#lovingly to you all this is Not an invitation for discussion you know i hate being the discourse blog but. it's worth putting out there.

[jovenshires]

lowkey kinda frustrated by the lack of transparency from smosh idk if this is a common thing for all online content groups but this is personally jarring for me as someone who also is also a dropout fan :///

i totally get that. i've been a fan of smosh for like... six-ish years now so frankly im kind of used to their lack of addressing things atp. that isn't to say it's a good thing or even an excusable thing - im just saying it's something i've learned to live with.

i think it's easy to forget that smosh is a company. at the end of the day they are making decisions that they think are best for their business, what will make them the best monetary gain and what will keep the most viewers in their pocket. i can't say that i particularly agree with all of those decisions, but i also can't say that we as the fans should be allowed to dictate what they do. especially (and i say this knowing my perception personally revolves around the small subset of us here on smoshblr) when the fan base calling for transparency and accountability is a minority. as loud as smoshblr and smoshtwt seem, there are 26.5 million subscribers to smosh (and that's just the main channel - 46 million between the main three channels), most of whom aren't even aware of any of the things they're not taking accountability for. i've seen this happen with countless youtubers and online groups i've been a fan of. i won't name-drop them, but people often do what's best for their brand, not what's morally right. it's a hard thing to come to terms with, but we are just viewers consuming a product. they get to decide what to do with that product; we get to decide whether or not we consume it.

not to mention, it is a company run by real people. people whose relationships and friendships impact their choices. they may not address certain things and they may sweep things under the rug to protect people they care about. once again, i'm not saying whether this is morally good or bad or that it's okay (it's not), i'm just saying that it is a factor that they probably take into account.

now, once again, none of this is an excuse. i'm not going to say that smosh is the pinnacle, end-all, be-all of upstanding companies or that they shouldn't be transparent or that we should stop trying to ask for some semblance of change. this is a well-earned critique at this point. even with everything going on right now, this is not the first time (and i'm sure it won't be the last time either) that smosh has simply avoided addressing controversy. there used to be a master post that i had pinned to the top of my page of all the issues with smosh and who was addressing what and lemme tell you, it wasn't great. i've seen companies much more graceful and overall better at handling their messes. dropout is a great example, and try guys and starkid both come to mind as well. hell, even ogsog has been way better than smosh at this, and they spawned from them. this is a very real problem with smosh as a company and i totally understand frustration and disappointment. i'm with you, trust me.

i think this is something we all have to recognize, contend with, and then draw our own lines in the sand for. we can't dictate what the entire fandom does, and we definitely can't dictate what smosh does, as much as we may want to. all we can do is keep attempting to hold them accountable for their actions and deciding what we can and cannot abide by.

tl;dr: i think that's a very fair critique. i'm frustrated too. i hear you <3

[weebsinstash]

I'm not typically a fan of pregnancy au stuff for hazbin because it introduces a hell lotta new questions, but anyways, I DO find it absolutely entertaining thinking about a Reader who did the nasty with Alastor and had kind of a friends-with-benefits situation with him and he does his whole 7 year disappearing act without warning you or telling you anything at all (assumedly because he did not have a choice or opportunity) and he comes back, knocking on your front door, "say, doll! What's say we mosey on over to our old favorite jazz club to catch up on old times?"

and suddenly peeking out from behind your back is just the cutest little fawn with a head full of curls who is very clearly Alastor's son, clutching at your apron, "Mama, isn't he the man you listen to those old recordings of? He sounds the same"

Alastor feeling this, this WARMTH in his chest as you invite him inside your home and it's completely different from the last time he was there, filled with everything your son could need, his drawings and report cards from that nice school you break your back to afford stuck lovingly on the fridge and a hot home-cooked meal currently cooling on the stove as Alastor's invited for some food... if he feels comfortable. You and him discuss privately where your son can't hear as you get all weepy, "I'm sorry, but when you disappeared, I couldn't... ASK you what you would have wanted... I didn't want to have some kind of, of PROCEDURE and you hate me for it... and even from the very first scan, I loved him so much... he's my entire world... I couldn't even CONSIDER... getting rid of him. He's my beautiful smart baby boy and i would die for him"

Genuinely I think it would be real funny if Alastor is initially quite jealous actually for having to share you with a CHILD, but the more time he spends around the young boy, the more he realizes, oh, this is quite the upstanding young fellow! His mama raised him right and he likes to help around the house, likes to read lots of books, loves all kinds of music, helps his mother on all the crosswords and word searches and puzzle books, and he's smart enough to suss out pretty quickly, "sir are you my father"

and the second your son receives an answer, just, KICKING THE RADIO DEMON IN THE SHIN, "You're a horrible man!! You call yourself a gentleman but you left my mama to raise a baby all by herself!! You're terrible! Incorrigible! Disrespectful! Untoward!--" Your young son is breaking out the goddamn dictionary and synonyms on this man, "you lying, deceitful, devious, DEPLORABLE--"

And Alastor is watching this little kid threaten to beat his ass and not even caring that he's up against The Infamous Radio Demon, just shouting at Alastor until the young boy is absolutely changing colors in the face, getting SO SO upset for his mama that he's ready to FIGHT OVER IT, and Alastor is just, essentially, breaking out into laughter, "oh, so you ARE my son!! Aren't you a gutsy one!! Put JUST a little force behind that next one and it might actually sting a bit!" and pats the boy on the head. That settles it; he's accepted as Alastor's son like THAT

Of course, Alastor now caring for this boy does not come without its... complications. There might be some 'incidents' if you, for example, have other positive role models for your son, other men who are regularly coming around, making Alastor's new position as the boy's father and your not-quite-husband (yet) feel threatened and unstable and encouraging the Radio Demon to 'act out'. You're so happy to have Alastor back in your life that you don't even notice things are a little off until your son starts mentioning things like "Mama where did Mr Thomas go? He used to come by every Thursday to play chess but I don't remember seeing him for a while?" "Mama I know Benson has bullied me and pushed me down and stolen my things but I saw his mom crying outside the bookstore earlier saying he's gone missing and I think we should help look for him" "Mama I know Mr Alastor said we don't need her and he can teach me but I also like my old piano teacher. Could I have some lessons with her and some with Mr Alastor instead of just all of them with him? I miss Ms. Mason"

But like... you don't want to deny Alastor a relationship with his child after they both have already lost so much time and you don't want to deprive your son of his father without a good reason, so you stifle some of your suspicions. It's all for your son's sake, isn't it? And you can't help but, get a little selfish when Alastor insists on taking you and your boy out, going to see live bands, going to local events, taking your son to the county fair and you feeling tears in your eyes as, your boy finally gets to spend time with his father. It's like... it's like you're a real family... you've always wanted something like this, for him, for them, for yourself--

But... Alastor doesn't... see you THAT way, does he? He displays his emotions much differently than you, and there were even times in the past where Alastor himself drew the line in the sand that, oh yes you two were quite close friends, he has such a deep affection for you, but... romantically? Sorry, sweetheart, but no

... or so he thought. Now that he's back, he sees how deeply you love his son and sacrifice so much for him amd how much your son absolutely adores you and how, completely by yourself, without any of Alastor's help, you raised him into a fine young man that... the Radio Demon could see himself helping raise, a boy he can't help but feel a little pride in helping make and, can't help but feel a little sad he missed all sorts of important milestones for. And of course, of course of course of course, he missed YOU ever so much, and when Alastor looks up from his paper to see you at the stove, hair all out of place and your hands messy as you cook a meal for your son and his father, your little boy dutifully helping clean as you go, he can't help wish that THIS was how he spent his last 7 years.

Lucifer have mercy on anyone who tries to disrupt his new utopia of peace and tranquility. Could you even imagine, could you even fucking imagine you and Alastor are walking with your son and nearby TVs snap on and it's fucking Vox, showing your family on TV, talking shit to Alastor, using HORRIBLE language in front of your son--

And Alastor feels his love for you grow all the more as you use your own magic to surge through the television and begin strangling the newscaster right on the air, "DONT YOU DARE SHOW MY SON'S FACE ON TV YOU FUCKING--" and Alastor starts lovingly conversing with his son about how important it is to stand up for your family and your values as the pair of them watch you throw Vox around his recording studio in a frenzied rage, "You and your disgusting Vees always trying to peddle your worthless garbage to kids, you CREEPS!! BABIES DON'T NEED IPADS, RETINOL CREAMS, SKEEYEE DANCE ROUTINES, AND ATHLEISUREWEAR LEGGINGS THAT GO UP THEIR ASS, YOU CONSUMERIST IMMORAL SHELL OF A HUMAN BEING--"

Snapcut to you rejoining your family on the sidewalk with your hair a mess and visible blood on you while Vox is facedown on the floor in his broadcast unable to move before it cuts to a "technical difficulties, please stand by" screen. Alastor is oh so genuinely joyfully smiling, "Now who wants to go and get some waffles? I say we should celebrate any victory over our enemies with some tasty grub!!" and he takes you and your son's hands and is all but skipping down the sidewalk while his hated rival is bleeding out in his tower somewhere. Oh, Alastor will give the Television Demon his own revenge for daring to try and shame the lovely beautiful mother of his child and his beloved boy on that disgusting show. What kind of degenerate uses children for content, let alone threatens their safety? Alastor will be back for him later and do much, MUCH worse than you did.

For now, though? Alastor just wants to enjoy the sight of you and his son sitting in a booth with him while you all scarf down some hotcakes. A family of his very own, huh? How wonderful. If only his own mom were here to see it...

[persianflaw]

ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL!

ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL! The M*A*S*H fanfiction community has been approved! actually it was approved two weeks ago but i was on vacation

This community is open to any and all fans of M*A*S*H fic. Whether you're a writer, a reader, or a total newbie, this space is for you! You can talk about fics you've loved, ask for advice about a sticky plot point in your latest WIP, ask for recommendations for a ship you like, share an AO3 link to your latest fic, or share snippets from your work; the world is your oyster!

