierra @squarebracket-trickster @acertainmoshke @evilgabe29 @minnieposting @leahnardo-da-veggie @the-ellia-west @slimylittlemaggot

[watchingspnagain]

Rewatching Sympathy for the Devil

Welcome to “Sexy Dom Murder Cas and Unhinged Possibly Queer Expert German Cuckoo Clock Repairmen: A Supernatural Rewatch Blog” with Lor and Mace!

Up today, s5e1: Sympathy for the Devil

Luci anesti and the boys are left reeling from poor Sammy’s massive fail. But while they’re struggling to navigate this new phase in their brotherly relationship, the hits just keep on coming: Bobby, while possessed, plays on Sam’s sense of self-loathing, and then Dean finds out that *he’s* the sword of Michael, meant to become his vessel in the Final Battle. He gives the asshat angels a big NOPE and is trying to deal with the immediate and violent fallout from that decision when Cas swoops in with his sexy dom voice and rescues them. Meanwhile, back at the Satan Ranch, Luci is busy gaslighting his own potential vessel. It’s about to get real, y’all.

[and we begin:]

Lor:

many many guitar chords

Mace:

HA!

Lor:

nnnnnng Cas

Mace:

YES

Lor:

the way they both grab onto the other's jacket

Mace:

YES

Dean’s first thought is Cas. But yeah, they’re just buds.

Lor:

YEP

"well. my HEAD hurts"

Mace:

HA

Lor:

oh Dean. "are you sure"

Mace:

oh man

Lor:

"Cas, you stupid bastard"

Mace:

YES

Lor:

ew ZACH

Mace:

ASSHAT

Lor:

YEEEES

"maybe we let it happen" ug

Mace:

Dean’s collar is UBERPOPPED

Lor:

YAAAAS

because he has the ATTITUDE

Mace:

CRAM IT WITH WALNUTS

Lor:

"cram it with walnuts, ugly" OMG

Mace:

i need to work that into my daily vernacular

Lor:

HAAAAAHAHAHAHA

YES  

oh zach do NOT call Dean son

Mace:

right?

Lor:

"you listen to me, boy" oh now Dean's REALLY not gonna do anything you say

Mace:

oh look, they underestimated Dean. Fun.

Lor:

"I learned that from my friend Cas you son of a bitch"

"supernatural methadone"

Mace:

HAHAHA

Lor:

oh boys

Mace:

yep

I’m so glad we’re getting to the Luci era

Lor:

YES

this dude plays the most unhinged possibly queer expert German cuckoo clock repairman on one ep of Northern Exposure and it is a TRIP

Mace:

wow. that is a NICHE role

Lor:

RIGHT?

ug. Becky

Mace:

snork

Lor:

BECKY YOUR IMAGINATION IS CLEARLY DEFICIENT

Mace:

SNORK

Lor:

omg Dean's eyebrow raise when she says the demon stuff was getting old

Mace:

HAHAHAHA

Her tastes are on point, though

Lor:

Ahem

she SHOULD get her hands off your Sammy though

Mace:

I mean, I want to slap her hand away from Sam’s chest but only because I want mine there...

HAHAHAHA

Lor:

LOL

"I heard, Romeo" I LOVE BOBBY

Mace:

YES

Oh SAMMY. THAT FACE.

Lor:

RIGHT?

Mace:

oh GOD THAT. FAAACCCEEE

Lor:

he is so GUILT

Mace:

So. Flipping. Hot.

I like the parallel between Bobby’s “boy” and the angel’s

Lor:

omg his EYES

Mace:

although, BACK THE FUCK OFF, BOBBY

Lor:

mmhmmm

Mace:

BOBBY I WILL KICK YOU SQUARE IN THE NUTS

Lor:

LOLOLOL

castle on a hill of 42 dogs

I love it

Mace:

OH! I’ve been bamboozled!!

Lor:

YOU HAVE

(I remembered)

Mace:

How did I not remember this?

Lor:

DEAN SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER

Mace:

(well, how many times have you watched this ep?)

Lor:

Bobby only tolerated John bc he was their father. Come on, Dean

mmm. five?

Mace:

yeah, so quit with the smug

Lor:

LOLOLOLOLOL

Mace:

MY FAVORITE MEG

Lor:

YES

GET YOUR FILTHY LIPS OFF OF DEAN

Lor:

ooooof. Poor Dean always having to talk possessed people he loves out of killing him

oh Nick. this is where you call a friend, buddy

Mace:

yeah

Lor:

friends don't let friends get gaslit into saying yes to Lucifer

Mace:

poor Sammy. he really needs some comforting in this ep

Lor:

he really does

and I know this is exactly what Bobby would want them to do, but I hate that they have to leave him alone in the hospital

Mace:

yeah

Lor:

"oh thank god, the angels are here" DEAN

Mace:

HAHAHAHA

Lor:

oh Dean

"it's you, chucklehead"

Mace:

YAS

Lor:

I LOVE THIS WHOLE MYTHOLOGY SO MUCH IT IS DUMB AND SO PERFECT ALL AT ONCE

BACK OFF ZACH

Mace:

HAHAHA YES

simpering wad of insecurity and self-loathing. that’s a little on the nose

Lor:

THE ONLY ANGEL ALLOWED TO SPEAK TRUTH TO DEAN IS CAS

because he is Dean's shield

(I LOVE IT SO MUCH)

Mace:

YEP

oooh, smarty DeanDean

Lor:

"you need my consent" I LOVE IT

YES

Mace:

omg those little winks

AM DED

“on the other hand, eat me.” HAHAHAHA

Lor:

he's a smarty smarty and everyone always underestimates him

YAAAAAAS

omg his voice when he says no

Mace:

YES

Lor:

STOP TOUCHING DEAN

Mace:

MY GOD CAS IS HOT

Lor:

YAYAYAYAY CAS

YES HE IS

Mace:

MURDER CAS IS HOTTIE CAS

Lor:

RIGHT?!

omg someone give Sam back his lungs 

I love it when he BAMFs

Mace:

SNORK

Lor:

lookit his hair all mussed and his coat all disarrayed

Mace:

YESYESYES

OOoo he’s got his dom voice on

Lor:

"now put these boys back together and go" DED

Mace:

DED ONCE AGAIN

Lor:

so ded. on the floor. several times

staying down here on purpose. ahem

Mace:

CARVE MY RIBS NEXT PLS CAS

Lor:

"no I carved it into your ribs"

omg the difference bt Sam's and Dean's faces when he says that

Mace:

YES

Lor:

goddamn it, Cas, your boy has abandonment issues don't just LEAVE

Mace:

HAHAHA

Lor:

"sure. naturally. could you do me a favor, there, Satan" haaaaaahahahahaha

Mace:

YESYESYES I LOVE HIM

Lor:

so if Nick is also a vessel for Luci, does that mean that Sam and Dean are related to him somehow?

Mace:

yeah I’ve wondered that before

Lor:

actor is a real asshat but he does an AMAZING job at this

Mace:

he is?

Lor:

yeeeah

Mace:

what’d he do?

Lor:

well he's BIG into Ayn Rand

Mace:

Aha. enough said, then.

Lor:

yeaaaah

Mace:

what a putz.

Lor:

ooooh Bobby

Mace:

maybe nick is just a vessel on the level of Cas’s vessel, esp since he doesn’t last long before he starts breaking down

Lor:

"screw him, you'll be fine" I LOVE YOU DEAN

Mace:

YES

Lor:

yeah, that's true. the vessel falls apart fairly fast

"they can find their own planet" lololol DAD GAVE IT TO US, NOT THEM NYAAH

Mace:

a GED and a give-em-hell attitude. ADORABLE

Lor:

"a GED and a give em hell attitude"

YES

"it's been said"

Mace:

YES

oh Bobby. good on you

Lor:

"that was the demon talking"

YES

SO MUCH BETTER THAN JOHN

Mace:

omg that Sammy smile with the dimple

he is KILLING ME

Lor:

YES

"I'll fight. I'll fight to the last man." oh, hon

Mace:

both of these boys need therapy so hard

Lor:

RIGHT?!

Lor:

I hate when they get all grrr and can't get on the same page, but I do like this representation of the idea that sometimes you understand but still can't get past it

Mace:

yeah

although the Sam Girl in me thinks Dean’s being just a smidge of a whiny lil bitch here

Lor:

sigh

I AM SHOCKED

SHOCKED I SAY

Mace:

HAAAAAAHAHAHAHA

[whybedennydifferent]

top five coronation street characters please

AHHHHHHHHHHH ok

5. Richard Hillman. the street's greatest villain!!! an icon. when an extended episode meant something. he taught me what gaslighting was and he gave me nightmares

4. Steve McDonald. he just cheers me up. in another life he's a northern club compère

3. Tracy Barlow. gobby dark haired red lipstick ultimate soap bitch florist!!!!! I've always loved her and I always will

2. Jack and Vera. we watched a couple of Christmas episodes from 2006 yesterday for convoluted reasons and they were still there and alive and snapping at each other and SO in love. in some ways it never recovered after they died, their dialogue was of a different era. even Norris and Mary didn't really cut it

1.David Platt. I don't know how to describe it he is family to me!!!! he's got the sharpest tongue on the street, takes just after his gran, and has gone from causing chaos everywhere he goes to loving dad and husband it actually makes me emotional. and he can still wind Gail Platt up better than anyone. I want Jack P Shepherd in the Jungle

[tin-wufborf]

Teen Wolf Rewatch: Season 1, Episode 1—“Wolf Moon”

All right, party people, please prepare yourself for my morally grey and overly cynical rewatch of a show I both love and hate more than anything. Also, I’m a rambler and a ranter, so this is gonna be long, no doubt.

Also, fair warning, I am not a fan of Scott McCall, so if you’re a proud card-holding member of the Scott McCall Defense Squad (dumb name btw), I recommend that you keep on scrolling because you do not want to engage in discourse with me. I am a petty little bitch and absolutely will argue with you for the sake of arguing. Ya’ll get hilariously upset about people’s dislike of him, and it gives me great joy to see the absolutely pathetic length’s you’ll go to in order to protect this piece of shit ass character.

I know he can’t help it, but I could not stop staring at DOB’s stress herpes that appears intermittently throughout this episode. Like, you can almost track what order scenes were filmed in based on the size of the middle of his top lip. Poor baby was absolutely pressed on his first real acting gig, and his body was absolutely responding to it.

As someone who is from Northern California and has spent time in our wooded areas and forests, it is laughable to me how much these Georgia woods could not be mistaken for California forests in a police lineup. Like, I know they had to make do with what they had, but holy fuck, the foliage in these two states aren’t even fucking close, my dude.

I always love that Scott has a guitar in his room throughout the entirety of the show, but we never once find out whether or not this fool can actually play. Like, it’s literal set dressing, and it’s even more hilarious when you consider that Tyler Posey actually can and does play the guitar. They could have given Scott a cool little skill if they wanted, but they were like “eh, he does lacrosse, that’s enough character traits for Scott”.

Maybe Scott had a fucking asthma attack while looking for the body because he wouldn’t just shut the fuck up and stop complaining about the thing he wasn’t forced to do. Jesus christ, Scott, shut the fuck up. We get it. You don’t wanna be here. But then, like, why did you go?

I also love that they wanted us to believe that Scott was that severely asthmatic at the beginning, but they start the show by showing him putting on a pretty impressive pull-up show and having a pretty nice body before being bitten, like ???

I love the Sheriff shining a flashlight through the sparse trees in the woods like you can’t see everything out there. You could run blindfolded through these trees and not hit a single fucking thing because everything is so damn far apart.

On a related note to the point above, where the fuck did these deer just appear from?? They literally just come from some sort of liminal space that exists behind the trees. Is there a platform nine and three-quarters situation happening in the trees of Beacon Hills?

All of the dead bodies and crime scenes in this show are so clean, my god.

I would have beat the fucking freckles off of Jackson Whittemore for how he treats people, stg. Little fucking punk-ass rich could. Ugh.

I kind of vaguely recall that the reason BHHS is all about lacrosse is that Jeff Davis was trying way too hard to be different, but like…what fucking Northern California public high school is this meant to represent? I’m not saying that it doesn’t or can’t possibly exist, but I would say that the overwhelmingly popular sports in our area are still your basic ass football, baseball, and basketball. In these parts, that’s a rich kid sport. Some public schools have lacrosse teams, but they tend to be even less popular than soccer teams out this way.

So, I love Lydia (or, more so, I love what fans have postulated about her and built her up to be in fandom because she actually kinda sucks as a character with real dimension in the show), but like…she is the worst version of a popular hot chick ever. Lydia Martin is a straight-up bitch in the first season of this show. Like…what a shallow little cunty bitch.

Will continue in a reblog because apparently this has gone on too long and Tumblr likes to tell me what to do.