>> LINK <<

(As of 6.21.2024, communities don't let you generate an invite link yet, so just like/reply to this post if you want an invitation! This post will be updated with a proper invitation link once that feature is implemented.)

RULES (May be subject to change, but probably not that much change, lol.)

Be nice. Duh. Any bigotry or unkind behavior will not be tolerated. Welcome everyone with open arms and open hearts, and be ready to make new connections.

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Keep things on topic. We're joining this community to talk about fic, so let's make sure we keep our posts fic-related! General discussions about M*A*S*H are fun, but not what this community is intended for.

If you don't like something, scroll past. We all like different things, and that's what makes the world interesting. If someone shares a fic that isn't to your tastes, you don't have to read it. Leaving a rude comment on anybody's post will get you kicked. (If you're concerned that somebody is posting bigoted or hateful material, let me know, but I honestly don't anticipate this being an issue at this time.)

Use read mores for long posts or NSFW material. This makes navigating the dash easier, and helps prevent people from getting jumpscared by lovingly detailed descriptions of oral sex on the subway, something that has of course never happened to me.

Tagging or using content notes for your writing is encouraged. This is the best way to find your audience. People who aren't interested in a particular subject can skip over, and you'll also be able to draw in the people who are enthusiastically interested! If you think a particular topic might be especially sensitive, a read more is never a bad idea.

Only give concrit (constructive criticism) when asked. This is a somewhat contentious topic in fandom as a whole, so we're keeping it simple and asking that members don't give criticism on fic posts unless the author specifically requests it.

And one final note:

Small groups and communities can easily become cliquish. Few things feel worse than joining a group, hoping to find like-minded people, only to find yourself surrounded by what feels like an impenetrable friend group with no interest in talking to you. Nobody wants to feel alone in a crowd.

So when you join this group, don't just talk to people you already know. That defeats the point of joining this kind of community, anyway! Make an effort to talk to someone new. Leave a gushing comment about a stranger's fic excerpt. Tag someone who you think has a really cool interpretation of a character you like. Reply to a post that hasn't gotten any attention. Include people who seem a little shy. Be open and friendly and welcoming.

[sparkle-fiend]

Inspired by this post by @kedreeva (I’m not sure I quite did the original prompt justice, but hopefully some of the emotion comes across.)

***

It’s been a while since Steve attended a high school party. It feels weird to go to one now, a year out from his own graduation, but Robin was insistent.

“Please Steve? Vickie invited me to come, but I don’t want to show up on my own – what if she’s busy and I end up standing in the corner by myself like some kind of loser?”

She knows that she doesn’t actually have to work so hard to convince him, but that’s part of the routine. Robin begs and pleads, and Steve agrees after making a big show of complaining about it (as if he wouldn’t walk through fire for her).

“Fine, fine! But you owe me one.”

“Yesssss, thank you!”

Now, as he surveys the crowded interior of Robbie Ferguson’s house, he thinks she owes him more than one. This isn’t just a high school party – it’s a band party. He doesn’t see a single familiar face in the crowd of high school students and recent graduates, although odds are most of the people here will recognize him. And the memories probably aren’t fond ones.

“Robin!” he hisses through his teeth. 

She rolls her eyes at him. “They’re band geeks Steve, they don’t bite.”

He gives her one of his most annoyed looks, and she backpedals.

“I know, I know,” she says sheepishly, “but look! Eddie is here!” She points toward the corner of the room. Sure enough, Eddie is standing near the punch bowl with Gareth, Jeff, and Dave. He’s abandoned his usual layers in the summer heat, wearing just a red flannel shirt over a black tank top. 

Steve is surprised to see him. Even though Eddie was cleared of all charges, there have still been some rough moments; a few holdouts causing trouble (mostly friends of Jason Carver). It’s made him understandably hesitant to go out much.

So to see him here, enjoying a party with his friends – it’s good. Really good.

“I take it that dopey grin means I’m forgiven?” Robin asks slyly. She knows all about his crush, teasing him whenever she gets the chance.

“Nice try,” he grumbles. “You’re covering all my shifts with Keith for the next two weeks.”

Before she can protest this outrageous demand, Vickie finds them.

 “Robin, you made it!”

It’s Robin’s turn to be distracted, melting like chocolate under a summer sun as Vickie links an arm through hers – which is Steve’s cue to step aside.

“I’ll be over there with Eddie.”

Robin nods without looking, still gazing lovingly at Vickie. Steve snorts and heads for the punch bowl. 

He grabs a solo cup and ladles in some of the vibrant red punch, wincing when he takes a sip – that shit is strong. Someone laced it a little too generously with vodka.

“Steve!” Eddie chirps when he joins the group, raising a cup in salute. “Look who it is gentlemen – our illustrious majesty, the former King of Hawkins High himself!”

Steve tries to hide his wince. He hates being called that, even if Eddie’s bright grin does take some of the sting out of the teasing. He taps the rim of his cup against the one in Eddie’s hand and says, “How many of those have you had already?”

“Too many and not enough milord,” Eddie says, slinging a friendly arm around his shoulders. Steve leans into the touch, just a little, and nods in greeting to the rest of the Hellfire club members. Jeff and Dave smile back politely, but Gareth just scowls - nose wrinkling like he’s smelling something foul. Even after all the time Steve’s spent hanging around lately, Gareth still hasn’t warmed up to him.

As usual, Eddie ignores the tension between them, launching into a discussion about how the newly released Aliens movie compares to the original. Since they recently watched both movies together, this is a conversation Steve can actually participate in.

It’s devolved into a heated debate on the merits of sequels in general by the time Robin and Vickie join them.

“Are we interrupting?” Robin asks drily. 

“Not at all,” Eddie replies smoothly. “I know you’ve got some strong opinions on the art of cinema Buckley, what do you think of…”

“Annnnd that’s enough of that,” Steve interrupts. If the two of them start arguing about movies, they’ll be at it for the rest of the night (as Steve knows from unfortunate experience). “Who’s your friend?”

A vaguely familiar blond followed the girls over, watching the boys with wide eyes.

“Oh, this is Claire! She’s a flute player – she’ll be taking over as first chair next year.”

That means absolutely nothing to Steve, although he nods like it makes total sense (ignoring Robin’s knowing snort of laughter). 

Claire seems happy to meet Steve, but she clams up when the rest of the gang is introduced – which leads to everyone standing around in a moment of awkward silence.

Surprisingly, Dave is the one to come to the rescue. “We should play a game. Truth or Dare maybe?”

The girls glance at each other and nod, and Steve shrugs. It’s certainly not the worst party game they could choose.

With a stop to refresh everyone’s punch, they migrate to the screened porch at the back of the house and settle into a circle on the floor.

It ends up being a lot of fun. The last time Steve played was with Tommy and Carol, and they were brutal about it – daring people to streak through the house or take hot sauce shooters until they puked. This game is much more lighthearted.

Although that’s not to say Steve doesn’t still have a bit of mean streak. 

“Eddie, I dare you to sing Careless Whisper by Wham.”

“Ugh, critical hit!” Eddie yelps and falls to the floor, writhing like he’s been fatally wounded. Steve laughs and nudges his hip with one foot.

“Come on, you have to sing – or else you forfeit.”

“Have you no mercy? I thought we were friends.”

Steve just grins and starts humming the melody. Robin, Vickie, and Claire all join in until Eddie concedes; standing up to belt out the hated song with gusto. He makes it to the first rendition of the chorus before he collapses into helpless giggles.

“I don’t know, does it count if he didn’t sing the whole song?”

“It counts, it counts!” Eddie gasps.

The game continues in that vein - until Claire chooses ‘truth’. “Hmmm,” Vickie says thoughtfully. “Have you ever had a crush on anyone at this party?”

It’s the sort of question that could easily be answered with a ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ – no need for any revealing details. But Claire stares straight at Steve, fluttering her eyelashes flirtatiously as she says, “I think every girl at Hawkins had a crush on King Steve. I heard girls talk all the time about what an amazing kisser he is.”

Robin rolls her eyes and turns her head, pretending to gag. A year ago, Steve would have jumped at the chance to flirt right back. Now, it just makes him uncomfortable. Claire is like most of the girls he’s been with before - curious about his reputation, attracted by his looks or his popularity or his parents’ money. Completely uninterested in him as a person.

He wants to glance at Eddie, get a read on what the other boy might be thinking; but he’s afraid of what he’ll see. Or maybe afraid of what he won’t see – that Eddie will be totally unaffected by the fact that some girl is blatantly flirting with Steve right in front of him. 

He doesn’t have long to worry about it, because Gareth is up next. He clears his throat loudly and points at Steve. “Truth or Dare Harrington.”

There’s no right answer here – Gareth is clearly eager to fuck with him, whatever he picks. 

“Dare.”

The look of unholy glee in Gareth’s eyes should have been Steve’s warning.

“Well now that we’ve heard all about King Steve’s magic mouth, I think we need a demonstration. I dare you to kiss…” he draws it out, moving his finger around the circle like he’s taking his time deciding.

Claire looks eager, Vickie looks slightly uncomfortable, and Robin looks like she’s staring down the gullet of a slobbering demogorgon.

Don’t pick Vickie or Robin, he thinks fiercely. Don’t you do it. If Gareth picks either Vickie or Robin, his ass is toast. He doesn’t particularly want Claire all over him, but it would be the better option by far. 

He never even considered the possibility that Gareth would choose… “Eddie!”

Steve must have had more to drink than he thought, because his head is suddenly spinning. He hasn’t felt his stomach drop like this since he was locked in a Russian elevator, plummeting to an uncertain fate.

The group erupts with shouts and laughter. Eddie jumps to his feet, waving his arms around grandly. “I see I’m collateral damage here! Guess I’ll have to take one for the team!” He bows and laughs, the same way he did when dared to sing Careless Whisper.