[multusxcastalides]

@inspireswar​​ inquired:  “I can’t stand to see you this upset.” for jon

     Upset. It was an understatement as far as he was concerned. He was angry. There was rage inside of him. He should have continued his flight from Castle Black when he’d had the chance, maybe Robb would still be alive. Maybe not, but at least he had been there to defend his brother against the Northerners that had turned on him. Maybe Rickon and Bran would have still been alive if he had just set course for Winterfell. They might have been his half-brothers, but he would have protected the both of them with his life. Maybe Sansa and Arya would not be prisoners of the Lioness Bitch in King’s Landing. Sansa had never liked him much, but she was his sister. He would have stood between her and the bastard Prince if it had meant protecting her life. And Arya… Arya had, together with Robb, always been the kindest to him all his siblings. If only he could muss her hair one more time.

     And then Eddard and Catelyn. He had never gotten along with Catelyn Stark, but he had not wished her to die like that, watching her eldest son cut down by the people who had vowed to protect him.

     He turned his gaze on Lyanna - as far as he knew, the last family he had left - with tears welling up in his eyes. He was supposed to be a man grown, to shoulder the responsibilities of being a Brother of the Night’s Watch. But all he wanted to do was crumple at her feet and cry into her skirts. “Mother…” he muttered. “I do not know what to do.”

Comfort Sentence Starters || Accepting

[nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice]

oh, you're DEF a nerd, have these folks read ur meta??? top tier -turtleduck-vibes

okay I’ll be real, I’m kind of proud of my meta and am taking this opportunity to create a masterlist: 

why I think Aang was able to unlock the Avatar State beyond ‘damn this rock hit just the right spot’ + addressing The Northern Air Temple

why the Zuko Burning Toph’s Feet scene was important

Katara and Aang: having absolute power and choosing not to use it

we are getting emo about Aang and Bumi in this chilis

Azula: growing up with conditional love 

Azula. The deal with. What is? (exploring her motivations) 

exploring Azula’s decision to bring Zuko back to the Fire Nation in season 2 

how The Beach foreshadowed Azula’s downfall 

you know what? Ursa left a significant impact on Azula’s self-image and that is a Thing okay

Azula’s relationship with nonbenders and why she pushed everyone away 

what would an Azula ‘redemption’ arc look like? (+ why Zuko’s redemption arc worked and why Azula can’t have the same kind of redemption arc he had) 

why Zuko and Katara’s friendship matters

Iroh’s Impossible Position: exploring his relationship with Zuko versus his relationship with Azula (aka why Ozai is the worst and ruins everything) 

Zuko’s relationship with Iroh in season 2: why he blamed himself for Iroh getting shot in The Chase and why he wasn’t ready to accept unconditional love 

ATLA and the importance of letting people who love you help you

in this house we recognize how much Mai’s betrayal meant to Zuko

Ty Lee and Mai: overcoming fear in favor of love

we need to stop giving Katara so much shit for being mean to Sokka that one time

stop saying Jet didn’t have a redemption arc, Jet 100% had a redemption arc 

Jet and Azula’s parallels: two abandon children 

Zuko and Aang: happy under false identities 

Zuko’s denial (aka the meaning behind “Azula always lies”)

getting emo about Toph and Sokka’s near-death experience in Sozin’s Comet 

Zuko is a bitch and we like him so much 

Sokka and Katara’s arcs 

[chaoticpuff17]

A Dangerous Game

epilogue

masterlist

Here it is my darlings! The epilogue! I fully expect you all to come for my head, but enjoy! It’s been a pleasure to write it!!-- chaotic puff

Y/N enjoyed the August sunshine as she wandered the market. Her life had been peaceful since coming to the Italian countryside taking on a new name, a new life. She had taken a job at a local restaurant and found them a small house bordering one of the olive orchards that littered the countryside where Mark was able to find a job. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was freedom, blessed freedom.

Italy had been good for her. There was no JB, no Namjoon, no mafia to worry about. No one knew her here. It was the fresh start she needed after her time in Korea. Here she was a Canadian woman from Quebec by the name of Alice Morin living with her husband of a year Matthew, also from Quebec. It was quiet. The only unexpected thing had been the baby.

The baby had been a rather rude surprise. She’d only just escaped Namjoon when she’d begun to show early signs. It had been a doctor in Prague, one that she was not entirely sure was practicing medicine legally, that had given them the news. She was several weeks along in a pregnancy that she had never wanted to begin with, but she was determined to make the best of it, even if the child was Namjoon’s. 

She could remember turning to Mark with panicked eyes once the doctor had given them the news. They were on the run. They were trying to start a new life. They were both still grieving the death of a dear friend, more than one on Mark’s part. But Mark had taken her hands in his and smiled at her and told her that it would all be alright, that they could do this. It would be her tiny miracle, not Namjoon’s. He would make sure of that.

Eventually they’d made their way to Italy, establishing themselves in the northern countryside. It was a good life, more peaceful than she had ever known. The village was out of the way, vineyards and olive trees and above all sunshine. She loved it there, and for the first time every she was able to enjoy a pregnancy. 

She’d been almost too scared to acknowledge the baby at first. Mark had been more invested than she had worrying over the constant movement and stress it would cause to her and the little buddy as Mark called him. They didn’t actually know the sex of the baby. Because of the restraints on both funds and access to proper medical care, Mark had chosen the remote Italian countryside, and had settled on using the local midwife to deliver the baby when the time came which left them with no clue of the baby’s gender. 

Little by little, she had been able to become more excited about the baby. The nonnas of the village were more than happy to help with the pregnancy teaching her how to knit and sow, helping her put together the nursery, teaching her how to make proper Italian food. She couldn’t say how many times, she’d heard her boss being scolded by the local nonnas about letting a pregnant woman work so much. Mark also got his fair share of scoldings from the nonnas. 

They’d melded into the village quite well after being there for so long now, they had their own routines and rituals, a peaceful life. Part of which included her weekly visit to the local church to light a candle for Jackson.

The church was one of her favorite parts of the village. It was small but beautiful, like so many other things in Italy. The local priest was always kind enough to say a few words to her before he left her in peace to grieve and contemplate in silence. She’d never been particularly religious before, but this brought her comfort. After her trip to the church, she’d go to the market before she walked home.

“Buongiorno, bella donna!” An old man she bought flowers from every week called out as she came into view of his stall.

“Buongiorno, signore!” Her smile was bright, happy as she walked over “Come stanno i fiori oggi?” She asked looking over the flowers he had laid out.

“Oggi abbiamo bellisime dalie. Il tuo italiano sta diventando motto buono.” He complimented with a wrinkled smile already preparing the dahlias he had just mentioned. It was their tradition. Every week she would ask about the flowers, and he would tell her what he thought was the most beautiful that week and prepare a bunch for her.

“Grazie.”

“Come sta il bambino?” He asked motioning to the rather large swell of her belly.

“Calcia come un giacatore di futbol.” She replied with a tired but happy smile looking down at her belly with playful exasperation. She swore that the little one was trying to kill her from the inside out sometimes or at least enjoyed using her organs as a punching bag. “Sono pronto per la sua nascita.”

“Quanto tempo fino alla nascita, Alicia?” He asked handing her the bunch of dahlias.

“Sei settimane.”

“Cosí presto!” He cheered as she paid for the flowers. “Non veds l’ora di incontrare il piccolo. Io e mia moglie ci piacerebbe averti a cena quando nasce il piccolo.”

“Grazie. Mi piacerebbe molto. Ciao, signore!”

“Ciao, bella donna!”

She continued through the market stopping at stalls and bopping into the bakery to pick up some fresh bread all the while oblivious to the dark gaze that followed her movements. He watched as she laughed with vendors and smiled at the Italian boys that paid her compliments. His blood boiling. That was his wife, and she was pregnant with his child, and yet she was here with Mark. He was getting to play the father to Namjoon’s child. 

He’d been searching for her for months. Her disappearance had wreaked havoc on the manor, had wreaked havoc on him, but here she was perfectly alive and well and happy, and with another man no less. The entire organization had gone through an in depth cleansing, and GOT7 had been dealt with for good, all in preparation to bring her home. There was only one more pest to take care of.

 Namjoon had never once doubted that he would find her. There was nowhere in the world she could hide from him, though he was impressed by how long she had managed to hide from him. It had been eight months since he had last seen her, eight torturous months, but that would all be over soon.

It took every ounce of his self-control not to take her right then and there, but there were too many people there now for her to take her now. She would be in his arms soon enough though, and then she would never leave him again. To say he was shocked when he’d received news of her with a picture of her swollen belly would have been an understatement. He hadn’t even known she was pregnant at the time of her escape, but both she and their child would be home soon. From the look of her, it wouldn’t be long until they welcomed their little one into the world. Namjoon had immediately started preparations for both her and the baby as soon as he’d found her. Everything would be perfect for her and their child. All that was left to do was to bring her home. Her pest was already on his way back to Korea to suffer a slow and torturous death by Namjoon’s own hand. 

Namjoon followed her home carefully following her in watching from the shadows as she clipped the stems of the flowers and arranged them in a vase in her kitchen humming softly as she did.

“Hey, Tono.” She cooed as a cat jumped up on the counter next to her. She smiled down at the creature gently rubbing it behind the ears. “How did you get in here? You don’t live here, silly kitty.” 

She didn’t seem bothered though by the cat’s presence even if it wasn’t hers. She continued about her business arranging the flowers in their vase occasionally cooing at the creature in a mixture of Italian and English. Eventually moving into singing silly Italian children’s songs to the cat as it basked in the sunshine on her kitchen counter. 

The cat knew something she didn’t though his hair standing on end and hissing before jumping out of the open kitchen window much to her confusion. 

“Tono?” She asked moving over to the window to see where the cat went. 

“Hello, jagi.” He cooed coming up behind her wrapping his arms around her waist so that his hands rested against her belly as he breathed her scent in. “Did you miss me?”

She gasped dropped the vase to the floor as she spun around to face the man who still haunted her nightmares. “Namjoon.” She whimpered backing up until she was pressed back against the counter. “Don’t come any closer!” She yelped grabbing a knife and brandishing it in his direction. “Where’s Mark?” 

“Put the knife down, jagi.” He sighed approaching her slowly. “You’re already in enough trouble don’t you think?”

“Get away from me.” She whimpered keeping the knife pointed in his direction her eyes flashing wildly as she looked for an escape. “What did you do to Mark?”

“It’s time to go home, jagi.” He cooed growing increasingly annoyed by her asking after the other man.

“I’m not going back there.” She hissed inching her way towards the door.

“You don’t have much choice, jagiya.” He chuckled darting forward and grabbing her wrist, He pulled her closing putting pressure on her wrist to an almost painful amount until she released the knife with a clatter. He wrapped her in his arms again pulling her into his chest tightly though keeping her belly in mind, not wanting to hurt her or the baby. 

“Stop fighting me.” He hissed holding her still even as she struggled against him. “It isn’t good for the baby.”

“You son of a bitch.” She hissed continuing her struggles.

“That’s no way to talk to your husband, jagi, especially not after the trouble you’ve caused.”  He growled tamping down his annoyance at her continued defiance. Didn’t she know that there was no escape for her now? “Think of the baby, jagi.”

It was those words that ceased her struggles as she hung in his arms. She couldn’t risk hurting the baby even if it meant she had to go with Namjoon.

“That’s my good girl.” He cooed moving his hands to rest against her belly again. “It wasn’t very nice of you to hide our baby from me, but it will all better once we’re home.” He assured her 

She shuddered but didn’t fight anymore as the baby stirred uncomfortably responding to her distress. “Wait!” She yelped pulling against his hold again as he began to drag her out of the house. “Please wait!”

His gaze was annoyed as he looked back at her. “I have waited. Seven months is a long time, jagi.” He spat tugging her forward again.

“Please, I just need to grab something. Please, it’s for the baby.” He quirked a brow at her curiously as she looked up at him with desperate, frightened eyes. “Please.” She begged again eyes watering as she pulled against his hold.

“If you’re lying to me, jagi…” He warned but released her wrist and following her closely as she moved through the little house to the bedroom where a crib was situated by the window. The village had made that for them when she’d first started to show. Placed carefully over the edge of the crib was a blanket hand knitted with love for the baby.

She picked up the blanket folding it against her chest tightly almost like a shield. “I made it for the baby.” She breathed out with a shuddering under his harsh gaze.

He nodded lips set in a grim line before placing a firm hand against her back and leading her out of the house, shuffling her into the car that was waiting outside her home. They drove through the village to what she assumed was an airport waiting to take her back to her gilded cage, back to their game, and it was time to decide what to do, now that the chips were down. 

to be continued...

Italian translation: May not be entirely accurate. My Spanish is much better than my French (which is dismal), and my Italian is practically non-existent much to the shame of my godfather. 

good morning, beautiful lady.

good morning sir. How are the flowers today?

we have beautiful dahlias today. Your Italian is becoming very good.

thank you. 

how is the baby?

he kicks like a futbol player. I’m ready for him to be born. 

how long till the birth?

six weeks

so soon! My wife and I would love to have you for dinner after the birth. I can’t wait to meet the little one.

thank you. I would love to. goodbye sir. 

goodbye, beautiful lady.

[mountainscouts]

12 - Gregory/Christophe

12. headcanons for [character]?

edit: OH MG FOD i just realized the original question said "A" headcanon for a character. it meant a single one. oops. LMFAO SORRY I WROTE LIKE 6 BIG ONES.......

hmmm! i don't really think about those two that often BUT i appreciate their existence in the movie. i think i've thought about greg more but only by association of others... surprisingly not with chrisophe though. GOD i will say though i wish they actually had a convo in the movie, lots of potential there.

heres some headcanons i can think off the top of my head

a point i like making about gregory is that i think he's definitely more serious and prideful of his actions and way of thinking more than his vanity. yeah, he's handsome and he knows, but he doesn't really think about his looks but moreso his sharp way of thinking.

gregory's a very lowkey and subtle fellow and is probably REALLY passive aggressive. which is funny because i think it contrasts chrisophe's total bluntness. while greg would side eye you and give you a backhand compliment or something lowkey as that, chris has no qualms with calling you a dimwitted shit for brains.

christophe is a reckless mfer, like he's so self-sacrifical that it's pretty concerning. i mean he ""dies"" in the movie helping some boys he's never met till then. he's got the strongest sense of justice in the northern hemisphere and he's not afraid to do some crazy shit. i mean, he is based off les miserables along with gregory so .. lol

that being said, chrisophe's recklessness is definitely a detriment to gregory as he actually holds chrisophe in a high regard compared to most people. the two of them always manage to be alone together after chrisophe manages to get his shit kicked with gregory always lecturing him to be more careful and that'd he regret it someday. BUT OF COURSE gregory is too prideful to say he'd be the one mourning.

they probably argue a lot, even over the most mundane thing. gregory is probably one to nitpick something chrisophe does because he's kind of a bitch about it (but it's because he cares!!!!). but chrisophe could be the one to mock gregory too with how much he holds himself on his high horse. i mean, they really could he considered total opposites appearance and personality wise for better and for worse.

despite their differences, the two boys actually pretty close and have probably grown to respect eachother. since they're introduced as being 9 or 8 in the movie i imagine they grew up together for quite some time. yeah, they're supposed to just be tropes to fill a character slot in the movie but i simply do not give a fuck. they're partners in crime, ok??!??!

um this turned more into how i think about their dynamic more than anything. but whatever. they're HOMIES, your honor.

[shhhlikeme]

“Let me spoil you, Baby...”

What Kind of Extravagant Date Would the HQ Men Take You On?

Aran Ojiro, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Daichi Sawamura, Miya Atsumu, Asahi Azumane x Reader

———————————

Aran Ojiro:

Romantic Helicopter Ride 🚁🌁

this Olympic team CAPTAIN is a whole ass KING, you feel me?

Aran blindfolds you until you are up on the rooftop of one of the highest buildings downtown then her carefully takes off the blindfold, hugging you from behind as your jaw hits the floor

He hands you a hair tie so you can tie your it up since the spinning rotary blades make your hair fly everywhere (☹️a man)

He takes your hand and you two excitedly walk over to the helicopter where he greets the pilot with handshake, then lifts you up by the waist to place you inside

You can’t stop smiling omfg, it’s a dream come true !!!!

Aran climbs in after you, fixing your headphones on your head and you two kiss, holding hands the entire air ride!

The views are to die for and this gorgeous man literally can’t help but admire you as you peer out your window and dad-jokingly say that you can see the house you two share from up here (dkm💀)

Ojiro feels for his pocket just to make sure the ring that he plans to put on your finger is still there because before this ride is over he is going to commit to you in the sky, wanting that smile of yours and those bad dad-jokes forever 😌💕

———————————

Asahi Azumane:

Expensive Shopping Trip 🛍 👛

Ah bruhhhhhhh

This man is now a world renowned fashion designer b!!

Asahi is so thankful to have you. You have been there every step of the way: sending in his applications for fashion school because he was too nervous, bringing him coffee in the wee hours of the morning because he was still up working on that wedding dress sketch, and you were there by his side after he cut the ribbon on his first store opening in Paris, France

So now that Asahi had time and money after paying off his loans (and yours, secretly), he decided it was time to repay you out loud

Just before LA Fashion Week begins, your boo drives you two to Beverly Hills to shop at various name brand outlets except this trip is only for you 🛍

It took a lot of convincing because you didn’t want to use his money like this, but he said he would quit fashion if you didn’t do it, so you reluctantly agreed

After you stopped feeling bad you allowed yourself to really get into it, in awe at the stores and the beautiful decor alone!

Asahi couldn’t stop smiling as you gasped at the beautiful stores and you hugged the purses, jackets, and jewelry that you’ve only ever seen on Instagram but always wanted

You felt like you were in one of those makeover montages in those movies: the 14-year-old-you was S C R E A M I N G

Asahi sat outside the luxurious fitting rooms with his legs crossed looking like a snack and gave you detailed opinions on what he thought looked amazing on you every time you tried something on

He carried all of your bags btw, making a few trips to the car to drop them off

You thanked Azumane profusely when you had quite frankly shopped till you dropped, and he only kissed you in response and told you that this is only the beginning, and that you get to pick the city to shop in next time

———————————

Miya Atsumu:

Luxury Sports Car Road Trip 🏎💨

This bad boy who is an absolutely sucker for you thought he’d treat both of you to a luxurious dream date when he returned from Europe

Atsumu knows that one of your favourite things to do is go on long car rides..... especially sitting shotgun with your man 🤩

You were obsessed with it and

He just looked so sexy driving with one hand, his hand on your thigh 🤤

So upon return, Miya decided to rent out his dream car for the weekend, one of the most expensive cars in the lot, might I add......

He picked you up suuuper early from work in it, (telling your boss you had some kind of emergency) much to your surprise

You chastised him for lying to your boss but your smile told Atsumu you couldn’t be happier

After the initial shock of the near million yen car, you hopped in and you two were off! 🏎💨

Tsum let you choose the music 🥺🥺🥺 and you two glided up the mountains on the open road: car driving as smooth as seemed real, the windows down, the music blasting..... it was perfect

And the views! God damn:

You then turned down the music so you two could share stories of your favourite memories together as a couple and laugh together

You fed Atsumu fruit as he drove, and he tells you how much he loves you 🥺

———————————

Sakusa Kiyoomi:

A Private Dinner for two, featuring your F/A 🎼 💃

Holy fuck Kiyoomi is everything

He refuses to go to concerts because of the germs, but this black haired beauty knows how much you love them

He is saddened by how down you get when on occasion you have no one to go to concerts with if your friends are busy, sooo

After months of planning, one night when you are sulking on the couch because your Fave performed in your city yesterday and you missed it

Sakusa tells you to get dressed up because to cheer you up he is taking you to a nice dinner.......

You thought it was so sweet of Kiyoomi to rent out Osamu’s entire restaurant just for you two because the dinner was able to be so intimate, quiet, and alluring

You knew your boyfriend would know how to cheer you up.

But what you didn’t know was that as you ate in Osamu’s empty restaurant, your boyfriend had paid for a private concert for just you by your favourite artist (F/A) that you missed seeing yesterday

When you see F/A come out with their musicians you literally scream then faint and your man catches you and softly wakes you up

Your F/A and their musicians, serenade only the two of you for hours

After dinner you both stand up and sway to the music a bit with Sakusa leaning down to rest his forehead against yours like this was Prom 😩🥺

When you turn your head to watch the performers, Sakusa maintains his position, planting a kiss on your temple then pulling your waist in closer, absolutely smitten that he gets to be the reason for your smile

———————————

Daichi Sawamura:

Deluxe Igloo Stay ☃️🔥

WHEW

Thinking back..... you are glad you didn’t run for the hills when you found out how much of an outdoorsman your boyfriend was on the first date

While the outdoors wasn’t exactly your thing, Daichi and his ability to be the best boyfriend in the world WAS your thing

..Yes indeed

You agreed to go winter camping with your man (even though you hated bugs, the cold, outdoor showers, and just anything else related to camping) because you saw the way his eyes twinkled when he spoke about it

I mean shit How could anyone say no to those freaking brown eyes?!

But bitch— good thing you agreed...... because by winter camping your gorgeous man actually meant:

Staying in an igloo hotel was unimaginable

You never even knew they existed!

Seeing majestic polar bears walking around in the distance, seeing white snow flakes falling on your windows, hearing the cold winter breeze but only feeling the warmth of the fireplace, seeing the northern lights at night from the comfort of your own bed while your man had his warm arms wrapped around you:

it was absolutely the most breathtaking thing you have ever experienced

You two had a personal hot tub outside your hotel room which you sipped champagne in and made out in until the hot tub was too hot and you two had to move to the bed💕

Daichi would wake you up with hot cocoa in the mornings, and that was when you started mentally planning how you would propose

He never seizes to amaze you

Needless to say, for some reason, you are now a camping fanatic 😉

[xoxo-bunnydumpling]

Had dinner with Allie tonight, in the bakery after we closed. I like that I'm in charge enough to have a key, it kills two birds with one stone a lot of the time. She meets me here every Thursday, and helps me put away the remaining pantry stuff that I don't feel like dealing with after delivery on Wednesdays. Which is everything that doesn't require refrigeration. She actually cooked me something today, instead of the usual pizza with increasingly strange combinations of toppings. (Which is the way I always order pizza...I will often ask what their least ordered toppings are and build from there.)

So I've got my mouth stuffed with an admittedly EXCELLENT bite of eggplant rollatini when she asks me about the hot librarian. "How are you and Fargo getting on?"

"Fargo?" I considered for a moment whether I really needed to tell her that Minnesota and North Dakota are not the same place like, at all.

"He didn't mention that? Yeah I just started calling him yankee stuff and Fargo just stuck." She told me she's called him Prairie Home Companion, Northern Exposure, and Poutine before as well. "You like him?"

"Of course I like him. What's not to like?"

"No but...do you actually like him or is it just?" She then proceeded to mime a BJ until I spit out my food lest I choke to death laughing.

This bitch cannot possibly be insinuating that this is purely a sex thing.

"Look, I didn't sleep with anyone for years so having someone to...it's a welcome change." I meant that to sound better than it did. She didn't really let me fix it before she continued.

"I have to confess something."

In my head, my anxiety peaked and then somehow still kept spiking. I imagine that they did sleep together, that he fell in love with her, that she's in love with him and has decided to collect him. My best friend becomes the Jolene to my Dolly and I wouldn't blame either of them for letting it happen. They're the same kind of hot and that's how it works, right?

"I let him read your book. I'M SORRY."

"Oh."

"Why is your face? What did you think I was gonna say?"

I didn't say anything, just stared down at my plate but eventually she needled me enough that I told her.

"Youuuuu get on my NERVES. Fuck it, I'm calling him."

RED ALERT. HE CAN NOT KNOW HOW DEEPLY INSECURE I AM. HE CAN NOT KNOW THAT I THINK HE'S TOO HOT FOR ME BECAUSE HE MIGHT NOT HAVE CONSIDERED THAT YET AND I DON'T WANT HIM TO GET ANY IDEAS.

I got up and headed for the bathroom. I'm a nervous pee-er. I could hear her through the thin bathroom door. "Don't listen to me pee!"

"FARGO! We need your help at the bakery. No, we're fine. No, she's fine...wow though. Something's just heavy?" He can't be buying this. I wouldn't, even if I didn't know Allie is full of shit pretty much always. "Great, see ya soon okay bye."

FFS.

She's just trying to help. That's what she does. She sees us all as helpless. Not even maliciously, she just does. She thinks she knows the best route always and I let her do this because most of the time she does.

I also have not figured out how to stop her yet.

He showed up some time later in distracting grey joggers. I've been trying really hard not to objectify him thus far but FUCK MY LIFE, Y'ALL. He looked very happy to see me, but when he completely bypassed Allie to get to me and kiss me, I stopped him.

"I've had marinara."

"Oh please, I'm an adult."

Allie then mentioned the eggplant, offered him some, would not take no for an answer, and pushed him into the kitchen before he could even think of giving her a no to begin with. When he got there, he asked what was heavy and she waved him off. So much for her grand plan for...I don't know.