He’s so… casual about it. Totally unphased. 

This is all a joke to Eddie. It doesn’t mean anything – not like it does for Steve. Everyone in the group just laughs and laughs, as if they wouldn’t look at him in disgust if they knew he wanted to kiss Eddie for real.

He meets Robin’s eyes briefly across the circle - the only one here that knows what’s going on in his head. She looks like she’s in pain.

Steve swallows hard and reaches for the cool, casual mask he used to wear so well. This is a game – just a party game. Exactly like the time he kissed Tommy on a dare at Jimmy Allen’s birthday party. He can do this.

He smirks and stands up, keeping his shoulders loose, subtly wiping his clammy palms against the rough denim of his jeans. He and Eddie face each other in the center of the circle. 

The older boy has a faint smattering of freckles over the bridge of his nose, and a tiny shaving nick by the corner of his mouth, near the scar that traces his jaw. His lips are so full, the prettiest mouth Steve’s ever seen. He doesn’t dare even look into those dark eyes.

Just a quick kiss and done, easy – no big deal. Steve licks his lips reflexively, wishing he’d put on some Chapstick or something, before he starts to lean forward. But then Eddie pretends to swoon, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead like some southern belle in a movie.

Would he be this dramatic if they were kissing for real? Steve’s imagined it so often, a different way each time – sometimes soft and tender, sometimes silly and fun; just like Eddie.

He certainly never imagined the laughter in the background, or Dave shouting, “Come on man, do it already!”

Steve freezes. At the urging of his friends, Eddie takes the initiative and steps closer – until he’s stopped by a hand pressed flat against his chest. 

“Stop. Please stop.” Is that Steve’s voice? He didn’t mean to say anything - but with that crack in composure the whole mask starts to fall apart, like a dam splitting open.

“I can’t do this. Not… not like this.”

Eddie frowns in confusion. 

Of course he’s confused – it’s just a game. Everyone was having fun until Steve had to go and ruin it. He choked on the dare, and now he’s even tearing up - like an idiot, right in front of everyone.

There’s no salvaging this. He ducks away with a mumbled excuse about needing some air, practically running from the house. Hopefully everyone is tipsy enough that they’ll all just forget about it in the morning. 

He doesn’t make it very far before he hears Robin behind him. 

“Steve! Hey… wait up!”

He stops at the edge of the yard, where the house lights fall away into shadow, and waits for her to catch up.

“Are you okay?”

“Sure.” Even he can hear the choked waver in his voice. 

“Steve…”

“It’s okay Rob, really.” It’s far from okay, and they both know it. “I think the punch just went to my head.”

They stare at each other, sharing one of those silent moments of communication that Dustin always points to as proof that they share a telepathic bond.

“You should go home then,” she says softly. “I’ll catch a ride with Vickie.” 

He’s sure she’ll want to talk about it later, but for now… she’s giving him an out. “Thanks Rob.”

He watches until she’s back inside, just breathing in the smells of fresh-cut grass and a nearby cigarette – deep breaths in and out. Then he finds his car (thankfully not blocked in) and hightails it home.

****

(Continued in Part 2)

[cowgurrrl]

Getting Older

Author’s note: FUCK IT WE’RE TALKING ABOUT TOMMY’Y GRIEF

Summary: "I love my little brother so much. I wish I could take back the years I spent treating him like I didn't." aka Joel and Tommy Talk [1.5k]

Warnings: discussions of deployment/Army, mentions of Sarah and Tess, pregnancy, deceased parent, learning to love someone even when you can't recognize them anymore

The brothers had been avoiding the topic pretty much since Joel learned of Maria. They were close once. Of course, they were. Joel let Tommy live in his home, work with him, and help him raise his daughter once he came back from Afghanistan. When the nightmares got bad, Joel was there in his stoic, big brother way to ask about therapists and support groups for veterans. When Joel didn't have enough money to buy Sarah a bike for her birthday despite scraping together pennies and dimes for months, Tommy miraculously came up with it after a few rounds of Texas Hold' Em at the local bar. They were a team. Had been since their mom died. 

But twenty years of a world ruled by fungus is enough to break any bond. The first few weeks in Jackson are rough. Not only are Joel and Ellie recovering from their journey, but Jackson offered up a whole new world of pain that Joel didn't even know existed. Kids Sarah's age running around without a care in the world. His baby brother suddenly no longer a baby anymore but a husband and a father-to-be. The little graveyard a little further away with lovingly etched headstones that make his stomach turn when he thinks about the river his little girl died next to. Couples walking the street hand-in-hand, and he knows Tess hated PDA, but maybe she would've made an exception. You don't realize how big a bed can be when it's suddenly empty for the first time in a decade. They struggle. All of them. There is no one in this little fucked up family that goes untouched by the hurt. 

It takes a month before Joel invites Tommy and Maria over to their house for dinner. Joel does his best to make a niceish dinner and even buys freshly cut flowers from the market. Ellie teases him about it, and he teases her back, but deep down, he just wants everything to be okay again. Normal. Tommy and Maria arrive with a wave of polite smiles and offerings of help, which Joel refuses like any good host. He finishes dinner while Ellie tells her aunt and uncle about school and her new friends. It's quaint when they sit down at the table together. If you squint, you could almost believe this is how it's always been. 

They shoot the shit and tell stories and enjoy the meal Joel lovingly made for them. Joel even asks about the pregnancy, which makes his insides clench like a vice grip, but he doesn't let it show. Maria gives surface details: how far along she is, how she's feeling, how the nursery's coming along. He's silently grateful they don't talk about names or clothes. He'd always saved Sarah's baby clothes in little boxes in the attic. "Just in case," he told himself. Whether it was in the event of a sibling for Sarah or a cousin, he never got to find out. Now he wonders what became of the boxes of pastel pinks and yellows somewhere in Austin. 

When Maria yawns and announces she's tired, Tommy offers to take her home. She refuses and looks at Ellie. "I've got some more clothes for you back at the house. Wanna come look at them with me?" She asks. Ellie looks to Joel for permission or maybe reassurance that she's safe to go with Maria. He nods and picks up her empty plate. "You better get a move on." He urges, and just like that, they're out the door and talking like they've known each other forever. Joel and Tommy collect the dirty plates and wash them in the sink side by side, a tradition their mother instilled in them so young they can barely remember a time when they didn't do it. Tommy's the first one to break the silence.

"She's a good kid." He says, testing the waters, and Joel nods. 

"Most of the time," Joel says, laughing to himself. "She's nothin' like Sarah." It's the first time they've talked about her. Really talked about her for a long time. Tommy freezes like he's trying to figure out what to say or do, but Joel continues. "They're both smart and funny and strong. I think they woulda even been friends. But Ellie…" he trails off. "Ellie's just different. A pain in the ass, sure, but different." He shrugs as he puts a cup face down to dry on the towel next to the sink. "And your little one'll be different, too."

"Joel-" 

"I know you're gonna wanna compare them to Sarah 'cause that's what I did, but it don't work like that. Every kid's different. You just gotta figure out how. You gotta give 'em a chance to show you who they are." He continues. Tommy knows not to interrupt him when he gets on a soapbox like this. So, just like he did when they were kids, he stays quiet and follows his big brother's lead. "I'm happy for you. I really am, and not 'cause I'm forcin' it or anything. I always knew you were gonna be a good dad, and I know it now."

"But?" Tommy asks, and Joel shakes his head. 

"No 'but.' I'm just thinkin'." 

"'Bout what?"

"Your wife kinda scares me," Joel admits, making Tommy laugh. The sound is reminiscent of summer days spent roughhousing in the backyard or playing with little green Army men in the kitchen while their big chocolate lab, Arlo, lay on the cool tile nearby. 

"Yeah, me too," Tommy says, and now it's Joel's turn for childhood giggling. When the laughter dies down, Joel turns and looks at his brother fully. If he looks past the beard and the long hair, he can almost see the eighteen-year-old he dropped off at boot camp all those years ago. It pushes on an ache in his heart, and maybe that's what prompts him to finally say what he's been dodging this whole time.

"I wish I was there," he mumbles. "Your wedding." The weight of the admission hits Tommy square in the shoulders, and he clears his throat. 

"Me too." 

"Was it… I mean, was it nice? Did you get all fancy or anythin'?" He asks, and Tommy chuckles. 

"Yeah, it was nice. Borrowed a suit that was a little too big, and Maria wore a dress that was a little too old, and we got married down at the courthouse few years ago. I've got a few pictures if you wanna see 'em." Tommy smiles, and Joel does too, and for a second, they're not men beaten down by wars and death. They're two little boys with missing teeth and red popsicle staining their mouths. 

"That's nice," Joel nods. "You deserve nice. I want you to have nice. Always did." The words drown out the dripping sink and the wind blowing through the trees and shaking leaves against the windowpanes. They land somewhere deep in Tommy's stomach, where he stored all emotion and grief down after that September night when he dragged Joel away from Sarah because he was being a "fuckin' idiot." They don't fully relieve him of what he feels is his share of the blame for how things happened, for what happened to Sarah, but they made it a little less heavy. Tommy didn't realize tears had sprung to his eyes until Joel sucked his teeth and pulled him into his chest like he did when Tommy scraped his knees, falling off his bike in second grade. 

"I love you. I'm sorry I acted like I didn't for so long." Joel whispers, his own tears threatening his lash line, and Tommy tightly wraps his arms around his big brother. 

"Love you too," Tommy says, removing a stone from the pile on Joel's shoulders. "Thanks for comin' back for me."

"I'll always come back for you. You're my brother."

Not a soldier. Not a hunter, a raider, or a smuggler. Not even a patrolman. A brother. It's been a long time since Thomas Miller has been allowed to only be a brother. He thinks he likes it. He thinks he can get used to it. He thinks there will never be a day after this one where he doesn't include brother in his list of titles because, for once, he's proud to be Joel's brother, and he will be until the day he dies. 