After a few bites, he leaned forward, his elbows planted on the prep table. "I'm also marinara'd now. Just saying." He has been kissing me for days, I have instigated not one kiss so far. So I got on my knees on the seat of the stool I was sitting on (y'all I'm only 5'2", so sorry) and stretched myself across the table...

"Are you gonna make it, honey?" He teased me, before kindly meeting me halfway.

"I really hope so."

[cher-writes]

Ethereal | Vladek Klimov x Reader (18+)

Read part 2

Word count: 4.6k

CW: Smut, NSFW, Wound, Blood

A/N: I know it's hella long but it irks me to make two people have sex when it doesn't make sense for them to do so. Hopefully you'll enjoy.

It was an exceptionally cold day. Not that it was never not cold in your little northern town. But even among the cold ones, that day felt a bit too cold to you. You were feeling lazy from the very moment you woke up, but after leaving your warm comforter the cold bit into your skin like a snake, even though you had the heater on. 'I gotta get this heater checked’ you thought as you opened up the blinds to look outside. Surprisingly it was neither snowing nor much cloudy. You could almost make out the sun behind the wispy clouds. This cold but almost sunny day lit you up with an amazing idea. You called in sick to your work without wasting any time. Quickly gulping down some leftovers and grabbing your meticulously packed little bag for this exact occasion you were on your way. Hoping none would see you was a terrible stretch of luck cause in that town, everyone knew everyone and everyone saw everything. You were confident you could lie your way out of trouble if you got in any so you didn't quite care anyway. You had only thought in your mind, The hot spring.

The hot water welcomed your skin like an old lover. As you hoped, the water soothed every aching and sore muscle in your body. The spring was empty as usual. The town people weren't quite fond of taking a bath there, unlike you, who even after being born and brought up there couldn't quite get over the euphoric feeling of bathing in a hot spring in the freezing cold weather. Sometimes you wondered if god made a mistake cause you clearly were meant to be in a more warm climate. The cold and the mundane nature of this place got under your skin way too often. Although there were some weird and unexplainable events occurring recently that left the town in quite an unrest. You knew some stuff but honestly you couldn't differentiate the truth from the rumors so you preferred to keep your distance. Anyway you didn't wanna think about that, all you wanted to do was to float in the tranquil hot water, tune everything out with the ecstatic feeling and you could do that forever.

Unfortunately, your forever was interrupted rather quickly as you felt waves behind you. You turned around only to be greeted with a man's face you've never seen before. And working at the local convenience store, it was unlikely you haven't come across almost everyone living in that godforsaken place. He was adrift a bit too close, and you were taken aback, visibly.

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else, didn't mean to scare you” he blurted out sensing your shock and possible discomfort.

“I-It's fine. I just wasn't expecting anyone to be around” you replied. you could see his piercing green eyes even through the steam and they were gorgeous, to say the least. There was this intensity in them that you've never seen in anyone's eyes before.

You could feel yourself staring. So as to snap yourself out of it and to break the uncomfortable silence you quickly spoke up, “You aren't from around here!”. You meant to ask but it came out as a statement somehow, his intense eyes were messing with your tongue.

“Hah! No. I'm not.” he said ever so calmly. You could make out his face clearly from the steam now, and it was angelic. His slick neck and collarbone glistened in the warm water, now at more of a distance from you than before. Yet to you it felt like he was almost pressing against your skin. It made you uncomfortable, in a sensual way. But you played it cool, you had to play it cool. You weren't the type to flirt with unknown people let alone feel this way for a complete stranger that you met like 30 seconds ago. But it was a fact that you never came across a stranger that looked like him. You couldn't really blame yourself for feeling like that. You shook off your body's fervent reaction to him and said, “I see. We don't really get any tourists around here, especially during these months. Are you visiting someone?”

“Not really. I'm here to fulfill my duty.” he said, the words rolling out his tongue like butter. You've always adored that accent, rarely you heard it around there.

-“Duty?”

-“Yes.”

You understood he probably wasn't interested in explaining anything further and you quite weren't in the state to ask anything either. Your mind was getting hazy. There was a considerable amount of distance between the two of you but his presence felt electrifying. The tension, you felt, was excruciating yet exciting. He on the other hand, seemed extremely and unusually composed. Even smirking, ever so slightly

You were starting to realize there was something unnatural about this man, your head now completely fuzzy and that was your cue to leave. You dipped in the water and swam away without saying anything else. You didn't look back when you got out of the water. When you parked your car in front of your house 15 min later, you were panting.

It had been a few days since you saw him. Yet you couldn't get him out of your head. You saw his intense gaze at the back of your lid everytime you closed them. There were things happening around you but you were out of it. You felt faded everywhere you went. It was as if he took a part of you with him. It was so dumb when you thought about it, you were with him for like 2 minutes at best, yet he rubbed off on you so badly that you couldn't stop thinking of him. And sometimes you caught yourself wishing you met him again, maybe feel his skin this time. You wanted it to happen so much yet you were afraid of it happening, no, you were terrified. Cause if you felt his skin once, touched him even for a moment, you would lose control over all your motor function. Feeling this hot and bothered for someone you didn't even know the name of, left you quite ashamed.

That evening when you came home from your disturbingly tedious job, you weren't expecting for your wish to come true and that too to such an extent.

You walked straight to your kitchen to pour yourself some rosé cause it was Saturday and you had nothing better to do. You preferred the high of alcohol more than whatever you've been feeling for the last few days. It was way better to be actually drunk. You heard some rustling behind you as you were emptying the first glass. You didn't pay it any mind. As you were pouring yourself the second glass you heard footsteps, that sent you on alert mode. When you turned around, ever so slowly, you saw the guy in glasses. Standing, rather leaning against the door frame, with his left hand pressing against the side of his stomach. You were out of everything these past few days that's for sure but you still heard about him. Panic struck you quicker than the alcohol could. ‘How did he get in?’ you thought then immediately answered you own question by cursing yourself for not properly locking the door, the want to get drunk as quick as possible came back to bite you in the ass. But beating yourself up for that wouldn't help now, the danger was already in. With your back against the counter you started fumbling around with your hands in the back looking for something sharp, anything but the only thing you found was the bottle of rosé and the half poured glass. You cursed yourself again and understood that luck wasn't on your side so you decided to run for your life cause you didn't wanna die yet. But your body froze in place and nothing you could do would help it move. Fear took over your being like a frostbite. All of this happened only in the matter of a few seconds. You were now standing there, glaring at him with wide terrified eyes, preparing yourself for the bitter embrace of death. He was standing there still, crouched a bit, till then. Seeing you stop moving, he laggardly took off his glasses and the mask and threw it aside. Your eyes darted towards the accessories as they fell on the floor with a soft thump. It was only then that you noticed he was bleeding all over your floor. When your eyes came back up to see his now bare face, your body went numb and blood flooded the back of your neck like a tsunami at the sight. It was him.

Nothing was making sense to you. Right then probably the alcohol kicked in cause you started feeling tipsy and was starting to doubt if all of that was just a mere hallucination. You were starting to spiral in your absurd thoughts when he spoke up, his voice sharp from the visible pain he was in, “w-will you help-p me p-please?”

Hearing his aching voice something went off in you. The fact that he was the guy in glasses, the dangerous demon people kept talking about, completely washed away from your immediate memory. You rushed over to him and held him by his shoulder to walk him to your bedroom. You helped him out of his coat and the clothings underneath. He inhaled sharply when the t-shirt brushed against the side of his stomach as he was taking it off. It was then that you could see the wound. It was ghastly and bleeding still. You gasped at the sight of it. You blurted out, “How did you get this?”

He didn't answer your question, rather went on to say, “it's a...um.. grazed bullet wound”. His voice strained from the agony.

“W-we need to go to the hospital, what if the bullet is inside!”, you said as your fingers were ghosting over the wound, your teeth clenched. You were growing more and more worried with every passing moment.

“Look at me”, he said firmly with his tired voice and you did, he was looking more human now. Still as unreal as that day, but somehow more human. ‘It's probably all the blood’, you thought to yourself.

“I can't go to the hospital, you understand? You have to help me however you can right here, yeah?” he had this expression, this strange mix of pleading and pain on his face as he said that and nodded slowly. You nodded back in return like an old partner in crime would. After carefully sitting him down on the bed and giving him one of your T-shirts that was just lying around to press over the wound, you practically ran over to your bathroom to get your first aid box. You came back equally hurried. He was slouching in pain. One hand pressing the t-shirt over his wound, other one supporting his body weight on the bed.

You laid him down slowly and then sat beside him. He hissed as you took off the now bloody t-shirt and exposed the wound again. You started cleaning the wound with an antiseptic liquid and you could feel his body shudder under your touch from the pangs of the liquid.

“I think it needs stitches” you looked up and said. He looked fatigued but still more beautiful than any human you've ever seen.

“Can you do it?” he managed to say, with labored breathing.

“I-i learnt it in highschool. I have the supplies but I don't know. It may hurt. I still think we should go to the hos-”

“Do it.” he cut you off quite abruptly. And as if under a spell, you complied.

Halfway through the process, you looked up to see him staring at you. His eyes sent a chill down your spine. The intensity was now setting in, he was half naked, almost under you, you were touching his warm skin and he was staring at you, like that. You couldn't bear the tension so you decided to speak up. Besides the questions were bubbling under the surface for quite a while now.

“How did you find my place?” you asked, and genuinely wanted to know.

-“Freya told me. She was curious to know with whom I confused her with.”

- “How do you know Freya?”

- “I do.”

- “and she told you my name too?”

- “Yes, (Y/N). She indeed did”

Your hand hitched a bit hearing your name roll off his tongue like that. You weren't prepared. He hissed at the sudden sharp pain.

- “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.” you apologized quickly. He didn't say anything. For a while you went quiet but the questions started pouring in again.

- “So why didn't you go to Freya's? You're clearly her guest. Why come to me?”

- “There were police at her place.”

And at that sentence, everything came back to you like a flood.

“Who are you? What's with you and the glasses? And what is this demon people keep talking about? What the hell is this bullet wound and how did you get it? Why are you on the run from the police? Did you kill someone?”, in one singular breath you asked. Your hands stopped working at his wound. The fear was slowly creeping in again.

He looked at you blankly for a little while and then chuckled. It caught you off guard and you couldn't but relax a bit.

“You ask an awfully lot of questions to someone who is getting stitches on his stomach, don't you think?” he said in a strained but adoring voice.

You felt a bit humiliated and looked down to continue your work.

After a while, he let out a sigh and said, “I'm a Shaman. I came to save this town. From a demon who possesses people and slowly becomes them.”

Whatever he said didn't quite make sense to you but there was something so religious about the way he spoke, something so otherworldly about him that you believed him without a shadow of a doubt. You realized he didn't answer all your questions either and honestly you didn't need him to. You believed every word from of his mouth like it's the word of the lord. And at that point, if he said you were the demon, you would have believed him. Maybe that's what compelled you to ask the next question, “Am I the demon?”

- “No. Never. The demon wouldn't touch someone like you.”

Again it didn't make sense to you what he meant, but you felt it and you believed him. He was growing visibly weary so you decided not to ask him anything further. And when you were done stitching, he was fast asleep. You bandaged up the wound, turned off the lights and left him be.

You made your way to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of rosé. Your brain was banging against your skull, whatever happened from the evening truly felt like a fever dream. The man that you've been thinking about for the entire week and the man who this town thinks is a demon was fast asleep in your bedroom, it wasn't setting quite right in your brain. You drained the bottle, hoping you'd wake up from this. But instead you started feeling terribly exhausted. You wanted to just lie down on the floor and pass out right there but you deserved more than the hardwood floor after what happened that evening. Now if it was any other day, you would have slept on the couch but something about him was so magnetic that you couldn't keep yourself away from him. You stumbled your way to your bedroom and collapsed on the bean bag opposite to the bed. He was sleeping peacefully like a child. And looking at him, you too fell asleep with an empty bottle in your hand.

When you woke up, everything was blurry. Your headache hit your head before your vision did. As everything came into focus you saw him kneeling in front you, looking at you with his burning green eyes. The sun was coming in through the window above your head and it's glorious yellow glow bathed him. He looked like an ancient greek statue. However little humane he felt yesterday vanished just like that. With his soft lush curls draping over the face, he looked ethereal, kind but regal. You kept staring at him and couldn't quite speak. Whether it was the effect of his beauty or the hangover, you didn't know.

“You're awake” he said in a mellow soothing voice. He sounded much more lively than yesterday. He was still wearing only his pants. His body looked like it was carved out of a stone under the fuzzy sunlight.

You tried to say ‘hmm’ but made somewhat of a weird raspy sound. He didn't seem bothered by it.

“How's your wound?” you asked as you were trying to sit up properly.

“Better. Thanks to you.” he gave you a cordial smile. Something about that smile made you feel so safe even though a literal stranger was in your house at 6 in the morning.

-“um- do you want some coffee?”

-“No, you've already done enough, I think I should leave now”, he said as he looked at you with those mesmerizing green eyes. “Thank you (Y/N), I really appreciate your kindness”.

You didn't know what it was. Whether it was the way your name fell from his lips or the idea of him leaving and you not being able to see him again that sent a mix of anxiety and urgency down your body. You leaned in from the bean bag and crashed your lips onto his. Holding onto his shoulder for dear life, you pushed his body backwards with all your weight. You kept kissing him as if trying to devour him as quickly as possible. Running out of breath, when you pulled out, he had his back against the bed and you were half crawling half kneeling over his now stretched out legs. The position was almost as awkward as the situation. He looked at you with a startled expression, mouth slightly agape. You were just as appalled by your sudden inappropriate action.

“I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I should have asked. That was so inappropriate. I'm really so-” you blabbered on, flustered and ashamed of your actions.

“It's okay. I like you (Y/N)”, he cut you off and said with a soft loving voice, almost like you'd coo to a baby.

“B-but you don't even know me!”, the confusion in your voice was more than apparent. You looked at him wide eyed, hoping he would explain. Cause if he didn't, you wouldn't have the mental strength to ask him again after hearing what he just said.

“I don't need to know people like you all do” he spoke, the sunlight falling on him still making him look heavenly. “There's...There's a deeper knowing within me about people. From the place above and beyond. I knew you before, I know you now and I'd know you after this place too. I know you more than even you do perhaps. And I like you in all my knowing.”

His words felt like honey in your ears, his voice and accent made you feel light-headed. Or was it the hangover again? You couldn't tell. You didn't know. None of anything he said registered in your brain. Baffled, you just gawked at him, frozen in your uncomfortable posture.

Sensing your astonishment, he cupped your face with his hands and brushed your cheeks with his thumbs, with a smile that you were sure could cure you from all your illness. Under his touch you melted. It felt like electricity was running up and down your body. At this moment, you truly believed, he wasn't from this world.

Every bone in your body wanted to possess him.

And so you did. Kissing him with all the force you could muster. You crawled your way over his body, then straddling him. He kissed you back although more softly compared to your burning urgency. Your hands wandered into his soft hair, tugging and pulling. You were getting sloppy but you didn't take a moment off, you felt like if you did he might just slip off from under you like sand. Or you might wake up from this very vivid dream. You couldn't take any chances, you had to make the most of whatever it was, real or imagined. You were grinding against him slowly but aggressively. Your clothed chest rubbed against his bare skin. As his tongue mingled with yours, he tasted heavenly, like nothing you've tasted before. Your hands wandered all over his neck, shoulders and arms. You were trying to touch and feel everything that he was, he still didn't feel real to you. In your fervid bliss, you mistakenly pressed against his bandaged wound making him hiss out in pain against your mouth. Your ardent movements came to a halt as he slowly pulled away, saliva dripping from the side of his mouth, his lips glistened in the yellow sunlight.

“Go a bit easy on me, yeah?” he pleaded, his doe eyes piercing your soul. At that moment if he stabbed you in your heart, you'd die happy. But you wanted to please him, make up for whatever hurt you caused him. So you kissed him again, this time feebly. His mouth, the side of his mouth, jaw bone, neck, collarbone, you kept showering him with careful kisses, licks and bites all over his upper body. He was brushing his hands lovingly on your back. It felt like this was the moment you've been waiting for your whole life, you were quite sure you wouldn't exist afterwards. When you were done bathing every inch of his upper body with your lips you looked up to see his face. His affectionate gaze was sending warm ripples down your stomach. You felt his hardness against you and you knew what you wanted to do. You started kissing your way down towards his crotch, and after a bit of fumbling, you slid his pants off of him. There he was in all his glory. Without wasting a second, you took his cock in your mouth completely, as far as you could. His breath hitched at your sudden action. You glided your mouth up and down while your tongue went in circular motion around his length. If he was the god there then you were his one true devotee and you wanted to worship him, please him like your life depended on it. You heard him grunt softly and that made you soak through your panties. You could feel his body tense up, his breathing starting to get more and more rushed. You would finish him off like that if it weren't for his hands reaching down to cup your face and pull you up back on top of him. None of you were talking but it felt like you were communicating with him more than you've done with anybody before. He took your top off in a languid motion, followed by your bra. Your bare skin flush against his, like your body was on fire.

He eyed you up and down slowly, and uttered “you're beautiful”. You wished you could reply and say something but you were too out of your mind to do so. You only kissed him in return. After another fervent make out session, you pulled away, breathless. You were starting to get needy again as you felt your stomach slowly tightening up. He then pushed his back upwards in a clumsy way and sat up on the edge of the bed. You looked up to him and he looked celestial. At this point you weren't thinking anymore, everything you were doing was purely instinctual. He reached his right hand out to you and you took it. With one fluent motion he pulled you up and pinned you on the bed. He was now on top of you, staring down. You could see a glimpse of hunger in his eyes but his kind smile felt otherwise. It was him now who bathed your body with kisses. He lovingly took one of your nipples in his mouth and stroked the other one with his hand. With his warm tongue working on your nipple and his soft curls tickling your breast, you were quite sure you were in heaven. But you were getting impatient and you wanted to feel him inside of you. Unknowingly to you, your hips went up to grind against him as you whined sensually. He looked up at you and chuckled softly. You felt your cheeks warm up from embarrassment. But he complied with your will and helped you out of your pants and underwear. Now there was nothing between the two of you. He came up to face you as he positioned himself at your entrance. Your body felt like it would turn to dust at any moment. Your vision was hazy but you could swear his angelic beauty lit up the whole room. You felt like you were drowning in his eyes. But your reverie broke as he entered your body, filling you in. You wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms around him. Your back arched up like a cat as he quickly found a rhythm and started hitting the right spot. Waves of pure bliss started to take over your whole body as your core started building up. You were a moaning mess under him, and his grunts felt like music to your ears. He was navigating the boat and you were just riding. He picked up the pace and became more and more aggressive. You could feel him smothering your cheeks, neck and breast with kisses. But honestly you couldn't tell anymore, you could only feel the waves rising and the tension building. Building and building and with a final hit, it all came undone. You came crashing down a mountain top but it felt euphoric. Your eyes rolled back somewhere into my skull. You could feel his tongue in your mouth, as his thrusts became more and more sloppy until it finally halted. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, and you could feel his warm fluid fill your insides.

When you opened your eyes, you were a panting and sweating mess. He pulled out of you slowly and rolled over to your side. He was equally as messy as you were. You turned on your side to face him. He was smiling at you coyly and in that moment it felt like you've known him for eternity. He was practically gleaming in the afterglow. As you were slowly coming down from the high a very embarrassing realization hit you. You didn't know his name. You just fucked someone you didn't even know the name of. You were becoming red with shame and he noticed.

“What's wrong?”, his voice filled with genuine concern. You were seriously considering if you should ask him that at this point. But you did,

-“I- um... what's your name?”

-“Vladek” he said softly and in that moment he looked so beautiful that you were afraid you'd go blind. Yet in his beauty there was this delicacy, this vulnerability. For some reason you felt like he didn't have much time left on his hands. As if he had to go back from where he came. He looked too vulnerable for this world and you had a very bad feeling.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

February Contest Submission #5: Grave Digger

Words: ca. 3,500 Setting: mAU Lemon: lime Content: cursing Song: Grave Digger by Matt Maeson

“Are you sure you know where you’re going, Anna?” Kristoff asked as he ducked beneath a rock that jutted from the low ceiling of the narrow tunnel. Anna grunted in response as she trudged forward; her teal eyes locked on the age-wrinkled scrap of paper in her gloved hands. Kristoff rolled his own eyes at the response from his friend. He may be used to those types of responses but it didn’t make it any less annoying.

Usually, Anna’s mind was constantly running in many different directions but when it came to hunting, she was always laser-focused. Kristoff knew it was because of her father and his own abnormal obsession with treasure hunting. At least the dead man hadn’t gone empty-handed from his excursions. His many discoveries were now on display at different museums. Lost in his thoughts cost Kristoff as his head connected with another rock and he cursed beneath his breath.

“How much further?” he asked gruffly. Anna paused a few paces ahead of the tall man and studied the scrap of parchment in her grasp. In the low light that emanated from their lantern, Kristoff could see that they were in a small cavern. In the silence, he heard dripping water off to his left and the eerie scratching that he had come to accompany with small rodents. He watched Anna slowly spin in a circle before heading off to the farthest wall of the cavern.

“Bring the lantern over, Kristoff,” Anna said, with a hint of excitement in her voice. Kristoff raised his brows curiously and moved to Anna’s side. She shrugged off her backpack and snapped open one of the side pockets that contained a set of small cleaning tools. Kristoff held the light near the wall and saw markings that meant absolutely nothing to him, but everything to Anna. Anna set to work; carefully brushing centuries of dirt from the wall.

“You think this is it?” he asked. Anna chewed her lip as she worked; sweat trickled down her forehead, creating streaks in the dirt that covered her face.

“I’m holding high hopes for this one not being a faux. When Oaken said the chamber holding the artifacts was buried in the mountain just outside of Arendelle, it would have saved us a ton of time if he had pointed out that it was the northern mountain and not the fucking southern,” Anna mumbled with a bit of irritation. Kristoff chuckled as he leaned against the wall and watched her work.

“Could it be that your Norwegian is a bit rusty?” Anna paused long enough to glare at her friend. He threw up a hand in surrender.

“Even if there is a slim chance I didn’t properly translate, it’s not like the map was that much of a help. The mountains all look the same on that damned map! It didn't even have cardinal directions. Then again, maybe it was on the other half of the map. Who knows?” Anna ranted. 

"I'm just a bit skeptical since you couldn't translate the tomes we found on our last trip," Kristoff said. Another glare in his direction.

"It's not like there's a ton of literature from Arendelle civilization lying around for me to study, Kristoff. Their written language is a bitch to learn. Why do you think there are few scholars who know anything from it?" Kristoff averted his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I shouldn't question your instincts. They're right most of the time, even if it does involve us getting into death-defying situations." 

A few minutes passed until Anna sat back on her heels and slipped her tools back into her bag. She leaned forward and blew on the stone, releasing a cloud of dust into the air.

Kristoff coughed from the dust and waved his hands in an attempt to dissipate it. Anna gestured for him to bring the lantern closer so she could attempt to make sense of the images. Kristoff noticed there was a small piece of metal in the stone and the tiniest seam that could have been a door of some sort. Although most of the markings were small, there were larger ones carved above the seam.

“Are you getting anything?” he asked. Anna sighed and straightened.

“Honestly, it’s a mess. Aged, distorted and most of them I've never encountered before.

“Well, what about this one?” he pointed to the message above the seam. Anna tilted her head as she studied it. Her face lit up and she stepped behind Kristoff to remove the crowbar from his pack.

“Anna, what does it say?” he asked, a bit desperate as she slid the claw of the crowbar into the seam and began to pull. There was a sudden breeze in the cavern that hadn’t been there before, which Kristoff knew was impossible because they were too far in the mountain. It made him shiver.

“Stol på ingen djevel,” she muttered. “Help me, Kristoff.” He shifted nervously.

“What does it mean?” he pressed. There was a slight groaning sound as the stone shifted causing Anna’s excitement to grow.

“It says, ‘beware the devil’. Now, get over here and help me!” Kristoff swallowed heavily and stepped next to her. He took the crowbar from her grasp and began prying while Anna slipped her fingers into the widened seam.

“That’s not a good message, Anna,” he said. Anna rolled her eyes, grunting as the stone moved another inch.

“They put all kinds of eerie warnings on chambers like this to keep people away from treasures. We’ve seen them before; stop acting like a frightened child.” The stone creaked and groaned, gradually moving with their efforts.

“I’m not acting like a child! That one’s different from the others! I’m just not sure-” Suddenly the stone flew open and blasted the two friends with stagnant air that smelt of earth, decay, and… winter? Anna jumped up and down excitedly and took the lantern from where Kristoff had placed it. She slipped into the opening before he could say a word.

As soon as Anna stepped into the chamber, the groaning returned and she cried out as the stone slammed back into its proper place behind her. She set the lantern down and swept her hands over the wall, searching for the seam. She grew anxious when she realized it was gone. She pounded her fist against it, aiming to get Kristoff’s attention.

“Kristoff, can you hear me? I-I’m okay! I can’t seem to find the opening though!” Anna yelled. She was met with silence. Her heart pounded in her chest as she pressed an ear to the stone as if she could somehow hear through it.

He cannot hear you. 