When they were little, and they used to fight over stupid things like bikes and what music to play in the car, their mama would look at them in the rearview mirror and raise her eyebrows in the exact way Joel is prone to doing and shake her head. "Now you two better settle it 'fore I settle it for you," she'd scold. "Y'all are gonna have to learn to live with one another 'cause I'm not gonna have all this fightin' all the time. Y'all are brothers, and that's gotta count for something." Tommy thinks he can hear his mother's voice in his head as they cry together for the first time in decades. He thinks she'd be happy with the way they turned out. He thinks she'd be proud of them for coming back together in this way.

They're brothers, after all. That's gotta count for something. 

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

[piastrinorris]

omg hi lovie— congratulations on 2k! you deserve it so much <3 i would love to take a look around in the hall of mirrors 🪞💕

i’m a bit of a clutz sometimes, pretty lazy to be honest, trying to cut back on all the junk food i love but man it’s hard 😔 but i’m hard at work and thriving towards my goals for this year!

when i’m home i usually just hang out with my dog, watch way too many tiktoks 😭, lovingly gaze at all the plants i’ve gathered over the years that i always forget to water until somebody points it out to me or some leaves go brown.

i love a clean kitchen, so i’m always scrubbing it but all the other rooms in my house can be messy for all i care (though i do love a clean house) but my eye twitches every time there’s a mess in the kitchen, it’s sort of an obsession really.

i love reading books, but i tend to read them in phases. like if i’m in a reading phase, i’ll read multiple books in a couple of weeks, then i might not open any pages in months. i love puzzles too! sometimes i wish i could paint, but i’m horrible at it. my favourite season is summer because i’m sick of the icy wet roads and i’m always cold, my feet are like icycles - you can always find me under a blanket.

my morning routine has been the same for years— i wake up, check my socials, then i go pee, and i can’t start my work before a cup of tea ☕️ forest fruit flavor is my favorite 🥺

i have a huge phobia of snakes (specially big ones, like anacondas n stuff), my favorite holiday is christmas and i think my all time favorite comfort movie is the wedding singer w adam sandler and drew barrymore 🫶🏻

i hope this is enough! ily 💜

okay so i went looking on your blog for more inspo/research and uhh hi?? you're so cute????? anyways:

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ 2k follower celebration event ongoing! ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

i think you'd work at a cafe, that way you can get all of the good tea ☺️ but also the good tea 👀 bc everyone frequents your cafe so you hear all the good gossip, which of course, you keep to yourself... until friday night, when you and your besties all get together, get some wine, rent a movie and discuss the week's findings, seeing if you can match anybody's stories together. it's great fun.

usually, the others pick the movie, but on this particular occasion, they've asked you to. as you hand steve your movie of choice, the first thing he notices is how cold your hands are, wrapping both of his around yours. you know he's a serial flirt, and it's always annoyed you a little how he assumes he can charm the pants off of anybody. you're even more annoyed at the fact that it's actually working. you feel butterflies in your stomach while he's holding your hands, and when he's negging you for your choice in movie, you hate how you're even more giggly in your defence.

you hate how you still think about the fact he winked when he finished your transaction throughout the entire following week. you hate how, when your friends are planning this friday's hangout, you're the first one to volunteer picking a movie. you hate how easy it is for you to blurt out why you rent out a movie every friday to steve and robin when they're serving you. you hate that their reaction leads you to inviting them along. you hate how, no matter where you sit that night, even if it's between your friends, steve always finds a way to sit as close to you as he can.

you hate even more that it's working. you absolutely hate the fact that you are falling head over heels for steve harrington. and yet, when he kisses you for the first time that night, there's not a single ounce of hate in your body.

[lebenspurpur]

showering with the slashers

|Michael| (SFW)

You will need months to convince him to shower with you. He is surprisingly insecure and shy when it comes to nudity and especially taking off his mask. In the beginning he will even leave it on until he realizes that the steam plus the hot water are making it impossible to keep it on.

After he decides to join you he will ask for one every day. I mean he won't ask verbally he'll just stand in the bathroom when you shower until you invite him in.

Most of the time he will just place himself underneath the stream of water like a statue and let you shampoo his hair. If he's feeling generous, he will do the same for you and give you a little head massage. Michael will always use your soap since it smells like you but obviously this idiot won't ever admit that.

His favorite are showers in the evening because he adores laying in bed after a long, hot shower. Those are also one of the rare times where he actually allows cuddling.

|Vincent Sinclair| (SFW)

Vincent prefers bathing over showering. Though he won't say no to a shower.

It will definitely take him a while to gain the confidence to join you. In the beginning he'll turn his back towards you so you won't see his face. Show him love and appreciation and he might open up a little.

Vincent loves dealing with your hair. Obviously he has like 15 different hair products even though he rarely uses them. Now he can use them on you.

If you shampoo his hair he is in heaven. Imagine him underneath a stream of water lovingly gazing into your eyes while you softly trace his scalp with your fingertips. I love him, what can I say.

He will dry your hair himself and then gladly put lotion on your body. Such a sweetheart. Afterwards he likes cuddling while watching something together.

|Bo Sinclair| (NSFW)

You won't even notice when Bo enters the bathroom. He just suddenly stands behind you, arms wrapping around your upper body and his lips attached to your neck.

After a passionate make-out session he might wash your body. He likes to use his soap since that's a sign that you're his. As if the marks he leaves weren't enough.

Normally the shower is one of the rare places where he expresses his real emotions because nobody except for you will see them there. So expect lots of praising while his soapy, calloused hands trace your hips with such tenderness, you don't even recognize him.

Afterwards he'll either make you dirty again ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) or he'll lay on your chest, relaxing after a long day.

|Lester Sinclair| (SFW)

Yes Y/N, he'll gladly shower with you! He will take good care of you and that's a promise.

You'll always be glad when he showers with you since, let's be honest, he smells like rotten road kill. If your soft hands go over his scarred and exhausted body he cant' help but stare at you fondly.

I feel like Lester would try to make bubbles with soap in his hand. Or make a beard out of foam. He always tries to make you let out that adorable laugh of yours, what'd you expect?

After showering he'll wrap you up in his arms and tell you about his day. Whenever he chuckles about a funny memory a deep rumble can be felt in his chest. It never fails to make your heart grow warmer. As soon as you fall asleep he presses a soft kiss to your forehead and tucks you under the covers.

|Baby Firefly| (SFW)

Baby will always invite herself in the bathroom as soon as you're comfortable with that. Her soft hands will softly massage your shoulders and back and you can feel the knots and tight spots slowly relaxing.

But don't be foolish, she expects a massage as well. Baby values fairness so every action of her has a price. Not that you mind.

Baby's soap smells like cotton candy and fits her aesthetic wonderfully. Sometimes you'll steal a little bit for yourself.

I also believe that Baby likes to sing in the shower. According to my personal opinion one of Baby's big passions is music. Her sweet voice will be loud and clear and if you look at her she'll wink at you and smile.

After you're done she'll gladly let you brush her hair. Since the mane of hers often doesn't do what she wants it to do she gladly accepts help. If you put a hair product in her hair while softly clearing the knots she'll close her eyes while humming faintly.

|Otis Driftwood| (NSFW)

Otis is very similar to Bo when it comes to showering. Though he is also surprisingly shy. Not because of his body, more because of your feelings. Do you really want him in the shower?

After he gets over those thoughts he'll slip behind you every now and then, his big hands caressing your ass, scaring the shit out of you. If you shriek or jump he'll just chuckle and continue raking his hands over your naked form.

Even though he pretends like he doesn't like it, he loves if you wash his hair. Come on have you seen that mane? It needs some serious care and especially good conditioner. It's also dyed (I refuse to believe that his natural hair color is white.) so a good wash is long overdue.

Afterwards he'll gladly lay in bed with you while reading or discussing things. I believe that Otis also enjoys reading stories to his partner. After all you can discuss them with him later.

|Billy Loomis| (NSFW)

Are you kidding? Of course he'll shower with you!

His eyes plus hands will never leave your naked body, prepare for him just being horny. Yes Y/N, he'd love to put soap on your body. What do you mean not just on your chest and ass?

Eventually he'll grow tired of just looking at you. His hands will be all over your body soon, his lips attached to your chest leaving little marks.

If he's tired he'll oblige to your charm and wash your body without being naughty. Afterwards he'll just silently hold you close while the hot water engulfs both of you. I mean mostly him but his body will keep you warm.

|Stu Macher| (SFW)

Stu enjoys every activity he can do with you on his side.

He'll gladly massage your back, pressing little kisses to your shoulder plate. His hands will be so soft when they rub soap all over your wet form.

He loves when you try to wash him but fail because you're too small. He'll steal a kiss or two when you try and reach him by standing on your tip toes.

After all the cleaning is finished he will wrap his strong arms around you and press his chest against your back, humming fondly. He'll close his eyes and softly let the water flow over your connected bodies.

|Brahms Heelshire| (NSFW)

Brahms hates cleaning. No matter how. You will have to coax him into the shower by showering with him. It's really the only time when he ever showers.

Don't expect him to actually wash himself. You can do that Y/N. Such a malicious little gremlin. As soon as your hands touch him he'll put his head on your shoulder and start whispering very naughty things. Y/N you're torturing him, what is he supposed to do?

Okay so there might not be a lot of cleaning. If you really want him to be clean you will have to use a punishment or coax kind of strategy. No good night kiss for Brahms if he doesn't clean himself I guess. God he will be so whiny. Brahms is going to pout for days after this.

Afterwards he still wants your attention. Y/N wasn't he a good boy? He deserves a reward doesn't he?

|Josef| from the creep series (SFW)

Shower? With him? You really want that? Eh.. okay.