Anna squealed and whipped around to find the source of the voice, but was met with darkness. That was a panic-induced auditory hallucination, right? It had to be. With shaking hands, she reached for the lantern and took a few cautious steps forward. The first thing she noticed was the perfect circle carved on the floor surrounded by candles. Runes decorated the edge of the circle, but Anna couldn’t translate their meanings. She wandered around the rest of the small chamber only to find a small table containing a silver chest surrounded by small pots that held various unfamiliar herbs, and a small scroll.

Momentarily forgetting that she was sealed in an ancient chamber with no apparent exit, Anna grew excited at the sight of the chest and rushed forward. She shrugged off her pack and inspected the chest. Disappointment filled her when she realized it was locked tight. With a sigh, Anna turned her attention to the scroll. Carefully, she picked it up, gently untied the frayed ribbon that held the papyrus together and began to unfurl it. A strong gust of chilled air filled the chamber. It tussled the strands of Anna’s hair that had come loose from her messy bun and sent shivers through her body. Goosebumps appeared on her skin when a loud crack echoed behind her. Forgotten, the scroll fell from her grasp and floated to the ground. There was a soft rustle that sounded like bare feet sliding along the stone floor.

“Now, what do we have here?” A soft, yet powerful feminine voice purred. Anna’s heart went into overdrive as she swallowed with difficulty due to her suddenly dry mouth and managed the courage to slowly turn around.

The candles around the carved circle were now lit, casting an ominous glow around the small chamber and creating awful shadows that danced along the walls. A pair of delicate feet were positioned in the center of the circle. Anna’s eyes moved of their own accord as they drifted upward, over the deathly pale, toned calves and passed the bare thighs that flitted in and out of view from the fabric of the white dress that ended just above the knees. A dress that simultaneously hugged the cocked hips of the figure yet hung loosely from the upper torso. Anna felt her face heat up when she saw the neckline of the dress plunged, barely concealing the swell of the breasts beneath. Finally, her gaze landed on the figure’s face and her heart plummeted.

Tribalistic scar-like marks covered the being’s face. They glowed with an ethereal blue that matched the half-lidded eyes. Two small horns protruded from its forehead, just below a hairline of platinum hair that fell against the being’s shoulders in long strands. A fanged-grin came across its face as it seemed to pierce Anna’s very soul with its intense gaze.

“Finally finished gawking, darling?” The figure said. Anna backed away from the circle until she felt the coolness of the stone wall behind her. With shaking hands, she reached down and removed her dagger from the sheathe on her thigh. She pointed it at the figure in the circle.

“Who are you?” she asked, silently congratulating herself for managing to keep a steady voice. Her timid question was met with laughter that sent chills down Anna’s spine.

“You break into my chamber, disturb my rest, and have the audacity to demand an introduction?” The being clicked her tongue as she brushed her foot against the edge of the circle, hissing when it glowed an angry red and a tendril of flame licked at her skin. Anna tilted her head and arched her brow.

“Rest? Kinda’ seems to me like you’re trapped in that circle.” A glare was thrown at Anna and she caught movement behind the being. A long silver, pointed tail flicked behind her, seemingly in annoyance. The glare quickly melted into… intrigue?

“An attitude accompanies the decadent intruder? Interesting.” Anna shifted, trying to shake off the odd feeling that the being’s voice had invoked.

“I’ll repeat the question: who are you? What are you? How long have you been here? Why are you sealed here?” Anna couldn’t stop the string of questions. The being sighed and lifted one of her hands, inspecting her nails.

“Forward, aren’t we? You may refer to me as Elsa. The length of my imprisonment is unknown to me. Decades? Centuries? Close to forever, it seems. The inhabitants of the kingdom near this mountain deemed me responsible for the attack against their kingdom. As for what I am…” The being, “Elsa’, cocked her head to the side and gazed at Anna, studying her.

“I am a demon that one usually associates with winter.” she finally said. Anna frowned.

“What do you mean?”

Elsa chuckled and crossed her arms beneath her chest, causing the loose fabric to part, granting Anna a near unobstructed view of the full breasts beneath. Anna’s eyes darted down for a split second - she couldn’t help herself; she was only human. Even though it was literally a second (well, maybe a few seconds) it was noticed by Elsa, who gave Anna a knowing smirk. 

“You know, winter. Ice, frost, snow, cold winds.” As if to demonstrate, another gust of chilled air flooded the room, and Elsa was shrouded by lightly falling snow.

“What did you do to Arendelle?" Anna asked. Elsa’s smirk turned into a scowl and a flash of anger filled her eyes.

“I'm one of two demons that control winter's bite. My counterpart was bored and decided to cast the kingdom into an endless winter," she said.

Anna frowned as she began remembering a few odd details that had occurred before her arrival in the lost kingdom. She had heard tales of the reason why the Arendelle civilization had collapsed. The tales had ranged from fantastical creatures causing utter destruction to biblically proportioned, weather-related disasters. The most circulated story did involve a ferocious winter that nearly froze the entire kingdom. She also recalled the interaction she had had with an old man that had lurked just outside of Oaken’s Trading Post.

________________________

“Are ya headin’ to the mountains, young lady?” Anna and Kristoff had just left the store and were packing their equipment into their vehicle when the frail man had approached them. She hefted the duffle bag in her hands into the vehicle before turning toward the stranger.

“Yes, we are! Just going to do some exploration, see if we can find any artifacts,” she said. The man nodded as a bony hand stroked the scraggly hairs of his chest-length beard.

“Just be careful up there. Those mountains are old; they hold many secrets, some that were never meant to see the light of day,” he said quietly. Anna was a bit taken back but managed to force a smile.

“We’ll make sure to be careful. Thanks for the warning.” The old man nodded and turned around, heading back to the snow-covered porch.

“Lotta’ lost souls in those mountains,” he muttered, so low that Anna nearly missed it. The tone of his voice was unsettling, and stuck with Anna for the entire drive up into the mountain peaks, but was instantly forgotten when they had arrived at their destination.

___________________

"Interesting that they imprisoned you and not your counterpart," Anna said after a few moments. Elsa scoffed and ran a hand through her hair.

"It's merely due to the fact that they were messy with their summoning. One wrong rune and I was suddenly trapped for something I didn't even do."

"Well, that sucks, if it's true," Anna said. While keeping the dagger aimed at Elsa, she slowly made her way around the circle and back to the front wall where she had entered the chamber. She pressed her fingers against the stone once more, searching for the seam.

“Not entirely sure why you still have that toothpick out. It wouldn’t do you any good against me. Also, I find it a tad rude that I’ve introduced myself, yet I haven’t had the favor returned,” Elsa said.

“Anna. My name is Anna,” Anna said, kneeling to check the lower wall. Elsa hummed.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Anna.” There was something about the way Elsa said her name (emphasis on the ‘ah’) that created butterflies in her stomach.

"You won't find the door. It's gone." Anna rolled her eyes even though she knew Elsa was right. The stone was smooth except for small crevices.

"Why is it gone?” Anna whined, pounding her fist against the stone.

“Because I wanted it gone. It only served to let you in.” Anna stiffly turned around.

“You…wanted me to come in?” she asked, confused. Elsa nodded, tapping a finger against her chin.

“But you said you were ‘resting.’ How did you even know I was here?”

“I sensed you the moment you delved beneath the mountain’s surface,” Elsa began, walking to the very edge of the circle, close enough for the ring to glow red but not lash out.

"S-sensed me?" Anna repeated.

“Yes. Your determination to find what has been lost for centuries. The stubbornness of your mindset. The way you seek to find adventure, unravel mysteries,” Elsa continued, her tail flicking in and out of view behind her.

“But most importantly,” Anna hadn’t even realized she had been moving closer. She suddenly found herself mere inches from the circle, seemingly drawn forward just by Elsa’s aura. 

“Your passion,” Elsa purred, leaning forward just a bit more. “Passion for the unknown, the thrill.” Elsa inhaled deeply, her eyes falling shut. “Mmm yes, even now, it pulses hotly within you.” Anna leaned forward too, closer, until-

She nearly tripped herself as she jerked away and quickly stepped back. Her heart threatened to burst through her ribcage and she couldn’t quite catch her breath. Sweat was forming on her brow and she felt warm, no, hot, even though the temperature had dropped entirely, and she could see her breath spilling from her parted lips. She steadied her breathing, trying to collect herself.

“Anyway, ignoring that,” she muttered, more to herself than anything. “Are you telling me that I’m now trapped here with you? That there’s no way out?” Panic was rising again; Anna hated the conflicting emotions within her.

“I don’t recall saying that,” Elsa responded, her eyes opening again. Hope slid through the cracks of the wall of panic that had set down in Anna’s chest.

“So there’s a way out?”

“There is. For both of us.” Anna’s hope faltered. Her lips were dry and she licked them absent-mindedly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” An annoyed sigh met her question.

“I want out, Anna. You are able to help me with that, as I am with you. By working together.” Anna chewed her lip. This was a bad idea, listening to anything a demon says.

“It’s really the only option you have,” Elsa said, crossing her arms, observing Anna’s internal conflict.

“Is it?”

“Well, it’s either that or you suffocate in here. Succumb to starvation, thirst, anything else that humans need to thrive,” Elsa said casually. "I could also be of use to you. I could tell by the confused and frustrated expression as you gazed upon that scroll that you aren't familiar with the ancient dialect that Arendelle used. I, however, am."

Anna was well-read. Most of her little free time was spent with her nose in a book, journal, scripture, whatever she could get her hands on, really. She knew that deals with demons could go horrifically wrong if not done properly. On the other hand, she could really use Elsa's knowledge of Arendelle and its people for her studies. She finally sheathed her dagger and began to pace, weighing her options.

“Ah, yes. Think it through carefully. I mean, I’ve got plenty of time for you to decide,” Elsa commented. Another gust of cold air and Anna glanced over. She was slightly amused to see that Elsa had created a chair that oddly resembled a chaise. Her arm draped over the edge, one leg swung slowly beneath her while the other was bent at the knee on the chair, revealing even more of those tantalizing thighs beneath the dress. Anna tore her gaze away and continued to think. Finally, she stopped and stood before Elsa once more.

In the more rational side of Anna's mind, she knew she was being hasty with her decision. But that hadn't ever stopped her before. She was impulsive; always starting new projects and changing directions at a moment’s notice.

"There will be conditions," Anna told the demon. She approached the edge of the circle and withdrew her dagger.

"There are always conditions," Elsa said, watching as Anna removed her gloves and checked the sharpness of her blade. "What do you expect to do with that?" Anna looked at her quizzically.

"Demon deals are sealed by an exchange of blood," she said. Elsa snorted and rose from her seat, strolling to where Anna stood.

"No need for your condescending tone, love. I'm a bit impressed by your knowledge, though. Most demon deals are sealed by blood, yes," Elsa stated, her hand drifting toward the invisible barrier that kept her in the circle. Red shimmered around it and she brushed her fingers against it.

"But, I am not like most demons. No, my deals are sealed by a different act." Anna froze as Elsa’s hand quickly slid through the barrier, taking Anna's free hand within her grasp and pulling her into the circle. There was a sizzle and smoke rose from Elsa's skin as she did this. Anna squeaked as she found herself suddenly pressed flush against Elsa. Even through the fabric of Anna's clothes she could feel the cold that was Elsa's body.

"Mine are sealed with lust," Elsa murmured. She continued to grip Anna's hand while her free one rose to gently cup Anna's cheek. A protest was forming on Anna's lips as her breath misted out from between them. Elsa shook her head and pressed a finger to Anna's lips, silencing her before she could even speak.

"Anything that you say will be a denial of what you actually want. No use wasting words, Anna." There was a tightening in Anna's stomach as the hand slid down her face, tracing patterns on her neck before winding itself in the forest of Anna's hair, ridding it of the band that held it together. The confusing arousal she had felt when she first saw Elsa grew as Elsa leaned even closer, bringing her red lips to Anna's ear. Anna shuddered as Elsa's surprisingly warm breath ghosted over her sensitive skin.

"I can smell your desire, your want, your need for me," Elsa purred, yanking Anna's head back. There was a clattering sound as the forgotten dagger in Anna's hand slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor. Anna was now trembling, but not from fear. Every word Elsa said was true, and growing by the second.

"There is one more thing you should know," Elsa said, her voice low. Anna's breath hitched when she felt sharp teeth scrape against her neck. Without warning, they pierced her skin, and she cried out as a surge of energy rippled through her body. There was a burning sensation on her chest and Elsa released Anna's hand, snatching the fabric of Anna's shirt and yanking it. A ripping sound and Anna's shirt fell to the ground in shreds. Elsa's fingers drifted along the newly formed snowflake jutting from the once smooth skin of Anna's chest.

As Anna's mind grew cloudy with desire and a cool hand found its way into her pants, finding the wet heat waiting, she barely managed to hear the growled warning before she fell victim to the overwhelming sensations.

"Never make a deal with a demon."

[crash-hawk]

Crash, crash, burn, let it all burn, this hurricane’s chasing us all underground...

Since I recently re-released Three to read in its entirety on Tumblr, I thought I would do the same for the first chapter of the follow-up fic Hurricane: a series of short stories set in the Passerine-inspired Kaleidoscope AU, focusing on the intersections and parallels between the series’ Hermit cast and their DSMP neighbors.  Chapter 1 is a direct follow-up to Three, taking place literally hours later, so it’s recommended that you read that one first!

Hurricane is a work in progress, with three chapters completed so far.  The rest can be read on Archive of Our Own HERE.

(For a look at what’s going down in this AU’s version of Third Life, check out @lunarblazes‘ devastating Give Me Back My Heart, You Wingless Thing and @exactlymypoint‘s stellar To Stars and Void He Will Return.)

The morning after’s always a bitch.

crash, crash, burn

No matter how many times that you told me you wanted to leave

No matter how many breaths that you took, you still couldn’t breathe

No matter how many nights that you’d lie wide awake to the sound of the poison rain

Where did you go?  Where did you go?  Where did you go...?

- Thirty Seconds to Mars, “Hurricane”

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

A strange hush falls over the island in the hours just before dawn.   The moon sinks into the water, unnaturally bright against stars that seem pale and faded and  unreal, and seems to take all sound and life with it; the ocean is a vast expanse of smooth glass that barely seems to lap at the shore.  

The Queen of the Hunt notices, and it disturbs her.

She does not live with the others in the main village.  She makes her home in a vast cavern on the far side of the island, beneath a quaint red-roofed house that’s more decoy than domicile.  The house is for the young ones and the new ones, who don’t need to know what she truly is (although every once and again one will come seeking her specifically, usually one who’s seen her in the Starborn’s tournaments, and if they show promise and she has nothing better to do she will take them on.)

She does not live with the others, but she’s aware of the visitors who’d come to their shore the day before.  She knows them well, one of them most of all.  Her own dark mirror; sometimes her twin and sometimes a stranger, sometimes an ally and more often an enemy.  His presence here, in this place meant specifically to keep him out, infuriates her, because she knows it for what it is: both an implicit threat and a deliberate insult on the part of the one who’d brought him along.  The thought of marching into the village and demanding that the interlopers state their intent was tempting, the thought of demanding that they leave even more so.  But she and her shadow have always been flint and steel, and with each hour that passes the island feels more and more like dry kindling.  The Huntress tells herself that no matter what happens, she will not be the one to strike the spark.

She wanders along the northern shoreline, not knowing why, not knowing where she’s going or what she’s looking for.  It feels like she’s waiting for something, some coin to drop, some axe to fall.  

And then it does.

The land around her has grown sere and scrubby, gnarled oaks making way for the flat-crowned acacia trees local to the northwestern point of the island.  A huge mountain, ridged and buttressed like a castle, bulks to the sky, black against the dim, faded stars.  She can see lights glowing softly from the windows of the homes her friends have built there.

A scream suddenly bursts from one of the windows.

It shatters the night into a thousand fragments, echoing from stone and tree and water, freezing the Huntress down to the bone because she  recognizes  it, would know the voice anywhere.  That’s Etho screaming, screaming and screaming in terror and agony and something else, something that sounds dangerously close to madness--the Huntress has heard enough screams in her life to know.  

She’s running before she’s even aware of it, her bow materializing in her hand from thin air, as dawn crawls over the eastern horizon behind her in a silent white line.

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

Something’s wrong.

It pulses through Pearl’s mind in an insistent feedback loop, crowding out thought as they make their way back down the shore toward the village.  George rambles on at her side, the most he’s spoken since she can remember, the most he’s spoken in  millennia,  she thinks, ever since the old forests were a new thing too huge with potential for her to govern alone.  There are other siblings, of course, other gods of life and change and growth, but he is one of the youngest, and the most sensitive.  So she smiles and tries her best to listen as he talks and talks and talks, about his woods and his dreams and his nightmares and waking up choking on ash, about his animal friends and the valley he made bloom in honor of one that he lost, about the unlikely friendships she still doesn’t understand, treasure hunts and near misses and the universe saying I’m going to be the best thing that ever happened to you.

“Granted, they’re both idiots, Sapnap especially,” he says, smiling.  “But…”

“But they’re your idiots,” Pearl finishes with an answering smile.  She can’t help it, she’s all too familiar with the phenomenon.  And yet the maddening refrain continues:  something’s wrong.  Something’s wrong.  Something’s wrong.

To the east, dawn paints the sky in fragile seashell colors, washing out stars already strangely faint.  They’re close, now; Pearl can see the massive, irregular shadow of Scar’s ore pile and the dim violet glow from Grian’s observatory. There are few lights lit, and even though she knows that logically everyone’s probably still asleep, it still sits wrongly. Even at this distance, the village feels shuttered, empty, dead.

“It’s so quiet,” George murmurs.  Pearl turns to him, seeing anxiety in his eyes, in the way his arms wrap around himself.   He feels it too.

“Some of them should be up by now,” Pearl says absently.  “Bdubs at least, he’s staying at Impulse’s house this week and he’s always up and out with the sun, I don’t--”

“I think they’re all still there,” George interrupts, pointing down the beach, to where the the last embers of the campfire still glow dully in the early morning gloom.  “It looks like they all fell asleep there.”

Pearl looks, and fear washes over her like ice water.  

They’re arranged around the campfire in a ring, the way they gather almost every night if the weather permits.  Twenty-some people, it looks like, almost the entire village.  Some are still mostly upright, slumped against each other or against the logs of driftwood.  Others lie sprawled awkwardly in the sand or curled up tight against the wind.   Only one remains alert, prodding idly at the embers as they roast something on a stick.

Footsteps crunch in the sand behind them, making her jump, but she doesn’t turn around.  They don’t look like they’re sleeping.  Their poses are too awkward, too uncomfortable, as if they’d all been struck by the same bolt of lightning and simply lay as they fell.  They look--

“There you are,” complains the approaching voice, all smoke and grit.  “I’ve been looking for you all godsdamned night.”

“Sapnap--”

Pearl breaks into a run.

George shouts something after her, but she doesn’t hear it.  She runs for the campfire, her cloak and hood flying out behind her, heart pounding in her head and chest and throat.  

The one still awake looks up as she skids to a halt in the sand, smiling.  “Morning,” he greets. “Breakfast?  There’s fish enough for four.”

Pearl ignores him.  Up close, she can see that the younger ones do seem to be asleep, piled up on each other in awkward configurations and snoring quietly, but the others...the others…

“What have you done,” she gasps, before she’s even aware of what she means to say.

“What do you mean, what have I done,” Dream asks, blinking.  His voice and expression are the picture of bafflement, but his eyes are amused, glittering jade in the light of the rising sun.  “I was making breakfast.  They’re asleep.”

Impulse still sits next to Dream, slumped over the half-finished clock in his lap, head bowed. Beside him, Bdubs is face down in the sand.  She can’t tell if they’re breathing or not.  Across the campfire Scar lies curled on his side, arms crossed loosely in front of his face as if to ward off a blow.  And beside him--

“Grian!”

For a terrible, terrible moment, Pearl is certain that he’s dead.  He lies sprawled on his back, limbs bent awkwardly, boneless and loose as if he’d fallen out of the sky.  His wings are invisible, still cloaked, and that’s  wrong, Grian can’t hide his wings unless he’s conscious enough to think about it--

She drops to her knees beside him, laying one hand on his chest, the other cupping his cheek.  She feels him draw in a breath and sobs, vision blurring with relief.  So slow, though, a full minute going by before he draws another, and he’s so cold. Grian isn’t supposed to be cold.  Grian is quicksilver and solar flares and lightning in a bottle, rambling speech and manic laughter and too-warm hugs.  His fire is gone, his wings are gone.  Grian is gone.  What lies on the beach beneath her hands is nothing more than a placeholder.  A shell.  And she knows as certain as moonrise that if she were to go to the others, to lay her hands on their hearts, she would feel the same.

“What have you done?!” she repeats, pale eyes returning to Dream’s.  

Dream simply looks back at her, impassive, the unnerving smile still on his face. “Nothing they didn’t ask for.”

“They would never ask for this,” she hisses, standing slowly.  She can feel rage beginning to gather in her core, flowing down into her limbs like white fire.  

“Dream?” she hears George ask from behind her, quick footsteps shuffling through the sand.  “What happened?”

For a heartbeat, she sees the Green God’s expression flicker, a split second of something that might have been surprise or nerves or fear.   She doesn’t know, and doesn’t care.  Her rage is an incandescent, living thing, as though she’d swallowed a piece of the sun.

“I told her,” he says.  “They’re  asleep. Dreaming. They asked for a story, and I told one.  I might’ve...gotten a bit carried away, but they haven’t been harmed, George.  At all.  They’ll wake soon enough--”

“They are not asleep!” Pearl cries, and suddenly there’s a spear in her hand, the curved head glittering silver in the misty sunlight.  “Do you take me for an idiot? You’ve left their bodies here scattered like so many empty seashells, thinking I couldn’t tell the difference.  They’re not here!  What have you done to them, you lying bastard?”

In the space between heartbeats a white-cloaked shadow suddenly appears at her side, obsidian blade leveled inches from her neck.  “Put it down,” the War God snarls.  “Now.”

“No,” she says, not even bothering to look at him.  

“You’d break guest right?” Dream asks, still smiling congenially, stepping forward so Pearl’s spearhead rests just below his collarbone. “Your little commune holds that sacred, doesn’t it?  You’d run me through in the sight of the sun, in front of your ‘brother’?  Well, go on, then.  I’m right here.  I won’t even dodge.  Your place, your rule.”

“Pearl, Sapnap, stop,” she hears George cry, dismayed.  “Dream, what the hell’s gotten into you??”

Pearl’s hands tighten around the polished ashwood haft of the spear.  The rage in her is burning agony.  And yet she can’t move.

The Green God smiles, his eyes the color of acid and chlorine and radiation.  “I know you,” he whispers. “I’ve known you since you were formed.  You’re not cut out for this role. You don’t have it in you.”

There’s a sudden ‘twang’ and a puff of sand as an arrow strikes deeply into the beach a bare millimeter from Dream’s ankle. Another grazes Sapnap’s cheekbone a second later, drawing a thin line of blood.

“You’re no guests of mine,” a woman’s voice calls from a point above and behind them. “And I do.”

The War God’s sword jerks away from her neck, and Pearl’s paralysis breaks. She whirls, her spear falling from shaking, nerveless fingers, to see False, Lady of War, Queen of the Hunt, standing atop a wave-beaten spar of rock, longbow nocked and drawn.  Nor is she alone: beside her stand Iskall of the Mountains, his stone sword carved with runes and shimmering with enchantment, and Wels, Guardian of the Gates of Hell, in full dark armor and wielding a battleaxe the color of smoke.

“You,” Sapnap spits, black eyes narrowed and full of venom.

“Me,” False agrees.  

“What the hell,” Iskall thunders, fire glinting in his eye, “did you do to Etho.”

Dream rolls his eyes.  “Stars, Void, and In-Between, how many of you are there?”

“More than you’d believe,” Wels answers.  “This is our place.  Our home.  And I think it’s high time you returned to yours.”

“You’ve outstayed your welcome,” the Huntress states flatly, her normally blue eyes as black as Sapnap’s as they drill into Dream.  “I suggest that you and both of your friends get in your boat and leave.  Right now.”

“Mm,” Dream looks up at the sky for a moment, as if thinking.  “And if I don’t care to leave just yet?  I never got to read the ending to that story I was telling last night, and your student body was so excited to hear it.”  He glances over at the sleeping apprentices, and Pearl feels a stomach-clenching rush of fear and revulsion at the implicit threat.   “Besides.  You know you can’t kill me.  You know it better than probably anyone else here.”

False laughs.

Dream’s forehead furrows, and Pearl is gratified to see that awful smile slip just a notch.  “Care to share the punchline?”

“Oh, that’s true enough,” False admits.  “You’re right, it won’t be my arrow that brings you down, though I must admit I’d greatly enjoy the trying.  It’s just funny to me, how confident you are, considering where you stand.”  She smiles, a tight, icy little smile that makes Pearl shiver in spite of herself, as she glances back at the village.

No, Pearl realizes, not at the village: at the rickety, towering sculpture in the center of it...and the yawning sinkhole beneath.

Dream’s smile falls off of his face so quickly Pearl can almost hear it thump into the sand.  George stands beside him, looking confused and utterly miserable, hands twisting together.  Pearl hates Dream almost as much for putting that expression back on his face as she does for the motionless bodies at her feet.

“What in the hell are you talking about,” Sapnap snarls, scowling in confusion.  