He'll be a bit insecure, Josef isn't used to receiving adoration. As soon as you start putting soap on his body he visibly relaxes and sighs softly. He loves being touched, yet he never asks for it.

Afterwards he'll always want to shower with you. Please just touch him some more.

Josef will happily return the favor. His touches will be very soft and tender, he doesn't want you to feel any kind of uncomfortable or scared.

After showering he will rub lotion on your warm skin, he wants it to be healthy Y/N!

Josef will also prepare a healthy meal. Food is important Y/N and god he loves cooking for you. His body in new clothes, smelling like aftershave, wet hair in a bun, singing quietly while he makes roasted vegetables. Please wrap your arms around his torso. He will nearly faint.

|Thomas Hewitt| (SFW)

It will take him a while, mainly because of the mask. However coaxing works quite good so he might give in after you bribe him a little.

Tommy is going to wash your hair very precisely, not wanting to cause knots. He knows how hot in can get in Texas as well which leads him to move away from the refreshing water, leaving you more space. He's just very considerate, compared to other slashers (ehem, Bo.).

Please wash his hair, he'd feel so special. Especially if it's your own shampoo.

After showering he'll wrap you in his strong arms and nuzzle his face in your neck, mask off. Do whatever you want Y/N, he's just glad he can lay next to you right now.

[devilish-miasma]

Hello! do you know gokushufudo(the way of the househusband)? For a request, it could be possible Dante and vergil and nero(platonic) with S/O who is like tatsu, the immortal dragon. Excelent and Cook extremely delicious, have scary smile 🤣 and really love and care his boyfriend/ son? Hahah it would funny see the reaction of vergil when nero introduces him to her as his mother, they shake hands and she warns him not to hurt her son(Nero) again. While squeezing him hand too hard (super strength) Thanks!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ahh hello again. Unfortunately I do not know much of what you’re talking about. I did some research while I wrote this but I would like to apologize for any inaccuracies written here, as my knowledge of this anime is severely lacking.

I would also like to inform you that this was kept gender-neutral, except for Nero’s part. I know you used feminine pronouns when you spoke of Nero, so I tried to respect that. I hope you have a lovely day/afternoon/night and enjoy reading.

Toxic

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dante

Oh my god, finally, someone who can get Dante to eat something other than pizza and strawberry sundaes.

Devil May Cry has been the cleanest it's ever been since your arrival. Cleaning the shop provided stress relief, cooking, too. So, you have no problem with your job as a housespouse. Though, it can be annoying when the electric is shut off.

Lady and Trish definitely tease Dante about it. Saying that the shop wouldn’t look this good if you hadn’t come around. Though, they do wonder what screws you have loose to marry Dante of all men.

Dante’s not one for finer, expensive cuisine, but he does appreciate the effort you put in meals. Making him meals for when he’s out demon hunting, preparing a meal for when he returns home. It makes Dante feel special, and feeling this way has made him fight harder. It pushes his determination to return home quicker and see you.

He’ll convince you to make homemade pizza. You only learn a recipe because it makes him happy, but you refuse to make a habit out of it. You just want Dante to eat something other than pizza for once.

Sometimes, Dante will come home super late, and he’ll see you at the table, asleep. Gently, he’ll pick you up and put you to bed, only for you to grab him and grumble about food in the fridge. Dante just smiles and kisses your temple.

As nice as you are, you’re also scary. You definitely scare him at times, including those affiliated with Devil May Cry. You have this… expression that demands authority. You even get Vergil to listen to you, and that’s saying something.

“You’re seriously that intimidated by someone so smaller than you, Verge?”

“How laughable for you to assume such things, little brother, when you bat your eye at them and do whatever they wish.”

Dante and Vergil’s fights end quickly now that you’re in the picture. Both of them stop due to not wanting to feel your wrath.

In general, you’re a badass. Once, you caught wind of a demon hunting job gone wrong, and you showed up, guns blazing (literally), proclaiming to your adversaries that you’re a housespouse. Dante has never seen anything hotter.

You are a sweetheart to Dante, though. Very loving, caring deeply for your husband. You lovingly kiss and hold him, his inner demon purring in happiness. The relationship makes Dante feel content, and he knows this is what he’s always wanted.

Vergil

“Ah yes. Me. My spouse. And their ability to make demons cry.”

You’re kind, understanding, and strong, of course he fell for you. You are also unafraid of him. Having someone like that forced Vergil’s walls down.

Vergil built his walls up tall and strong, and you were so, so stubborn and knocked them all down. He’s never felt so safe, so understanding with anyone before. Falling in love with you seemed as natural as breathing.

As sweet and kind as you are to him, your wrath is not to be tested. Vergil is not a man who is intimidated easily, but seeing what you’ve done to him and Dante when they fight made him realize you’re a force to be reckoned with. And he admires that.

Vergil enjoys cooking discussions with you. He loves seeing you become enthused with your craft, seeing how you become when speaking about cooking. Sometimes he doesn’t understand what you’re talking about but he enjoys learning. And you enjoy teaching him.

He’ll sometimes watch you cook. It’s very relaxing.

Cooking for him makes Vergil feel emotions. It is an act that makes him fall deeper and deeper in love with you.

Vergil doesn’t become jealous in your relationship knowing you can put those who flirt with you in their place. Once, Dante flirted with you, unaware of your relationship with him. Dante earned the shock of his life when you announced that you “had a man one-hundred times finer than” him while showing off your ring, and then grabbing Vergil and showing his ring.

Knowing that you’re so loyal also provides comfort to Vergil. He doesn’t know what he’d do if you’re suddenly not in his life.

When he’s out demon hunting with his brother or son (or both), you’ll always make lunch for him. Vergil has taken it upon himself to eat on top of Nico’s van to avoid being teased. Not that it's embarrassing, he just sincerely hates it when his brother does that.

You’re always up waiting for him, even though he tells you not to. You await with dinner ready, and Vergil can faintly smell cleaning products. From earlier cleaning, he guessed. It's a natural, normal thing and Vergil cannot imagine himself coming home to anything other than that.

Nero (platonic) (fem!reader)

You first met Nero at the grocery store, and this sweetheart grabbed something for you on the very top shelf. You met him again out in public when some men were harassing you, which he unkindly told them to fuck off. That’s when you invited Nero for tea, and you’ve adopted him ever since.

You are absolutely kind to him, a total sweetheart. Nero came to your place multiple times for lunch, even invited you to meet Kyrie. You bonded with his girlfriend through cooking, even teaching her a thing or two.

Soon, Nero found himself attached to you. He looked up to you, an older, positive feminine figure in his life, one he thought he’d never have. He began to see you as a mother, and due to how nurturing you were, it seemed natural for those feelings to fall in place like pieces to a puzzle.

With that sweet, caring side was a fierce protective personality.

“Don’t talk to me or my son ever again,” You growl at some asshole. Nero has never felt so cherished before.

When you met Vergil, it was hilarious and scary. Nero already told you about the whole arm ripping off business, and it formed some bitterness within you. When you met, you put on a happy mask and introduced yourself to this stoic, unflinching man. You knew what you needed to do.

As you shook hands, Vergil made a face best described as surprise. Through your smile, an intimidating aura leaked off of you. You gripped his hand with such force it surprised him that you, a human woman, was capable of such strength. Strength that affected a full grown half-demon.

You suddenly grasped his collar and forced him down to your level, your lower eyelid twitching.

“Listen here, mister,” your voice oozed with venom and protectiveness over Nero. “If I ever hear that you’ve hurt my son again, I will make you rue your very birth. Do that shit again and you will regret it. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Nero and Dante have never laughed so hard.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Read it on AO3 | Rules | Buy this devil a coffee

[foodieforthoughts]

Journey through time - Part 5

Summary: Your relationship with Syverson over the years.

Warnings: fluff and only fluff.

A/N1: Last part to this mini photo series. Thanks to @agniavateira who has provided me with so much inspiration. Also thank you to everyone who read and liked and commented. You guys make me so happy. (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)

A/N2: I'll be taking a small hiatus from posting fics for now. But I'll be back soon. ❤️

As much as Sy adored his daughter, secretly he had always wanted a son. Two years after Adeline was born, when he was back from his oversees tour for three weeks, Sy took it upon himself to get you round and plump with his kids again. He was overjoyed when you told him over a call that you were pregnant. Although it saddened you both that this time, Sy wasn't going to be around when you gave birth to your child. When you told him he was going to be a father to twin boys, Sy had hollered with glee, making a couple of his men come knocking at his door to see if he way okay. That was a very awkward call, where you were waving at his men while they congratulated you. You sent him a copy of your sonogram, along with a picture of you with Adeline in a care package. "Mini me's," He would say while looking at the picture, "And my princess with my queen." Your heart would flutter like the very first time he had kissed you; upsetting you at the distance and yet also filling you with love. Sy asked his parents to come live with you, help you with Adeline, as you got big and started experiencing difficulty in moving around. When you went into labour, his mother tried to get him on call, just like he had requested. But they were unable to connect to his phone, wondering if he was safe and sound or just away doing things that were expected of him to do as a captain. Your emotions were unbounded when you gave birth to your sons, worrying about Sy and going through the long process without him. The next day, Sy saw his sons for the first time over the video call, happy tears springing in his eyes as you cradled the two boys in your arms. "They have your eyes, Sy. Have you thought of names yet?" You had asked, having decided long time ago that since you had named your daughter, Sy would name his sons. "James and Noah." He had sniffed out, smiling at you lovingly.

Captain Syverson retired as Major Syverson after serving 20 years of active duty. Sy joined as a coach for Little League Baseball team, becoming a favorite amongst his players and their moms. Every morning you would kiss Sy goodbye as he walked out the front door, holding little Adeline's tiny hand in his to drive her to her school on his way to work. Your days were filled with less worrying about Sy's safety and more on providing a loving family for your kids. It helped that at the end of the day, your dining table was occupied with your children and your loving husband, sharing their day's events. Weekends were spent in parks with the whole Syverson clan out for picnics, you watching your husband running around with James and Noah, Adeline who was a spitting image of her father, perched on his strong shoulders. Somedays you couldn't believe your life turned out the way it did, mostly when you would walk inside the living room to find Sy sprawled on the sofa with Adeline curled on his side, James and Noah snoozing on his chest. You would wake him up, carefully peeling your daughter away from her father and take her to bed, while Sy got both boys in his arms with little to no effort and took them to their own room. At the end of the day, when parenthood and responsibilities left you both weary, you and Sy found solace in each other's arms while drifting off to a peaceful slumber.

It was the most devastating day in Sy's life when his teenage daughter told him she wanted to pursue modelling. Adeline was stubborn and opinionated, graced with Sy's beautiful features. He had stared at his daughter with wide eyes, cup of coffee stopping midway to his mouth. "You want me to be okay with grown men gawking at you?" He had gruffly replied, anger evident with his eyebrows knitting together and his lips forming a frown. You had learned over the years to not interfere with Sy's ways of parenting. James and Noah had awkwardly slid off their chairs, both of them avoiding what was to come next. The discussion had ended with father and daughter, arguing with each other, eventually Sy sending a crying Adeline away to her room. Neither of them had spoken to each other the rest of the day, Adeline refusing to eat dinner and Sy drinking too many glasses of whiskey. "I cannot believe she thinks modelling is a career choice." He had scowled later in the night, you both staring at the ceiling while lying in bed. "Didn't you once tell me you had hated your father for sending you off to military school? Do you want your daughter to hate you?" Sy had sighed, turning on his side to face you. "That's different. Adeline's our little girl, it's my duty to protect her." Understanding completely what Sy was feeling as a parent, you had too turned on your side and placed your hand on his scruffy cheek. "You taught her to be strong, independent. She will always be our little girl. Don't you trust her to take decisions for her life? And even if she fails to do what she desires, don't you want to be there for her when she would need her dad?"

The next day you had watched from your kitchen window as Sy and Adeline talked while sitting on the swings in the backyard, ending with long hugs and lots of tears.

While Adeline roamed around the country for fashion shows, Sy groomed his sons to join the army someday. It was not an acceptable behavior, but both of you had your favorites when it came to the twins. Noah, the stronger of the two was decidedly his father's favorite, adding to his delight when by the end of high school, he wanted to go to a military academy. James, the apple of your eye, on the other hand, wanted to become a doctor, much to Sy's dismay. But lessons were learned from the time with Adeline and for that reason only, Sy did not oppose. Noah was sent off to Virginia to a military academy, going on to join the air force as it was affiliated with his school; while James buried himself in studies, moving to Connecticut to attend medical school. Weekends that were spent with picnics in the park, now consisted of video conference calls with your three kids spread out over the country. "It's just going to be you and me in the end." Sy would say, shutting the computer off and looking at you pensively. Wounding your arms around the love of your life, you would rest your head on his shoulder and agree, "Till death do us part."

On your 30th wedding anniversary, Sy gave you an unexpected surprise. He had been missing from the house since morning, only to send a vague text with "Pack your bags and come out in ten minutes." When you walked outside on the front porch, you were left stunned to find Sy dressed in riding gear on a super bike. "I think we need to relive our days from the time we were dating. Come on, I've planned a road trip for us." And with that, Sy had driven all the way to San Antonio for the weekend. With a hotel room on the river, Sy pampered you with all his love and the best Tex-Mex food he could find for you. You spent the day shopping and exploring, while in the night he made love to you with unbridled passion. "My better half," he had called you, kissing your hands while cradling you to his chest. When you both came back home from your trip, you had another surprise waiting for you: Your three children all under the same roof again, holding up a sign board with "Happy anniversary, mom and dad."

Noah had successfully climbed the ranks in the airforce to become Lieutenant at an age younger than when Sy was one. But it was when James, inspired by his twin, decided to join the armed forces as a field doctor, you saw Sy's chest puff in pride. "Syverson men always join the military." He had told his friends over dinner one night, soaking up the praises for his children. Adeline joined a major modelling agency that speared her career forward. She roamed around the globe, sending her old folks trinkets from the new city she was in, and one day added a picture of her and her boyfriend in the mail. Sy turned into a protective father quickly, inviting her and her man to have dinner. "I like him." Your old man had chuckled, when he had scared Adeline's boyfriend, making him blabber incoherently with nervousness. You could only watch in a haze as one day Adeline's boyfriend showed up to your house unannounced, to ask Sy for his daughter's hand in marriage. "Listen boy, Adeline is precious and if you hurt her, you know there wouldn't be anything worse than us. You don't want to be on the bad side of the Syverson men, is that clear?" You had heard Sy warn, a shiver running down your spine listening to his commanding tone, even if the threat wasn't meant for you. A few weeks later, when Adeline was in Paris, she had called home only minutes after the proposal, screaming on the phone that she said "yes." The rest of the night, Sy had you looking at Adeline's baby pictures from old photo albums. "This little bundle would be getting married soon. Can you believe that?" He had laughed, wiping the tear at the corner of his eye and throwing his arm around your shoulders when you couldn't hold onto your own tears.

The day after Adeline, Sy's little girl, was married, he threw a brunch for the newly weds and their families. James and Noah, back from their deployment in time for their sister's wedding, had introduced their own girlfriends to both of you before the ceremony. You knew Sy would never admit it, macho behavior of his never fading, but you could see his eyes glisten watching his family grow. He had tried to keep a straight face throughout the ceremony too, but he had let go of his tears when Adeline had laid her head on his shoulder during their father-daughter dance. Halfway through brunch, Sy pulled you away from the crowd and took you towards the orchard outside the country club. He held your hand while taking you to stand under the shade of a massive tree. "It's like I'm living in a dream." You admitted, looking out at the sprawling orchard, thinking about how you were a mother-in-law to someone. Sy pulled you close to him by your waist, encircling his arms around you. Gray hair on his temples and his face beginning to be marked with wrinkles and yet for you, Sy looked like he had never aged. "I know I don't tell this to you very often, but darlin' running into you, falling in love with you, building a life with you, is the best thing that could have happened to me." He kissed the top of your head, taking your face in his hands before planting a soft kiss on your lips. "I love you and thank you for everything, Sy." You whispered as the birds chirped on the branches above, a whistling breeze blew by carrying the sweet fragrance of fruits in the orchard and you stared at the brilliant blue orbs of the man who had owned your heart and soul since many years ago.

The End.

[elfwoodfae]

“Nightcall” Harrison Eo Wells x reader

Chapter-13

Author’s note: Author’s note: I actually went out of my comfort zone in this chapter, touching a few points about Eo’s past and focusing on his point of view, I hope you like it, I think there is only 2 to 3 chapters left on this story and I want to know if you all would want me to continue it or to start a new one. Please let me know. I hope you enjoy it.

Gif credits to the owner.

He woke up the next morning before you did, the faint light of the sun hitting his eyes, making him squint them instantly; you were still tangled with him, your legs intertwined together. His eyes studied your face, so peaceful, so beautiful, the events of the previous night flashed through his mind and the guilt returned as the memory of the fear in your eyes came to the forefront of his mind. He was still unsure of why you were here, here with him. He wasn’t a good man, he wasn’t good enough for you, he had hurt people, he had caused pain, destruction, chaos and still here you were, trusting him with your life, with your being like he was some sort of guardian angel. You were making him soft, doubtful, vulnerable.

He recalled the way he had so fervently told you no when you begged him to help Allen and now here he was, wondering how he could actually do it, he owed you that much. He decided that if he was going to give in and bend at your will, he would do it on his own terms. He would map out a plan, he would get his plan executed, the goal completed.

He carefully moved from in between your embrace, being careful not to wake you as he made his way out of the bed. He walked to the bathroom, freshening himself up, he splashed water on his face, looking at the man in the mirror starting back, he didn’t recognize that man. There was no hate in his eyes, for once he could look at himself and feel some kind of relief. He missed his body, he missed who he was, having his mind and his memories all to himself. You liked him like this, you didn’t even know there was more to it than met the eye. You could never find out, find out of what he had had to do to survive, you would never find out that this body, was stolen, that his memories were corrupted. He was sure you wouldn’t be able to look past that, to look behind the mask and be with a man that wasn’t real anymore, that didn’t exist. He wondered for a second if you would have liked his original body more than you liked this one. He hated the answer his brain instantly offered him, of course you would love this one better, it was the only one you knew, and the only one you would ever know. He could feel the sudden fear raise inside of him when he realized where all of this thoughts had originated from. He was scared, he was scared of losing you and why would he be scare of losing anything or anyone? Because he loved you, because he had grown to love you and to need you.

His eyes quickly darted around the room, spotting his pants as he moved towards them, looking in his right pocket for his ring. He always kept it close to him, but lately he hadn’t need it. He grabbed the chain and tangled it in his hand, walking out of the room to the safe he kept hidden on the wall, opening it before placing the ring next to the gun he kept there for emergencies.

Opening the door to his office, he started to ponder on his next move, considering all the variables and movements, he knew Barry and the team had been working on a plan to build a trap to catch the reverse flash. Those plans had been left at pause once he had stopped showing around. He needed to get out there again and make that trap happen, it was the only way he could give you what you wanted, even if it meant giving Allen what he wanted too. He needed to make sure every detail was down to perfection, he had been working on his own side of this idea long before you intersected it. He would create a speed mirage, one to fool everyone while he was at the lab with them, one to run to whatever trap they had settled and hopefully it would be enough for Joe to work off of it to start a case to plead for Henry’s freedom.