“Shall I call him,  Dream?” False continues softly, still smiling.  “How about it? We’ve all got time, after all, while we wait for our friends to wake.  I’m sure he’d be very interested in your stories.  He’s a much more courteous guest than you are.”

“He won’t come,” Dream protests, but he doesn’t sound so confident anymore. “He’s busy, and lazy, and thousands of leagues away besides.   He’s got a new playmate, and they’re enjoying themselves too much with their little empire down in the Southern snows to bother with you.” The smile returns to Dream’s face as if it never left, but there’s no mistaking the undercurrent of fear in his voice, the obvious way he’s trying to convince himself of what he’s saying.  “And why should he answer to you at all, hiding away with your own little playmates on your nowhere island?  You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” the Huntress asks, dark eyes glittering.

A tense silence settles over the beach.  No one moves.  Even the waves seem to hold their breath, waiting to see which way the scales will dip.

“Why?” Pearl finally asks, her voice breaking.  “What did we ever do to you?”

“Like I told you, they’ll be awake soon,” Dream says with a shrug.  “Ask them.”

“Leave,” False reiterates, her smile gone, her voice cold.  “All three of you.  And don’t come back.”

“Very well, as my Queen commands,” Dream answers, sketching a mocking bow.   “George, Sapnap, let’s go.”  He turns to Pearl with a smile, green fire dancing in his eyes.  "Until next time, my dear." And with that, he walks away, moving off towards the docks.

Pearl recoils, skin crawling with loathing and a creeping, nameless dread. “George, wait,” she entreats, sorrow and desperation thick in her voice.  “You don’t have to go with them.”

George looks back and forth, from her, to False and Wels and Iskall with their weapons drawn, to his two friends, and then back to Pearl.  “They’re my friends,” he murmurs helplessly.  

He turns, walking off down the beach after Dream.  A sob escapes Pearl’s throat.  

Of the three of them, Sapnap lingers the longest, staring up at the three on the rocks with his sword still drawn.  

“He’ll betray you, you know,” False says quietly.

“Stop talking about things you haven’t the least idea about,” Sapnap grits.

“He will, though.  He’ll betray you the way the scorpion betrays the frog in the old tales, because it’s his nature.  And because you have something he doesn’t, a capacity he doesn’t understand and never will, no matter how badly he wants it.  I know, because you and I are the same.  You’ve already begun to discover that capacity, as bumbling and resistant and stupid as you are.  When you finally figure out the rest, he won’t be able to stand it.  He’ll turn on you, and he’ll hurt you.”

“Whatever you say,” he mutters dismissively, but he sounds unsure of himself.  At last, he sheaths his sword, stalking off after the others.  Pearl wonders if either of them will remember this incident two days from now, if they'll be allowed to remember it.

When they’re finally gone, their boat nothing more than a hazy speck on the water, Pearl collapses to the sand.  She pulls Grian into her lap and holds him, not letting go even as Impulse comes to with a strangled scream, clutching at his abdomen and hurling the half-finished clock into the waves with a cry; as Bdubs scrambles wild-eyed to the water after it, his legs shaking like those of a newborn colt; as Scar begins to cough and gasp and struggle to fill lungs that don’t seem to remember how to breathe; as the apprentices stir, looking around with dazed and uncomprehending eyes.

It’s only when Grian finally wakes, silent and gasping and threatening to shake himself to pieces in her arms, his pupils shrunk to the size of pinpricks, that Pearl finally, finally allows herself to cry.

[little-kat07]

Unrequited Roceit, endgame logince, and endgame dukeceit idea where Roman and Janus are a double dancing and singing act (think like the musical Chicago) and are in a relationship as well. Roman is just happy to have a career with the love of his life, while Janus is MUCH more interested in fame and money- with or without Roman.

Janus: The press LOVES us! My act is wonderful and the producers can’t ignore it for long.

Roman: You mean OUR act?

Janus: Right. OUR act.

Roman soon meets Logan, a Broadway director who offers them an audition for a play. Musicals and Theater isn’t usually what they do, but they need the money. During the audition-

Logan: *clapping* That was amazing!

Roman: *breathless* You really think so?

Logan: You are going to go far in the world with that kind of talent, Roman. We’ll see you at the first rehearsal.

Janus: Wait- what about me?

Logan: Janus... you were amazing. You have so much talent, and it really pains me to say it’s not what we’re looking for. I’m sure there are lots of other directors who-

Roman is PAINFULLY oblivious to the fact Janus doesn’t care about him, so he stands up for his ‘boyfriend’.

Roman: What? You can’t reject him! Logan, I’ve been by Janus’s side in our career for decades. Either you take both of us or neither.

Logan: I... I suppose we can find a role for Janus.

Roman and Janus travel from Atlanta to New York, where their career is supposed to start.

Logan can tell Janus doesn’t care about Roman, and is heartbroken that Roman would stand up for the snake so easily. But he’s not supposed to get involved with the personal affairs of actors, so he tries not to think about it too much. 

He has a hard time with that since during rehearsal, Roman won’t stop being so fucking adorable all the time.

Logan: Hold on, Roman, could you-

Roman: Okay okay so I know what you’re going to say but I DIDN’T MEAN TO RAISE THAT LAST NOTE, It just felt really right and I can totally stop, but I actually had a little riff on the end there I wanted to do if I could and I know it’s really confusing and I’m rambling but please?

Logan: ...I was going to say move a bit to the left, but go ahead.

Janus is VERY AWARE that Logan and Roman have chemistry, and normally he wouldn’t care since he doesn’t actually love Roman but this time, his ticket to fame and glory is riding on the fact that Roman stays with him, so he tries to intercept their relationship.

...at the very same time that Remus, (who is Logan’s brother in this AU and i’m so sorry to intrulogical shippers) wants Roman and Logan to get together. He has been waiting for Logan to find love for so long and he is NOT about to let some snake boi take away his brother’s happiness.

So, Janus and Remus have a huge, unspoken battle over getting Roman and Logan together OR keeping them apart. Remus sets them up to be alone together, Janus sabotages it or gets there at the exact time and drives Roman away. 

Janus: What is your PROBLEM?

Remus: What is MY deal? Uh, bitch, what is YOUR deal? 

Janus: My financial and social future depends on Roman and Logan staying apart. I need Roman to get me to fame. YOU need to stay out of it.

Remus: Logan is my brother who up until this point was lonely as fuck. I’m not letting you break his only chance at happiness. You don’t even LOVE Roman!

Janus: Can you not talk so loud? Someone is going to hear us.

Remus: Maybe I WANT THEM TO!

Janus: *puts a hand over Remus’s mouth* Keep quiet, rat.

Remus: *licks it*

Janus: EW!! EW EW EW- WHAT THE FUCK, REMUS?

Remus: *cackling*

Roman hears.

That’s really all you need to know- He was right outside when Remus and Janus had that conversation. He stormed back to his room of the hotel and waited for Janus to come back, where they broke up and Janus took his things and left.

This is where things get interesting...

Remus: *knocks on janus’s hotel room door* Uh... snake?

Janus: *muffled grumbling* *opens the door* Yes?

Remus: *trying to smother his worried feelings* Hey snake bitch! I noticed you haven’t tried to... sabatoge any of my plans lately.

Janus: Y e s.

Remus: ...and I was just wondering why? I-I mean I just feel like you’re planning something. What are you planning? 

Janus: ...your futile attempts at being aggressive amuse me. I’ll tell you.

Janus has been feeling strange lately. He tells Remus how he and Roman go together- They had been best friends in highschool, and Janus actually did like Roman once. They used to be an inseparable couple, it was only when Janus realized Roman had talent that could bring him glory, did he begin to stop caring. Now that they’ve broken up, it’s hard to say whether Janus MISSES Roman- because he doesn’t, not really, it’s not about Roman as a person. He missed the feeling of being cared for by someone, being held like fame and money didn’t matter, those little moments Janus missed so achingly much because he thought he would ALWAYS have them- and now he doesn’t, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Remus: ...why did you tell me all that?

Janus: My life feels pretty shitty at the moment and I don’t see how spilling my guts to someone who’s already familiar with my less than pretty personality could bring me any lower.

Remus isn’t quite sure what to do with this information, he’s spent his entire time going up against Janus and hating him. Now he doesn’t see what he knew as Janus, he sees a confused and self-depreciating person- and he feels bad. But he knows he SHOULDN’T, he shouldn’t feel bad because Janus is the bad guy, Janus is the villain in the story-

But he isn’t anymore. This is what the villain looks like AFTER the fairytale, after the hero beats them- confused, lonely, and... crying?

oH my god, Janus is crying, do something, help him, holy fuck, nOoooOOO-

Meanwhile, Logan comforts Roman. 

Logan: ...I should have done something. I KNEW that snake was bad news. Now he-

Roman: I’m quitting.

Logan: I- what?

Roman: I’m quitting- Janus still has his role in the play, I don’t want to spend another second looking at him. He can have his fame and his money, I don’t care about revenge, I just wanna go home.

Logan: But- Roman, no- You have so much talent! You could show him up, get famous, spread your story in the papers and never have to deal with anything like that again-

Roman: I’m sorry, Logan- I’m not mad at him. I couldn’t care less about what happens to him- I’m going home.

Logan: Back to Atlanta??

Roman: Yeah... *sniffle* Atlanta. Or maybe Marietta, or somewhere in that area. Northern Georgia, basically- I don’t know how I can go back to Atlanta right now, not with all the memories and stuff.

Logan: But... Roman... what about me?

Roman: Huh?

Logan: I-I mean, what about everyone else? Virgil, Patton, and Remus- you’re just going to leave all of us behind? (he laughs, almost hysterically) how- how am I gonna find anyone on the face of the earth who can fit your role?

Roman: Oh, come on Lo. I’m sure anybody can fit my role in the play, it’s a simple character and-

Logan: N-Not that, Roman- Your role in our lives? How am I- How am I going to find anyone I love like I love you?

Cue crying confession, adorableness, all that Jazz. Logince pining FINALLY comes to a close- And the rest of the fic would focus more on the Dukeceit aspect.

Remus, at some point, comes to the glaring realization that he ENJOYED bickering and fighting with Janus. He almost stops BREATHING when he finds that, in fact, he likes JANUS. 

Like, Like-likes janus. (No, the L-word isn’t available yet sorry lmao)

Janus figures out pretty quickly that he likes Remus but he just came out of an awful relationship in which HE was the manipulative one, and he really isn’t in the mood to focus on romance right now. Partly for fear that he’ll hurt Remus like he hurt Roman, and partly because nOT EVERYTHING HAS TO REVOLVE AROUND ROMANCE, HE STILL HAS BILLS TO PAY AND JOBS TO WORK, YOU HEATHENS-

Anyway, we have a couple of chapters dedicates to healing the tear in Roman and Janus’s platonic relationship. Janus works hard to try and show Roman he can be trusted as just a friend. (When I say works hard I mean WORKS HARD. I mean, remember what he did? It’s gonna take some work to sift through this.) Eventually, Roman and Logan (newly dating) have a little talk about Janus’s attempts.

Logan: I just- I get that he’s trying to heal it, but... I don’t know. I think I’m just being protective because you two dated once and I thought, if you fell for him once... you might again. And then, he might hurt you again, or even WORSE, he won’t hurt you at all and I’ll have lost you to him permanently.

Roman: ...guess what?

Logan: What?

Roman: When I look at him, I feel nothing!!! :D

Logan: ...nothing?

Roman: *grinning* Nothing at all! Now that I look at him, he’s not even cute!

Logan and Roman continue to burst into laughter.

One day, this happens:

Roman and Remus: *being lovable chaotic idiots*

Logan: *sighs* Why do we love them?

Janus: No clue.

Logan: *eyebrow raise*

Janus: waIT WAIT Okay look I didn’t mean Roman, okay, I- I meant Remus, and- Wait no I- UGH! *slams head on table*

Logan: *smirks* You like my brother. I knew it.

Janus: I’m so sorry I keep falling for people you know.

A couple chapters dedicated to having funny group bonding time, until this happens-

Janus: *acting on stage* If only someone were to look at me with the eyes that Jeremiah does with Her, I might finally be complete and live on to learn to love. My heart-

Remus: *from the audience* I will!

Janus: *pauses and turns to look out* What?

Remus *waving frantically* I’ll look at you with eyes! I’m not sure how else I would look at you, so I’ll do the eyes!

Janus: ...What?

Remus: *groans* JUST DATE ME ALREADY!

Janus: *taken aback* Uh. Okay.

Remus: Wait, seriously?

Janus: Darling, just shut up, I’m doing a scene here...

Remus: :D

And they all lived. Happily ever after? Who knows. But they lived, and that was enough for them.

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Do what you will with this idea! Tag me if you write or draw something though-

Reposts are appreciated!!!