He couldn’t say he didn’t understand some of what Barry felt, he knew what it was like to miss your family, to miss the people you cared for, even if they didn’t entirely cared for you in return. Robern’s face quickly flashed through his mind, he hadn’t thought of him in a long time, he wasn’t particularly fond of him, but in a way after being far away for so long, suddenly the despise and wishes to get rid of his little brother he had felt on his years prior to getting stuck on this time were gone. He even missed the bastard.

He shook his head before resting it on his hands, trying to free himself from those memories and thoughts that no longer served him. He wasn’t going back ever, he had given that up for you, for a life by your side. He looked up at the clock, it read half past 7, he should get ready and leave for the labs. He walked over to the room, you were still sound asleep and he had to resist the temptation of getting back in the bed with you.

Once fully clothed in his usual attire he walked towards the bedroom door, he was about to open it when he felt you stirring on the bed, looking back at you lovingly as you woke up. You stared at him, taking a moment to fully get a hold of yourself before speaking.

“What time is it?” Your eyes squinted in the direction of the clock while you sat up, holding the duvet close to your chest.

“Is almost 8, I have to leave to the labs, you can stay here.” He suggested, wanting to give you some rest.

“And miss all the action? I want to go with you.” You added, trying to test the waters and make sure you both were back to normal.

“Will you wait for me?” You asked him at his lack of response to the previous statement.

He simply nodded, walking over to the bed when you started to get up, silently wrapping his arms around you, feeling the warmth of your skin that peaked out of the duvet you were holding.

“I have been thinking,” he began.

“I will do what you want me to,” he continued, marking how this is something you were pushing on him, he didn’t want to do it but he would for you.

“But we will do it on my terms. I have a plan, and you need to trust me.” He finished.

“I trust you Eo,” you added, smiling at the cute nickname you had come up with for him. He internally cringed, remembering that only his brother had called him “Eo” in his whole life and he usually did it in a mocking manner but coming off of your lips it sounded kind, gentle almost loving. Things he didn’t receive or deserve.

You arrived to the lab together, finding it empty, neither of the team members there yet. You sat around the cortex together, checking over some plans and prototypes Cisco had been working on. The elevator door opened, and the sound of heels and chattering announced that Caitlin and Cisco had arrived, you were seated far away from Eo, not really giving away any reason to raise suspicion. You wish you could tell them; share the joy of being together but you knew it was most likely a topic he wouldn’t want to discuss.

With a discreet glance in your direction Harrison cleared his throat before speaking, addressing Caitlin mainly, he informed her that he would be absent from the lab until mid day, having being offered an invitation to speak at a class in Central City University, Caitlin quickly pulled out the invitation she remembered he had asked her to keep for him, he wasn’t really planning to go but now he needed the perfect excuse to execute his plan.

You didn’t know of this event, he hadn’t mention it, your eyes looked for his discreetly and he nodded his head, offering you some peace that this was part of his work. After he left Barry arrived, the whole team was mostly seated around waiting for anything to happen, any meta-humans to appear but it seemed to be a slow day, frankly most days had been slow since the flash made his debut, keeping everyone on check.

You couldn’t help but drift back to the thoughts in your head, all of them rotating around Eobard like the Earth rotating around the Sun, in this case he was you Sun, your star, the only thing you would ever want in life. Your relationship with him was getting serious, too serious, you could feel it, in the way you knew you loved him, wondering if he loved you or at least if he was capable of loving you back. You wondered what plan was this he was working on? He hadn’t told you anything at all about it, it was probably better if you were kept in the dark.

Midday rolled around and so did him, coming back to the labs and into the cortex, commenting how entertaining and informative the lecture had been, if he said this out of truth or sarcasm you had no idea, there was a fine line between both when it came to this man. The day had remained slow and once it was nearing the afternoon you thought for sure that nothing exciting would happen at all, but soon after the satellite picked up movement near Mercury Labs, soon enough Cisco and Barry were hovering over the screen as it read the tag for reverse flash moving about. Your eyes widened in shock as Eo grabbed your hand cautiously and squeezed it fast in reassurance. How could he be in two places at the same time? What was happening? You were puzzled with curiosity, there was more to this man than what you had ever thought possible and you made a mental note to ask him about this thing later. Barry speeded around the room before Eo could scream at him to be careful, he knew Barry would follow him and try to catch him, this was the bait he had thrown for the team to continue working on the trap.

He didn’t need the tachyon enhancer he was trying to steal from Mercury Labs, but it was the perfect excuse to keep going. Once Barry had finally reached him he was about to leave, having only done all of that as a show, or at least his mirage was about to, Barry did the usual speech he liked to perform where he questioned him to no end before he replied with the same, you will never catch me or this is not over flash. This game had been going on for so long he couldn’t remember how many times those words had been uttered.

Once Barry made it back to the labs he was frantic, questioning why reverse flash would want to steal the device or when had he reappeared since he had stayed on the low for a few weeks now, seeming as he was back they decided to keep working on the trap, to finish it faster and try to catch him. He knew they had taken the bait when Barry informed him later that he wanted him to go with him to talk to Christina about lending them the prototype so they could use it to lure reverse flash out. His plan was working, it was near completion and tomorrow would prove to be a success once he managed to trap himself and use that to free Henry, hoping that this would put an end to your torment.

Everyone stayed late at the lab, working on finishing the trap while he and Barry procured the prototype, it had been a tough negotiation, Christina being very wary of himself. Once they made it back to the lab it was late enough that everyone was leaving, he said his goodnight and retreated to look for you. He found you in one of the workshops, finishing the final touches of your part before he informed you that everyone had left, he asked you to go with him, stay the night with him and you didn’t deny him, how could you if that was the moment of the day you looked forward the most.

It was a little past 10 when you walked through the doors, he got up from the chair, making his usual routine of a drink and some relaxing opera to soothe his nerves. An idea popped in your head, you wanted to take a bath and may as well offer him the chance to accompany you. Walking behind him and circling your hands around his middle your chin resting against the muscles of his impressive back, you spoke.

“Why don’t you come with me, and I will show you something nice.” You said, not wanting to give it away. He raised his eyebrows, his curiosity had been picked, he wanted to know more now.

“What would that be?” He whispered in that husky tone he usually spoke, a smirk present on his face.

“Ah ah, you will have to wait and see, while I get it ready why don’t you get me a drink?” You asked him before moving away from him and in the direction of the room, his eyes following your every movement.

Once in the master bathroom you prepared the water, filling the tub and looking around for anything that would create some sort of bubbles, this man honestly had nothing of the kind, opting for stealing his shampoo you set in motion in feeling the tub completely before stripping and walking out to find him. You found him still by the counter, his back turned to you as you walked behind him, completely naked and hugged him from behind, he turned around in your embrace, his eyes trailing up and down your naked skin as his hands moved on their own accord to your waist, moving up and down feeling your skin while he moved down to press a kiss to your neck, humming in agreement at your current state.

His kisses trailed from your neck to your jaw before his mouth devoured yours with so much intensity, like a starve man eating for the first time in the day, this was exactly what he was feeling after not being able to kiss you all day. Your hands found his chest as you pushed him back, smiling at him. Your hands moved to find his and you pulled him to you, silently asking him to follow you, he obeyed, his eyes falling to your butt once you turned around and guided him to the bathroom, once inside your turned back towards him, your hands grabbing the hem of his shirt and while your lips grazed his, you kissed him slowly, passionately, wanting to feel every inch and curve his mouth had to offer. Once his shirt was off his pants followed soon after along with his underwear, you moved to the edge of the tub touching the water before moving to sit inside, looking at him expectingly.

He moved over, getting slowly inside the tub behind you, leaning back against the wall and sighting at the relive the warmth of the water offered him, one of his hands moved flat against your torso, pushing you back to lay on him while he ran it up and down your middle, caressing softly the skin of you breast and closing his eyes in relaxation when he felt your breathing slowing down, your hand caressing his arm.

“Will you tell me more about how you did that?” You asked him, your voice sleepy.

“How I did what?” He teased you, loving to play dumb for you to push.

“Come on you know what I mean, the speedy thing.” You said, tapping his arm lightly to show him how serious you were. His eyebrows raised in amusement at your chose of words.

“I will, but not today, I’ll tell you tomorrow.” He said.

“Do you promise?” You insisted, knowing how easily he liked to avoid subjects.

“I do, why don’t you relax? Take a nap I’ve got you.” he offered.

“Okay,” you replied sleepily, your eyes felt very heavy as the weight of the day suddenly downed on you, the warm water and the dimly lit bathroom lulling you into a comfortable slumber.

“I love you Eo.” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, not that you wanted to, you loved him and you weren’t afraid or ashamed of it. He was your love, he was yours. His arms instantly tightened around you, his breath slightly faltering, his heart speeding up to what would be considered abnormal for someone like him. I love you too, he thought to himself, words he was not ready to voice, words he still struggled to wrap his head around, to understand. But the only thing he knew for sure, the only one he understood in this moment was that you were his and he was yours.

@mintchipcupcake

@yetanotherwells

@saltykidcreation

@twilightlover2007

@austarus

@harrisonwellsisdaddy

@babyswan123

@uselesssapphickitten

@lawlerek

@reallystressedhoneybee

@i-dont-care-lol

@tacowells101

@wintersire

[parkers-gal]

Tom’s mom is worry about him dating Taylor swift!reader because of her reputation. Maybe she stands up for herself or Tom defends her

hope u like this... first time writing for ts!reader so i’m a bit nervous haha. but enjoy !! <3

—

“She’s who?”

“Mom, I told you. It’s Y/N L/N.”

“I know, I know.” She hums, something that worries Tom.

He’s quite excited about finally making things official with you — not publicly, though. The two of you had gone on quite a few dates until the titles “girlfriend” and “boyfriend” were mentioned. Tom had kept it on the down low — even with his family, which was slightly bizarre with how close he is with them. Even Harry didn’t know, and though the two of you didn’t intend on keeping it that way, you felt more exclusive with the dynamic that way.

Except for right now; you’re working today, but today was the day Tom was going to tell his family about you. Today is the day they’re going to meet you, and you should be on your way right about now. Already, however, it seemed as though it wasn’t going well.

“Don’t give me that look?” He doesn’t speak rudely, but from experience.

“What ‘look’?”

“That ‘I-know-what’s-best-for-you’ look.”

Her mouth opens and closes, and then she turns to Dominic for help, but abandons the idea and turns back in Tom’s direction.

“I’m just worried she’s gonna get over you as fast as the others.”

“The ‘others?’ What the fuck, mum?”

“Watch it, movie star.” Tom’s dad, Dominic, points a finger at the boy. “She’s your mother.”

“Who’s being incredibly misogynistic to my girlfriend.”

“Tom,” She reaches for his hand, pulling him down to sit on the couch across from her armchair. “I’m just making sure this isn’t as surface level as you’re making it seem.”

“I’m only telling you the vague details! Of course it’s going to seem surface level.”

“Tom,” She eyes him, eyebrow raising. “She doesn’t have a very good reputation.”

“That’s not a funny pun, mom.”

“I’m not trying to joke around,” Her voice doesn’t falter. “From what you’re telling me, I just don’t think I’m going to like her much.”

“Well, you don’t have to like her. She’s not your girlfriend, she’s mine. And her reputation isn’t even accurate — it’s not her.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“She’s not like that!” He huffs, eyes hopeless. “She’s- she’s caring and sweet and adorable and thoughtful and considerate. She doesn’t ‘go through guys quickly’ or any of that nonsense. She’s real, and vulnerable and human. You can’t have opinions on what you don’t know to be factual.”

His parents make eye contact one more time, silently communicating. Tom holds his breath, lodging in his throat while he awaits whatever destiny is bound to be.

“Just be careful, okay?” His mother’s slightly wrinkled hand comes down softly on his knee, alerting him that everything is out of love. He’s still unsettled about the entire conversation, but he nods nonetheless.

“There’s nothing to be careful about, but okay.”

Just then, a knock sounds on the door, and Tom’s gaze is averted from his mother to the front door. He smiles at the thought of you, skating off all nerves as he stands, making his way over to the entrance.

“Hi, love.” He smiles, inviting you into his arms and into the house, kissing your forehead in content.

“Hi, baby.” You whisper back, squeezing his hand before you separate. “And you must be Mr. and Mrs. Holland.”

“Yes,” Nikki smiles, offering her hand. “It’s nice to finally… meet you.” Tom rolls his eyes at her stumble, but glides on from it. “Tom was just telling us about… you.”

Your smile is tight-lipped while you sit across from her. Tom’s hand finds a place on your thigh, protectively and lovingly.

“I hope it was all good things.” You attempt to lighten the tension, and forced laughter fills the room before it grows awkwardly quiet.

“Of course, dear.” She smiles politely before taking the chance. “I just want to know what you… intend to do with Tom.”

“You mean my intentions?”

“Yes,” she nods. “I’d hate for him to be just another pawn for a breakup song.” She laughs at herself, seemingly making a joke. Only Dominic laughs. You blink, in bewilderment and offense. Your eyes turn to Tom, and he’s close to blowing his fuse.

“I don’t date just to write songs about them.” Your voice is crisp, sharp, and her laughter is cut short in surprise at your tone.

“Oh, of course dear, I know. Just poking fun at your reputation.”

“That’s funny, I don’t remember my sixth studio album being about how much people judge my life.”

Nikki gasps, and Tom’s hand squeezes your thigh a little tighter.

“Of course not. I’m sorry if I've offended you in any way.”

“Mum, you’ve done a lot more than just offend her. Even when she’s not in the room, you’re picking apart her dating life as if those experiences were shallow.”

“Tom,” she speaks between clenched teeth, eyes motioning towards you. “I’d really not like to discuss this right now.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” You stand, “I hope whatever Tom told you, you realize there’s a lot more to me than my past relationships, and that I’m very serious about mine with Tom.”

With sympathetic glances and guilty expressions, you lead the both of you out into the driveway, leaving his parents. You’re debating if you should’ve walked out like the way you did, but ultimately, you decide it’s better to continue that encounter another time, when everyone’s cooled off and had time to think.

“Fuck,” Tom’s groans, pulling you into his chest, hugging you tightly, protectively, as if he’d failed as a boyfriend. “I’m sorry. That was- that was awful and you don’t deserve that. I’m-”

You shush him, calming fingers rubbing his back. “‘S alright. Things won’t be like that forever.”

“I hope not.”

“Trust me,” His head lays in your hands. “We’ll get what we deserve.”

[raionmimi]

I think the first thing I wanna talk about Medb is that for as much as some people lovingly or disdainfully call her the thot queen... she really doesn’t really do much thottin? You could list of every character that is mega in love with Guda, the characters that flirt/sexualize/start relationships with other characters, and the characters who blab about how much they love men/women in general... there are a lot more characters, many of who are men, who are much more aggressively sexual than Medb.

In nearly every singularity, there is a male character who will gush about Mash’s sexy hot bod or whatever hot garbage, yet Medb has never actually mentioned being particularly attracted to anyone off the top of my head. She just says that she likes the idea of powerful people being attracted to her and people being at her will and dislikes people who would try to control her, which many men did try to do with her. Plus, a lot of her voice lines is asking you “What do you think of me?” not to flirt, but she wants validation. She does not see you as a “good looking brave” whatsoever, but she still values your opinion of her as she sees you as a trustworthy person. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t even admit her insecurities to you when she hates being seen as weak.

And even though summer servants are notorious for randomly being extremely in love with you with a summer fling kinda passion to get you to roll for them, she just lightly flirts but doesn’t really think much about you. She still is concentrated on herself and her hot girl summer. I mean, of all the occupations she decides on in the summer event, she chooses being an idol, something that is specifically all about being loved but fans are pretty much not allowed to get close to idols as it’s lowkey taboo. She doesn’t even try to be lovey dovey or have a fling with any male character on the beach, even Cú who she literally summons to play volleyball with her. She has rarely talked to any guys in this entire series at all despite her being predominantly being into men. 

I think what most people gloss over is that Medb, despite having a flirty personality that’s never really directed at anyone in particular, has always kept a distance between her and every character she’s encountered. Yes, even the Cu’s. Why else would her ideal Cu be one that is not madly in love with her, when she has so many powers that deal with literally charming people? Like did no one notice she was never upset that he was neutral to her?? She absolutely loves how much Cú doesn’t like her (and in her POV, ppl wanting her leads to them wanting to control her), for as much as she hates that he was Crunkofart’s weapon of mass destruction (which is the only reason she hates him, nothing personnel, dog), she genuinely thinks extremely high of him that she believes he’s a TRUE king. If she really wanted him to love her, she’d drown that bitch in red mead or charm him like any other sucker, but she doesn’t. She’s p much doing what most female characters do to Guda and likes him for the basic kindness he gave her when they were alive, but unlike most female characters, she also does not want him to be in love with her becuase from her perspective, that’s probably one quick way to getting hurt. She has had banters, discussions and debates, and casual conversations with Alter and Lancer, but she’s never really made a genuine pass. She might express interest in him more due to familiarity and takes what he says into consideration more than others, but she still a bit closed off from him. 

Then there’s her thing with Fergus, and she also isn’t particularly into him. She has sex with him, but she kind of doesn’t really flirt with him? She definitely trusts him more than the average person, that she’s cool with him being honest if he doesn’t like what she’s doing. He cares a lot about her as a person and looks over her more than he’s sexually attracted to her. We do not actually know what she’s privately talked to him about, but he seems pretty in-tune to how she’s feeling and knows her better than anyone. He’s just also very aware that Medb is very free spirited and lets her do her own thing. They actually both turned down each other’s invitation to sleep together in America, which I thought was really funny. But yeah! Fergus has aggressively flirted with ppl or talked about how much he loves women (to the point that even Proto Cu and Scathatch reference this about him), whereas Medb does not.

The one thing Medb has done is become somewhat open to having female friends. She’s portrayed as the type of friend that complains yet will do things when asked, as well as looking out for others despite being “the selfish one.” Sei mentions that Medb did her nail art depsite grumbling about it. Medb also gets Tomoe to come out of her shell and keeps her from being a shut in. In the Prisma event, she had asked the magical girls to join her (Helena was the closest to being Medb’s first friend in the series) and her intentions were always to benefit everyone, even though she, a warrior queen, was clearly the only powerful fighter and coulda just slaughtered everyone. She befriends some of the widow characters, including Tomoe, Boudica, etc and gets them to relax at the spa. Medb does a lot for her friends, which I feel can benefit her as having an emotional support group, which she sorely needs more than any relationship imo. As much as I love romance and funny ship art, I would much rather like seeing her able to learn to trust people and connect with others

Anyways, I just think it’s incredibly strange that just having the background knowledge of her lore, she rarely does anything remotely sexual. Like she’s definitely has said she’s horny once and then whipped her Celtic warriors, but like... that’s more her libido and utilizing sex as a coping mechanism and release of tension? Also it’s not like she’s disgusted or have a lack of interest in romance, she just doesn’t have much healthy experience in being genuinely loved compared to Fergus who loves his wife most of all. She’s just way too guarded as a person, and I feel like it gets ignored or forgotten all the time

So what I’m saying is: Medb is a sex positive asexual with a high libido

happy ace awareness week

[girlactionfigure]

There's something I need to get off my chest.

I'm an Ultra-Orthodox, Chassidic, Hareidi Jew. I live in Jerusalem, in an area that is exclusively Ultra-Orthodox Hareidi for street after street, suburb after suburb, for miles and miles. In all of these neighborhoods where the roads are blocked off and no cars drive on Shabbos, each black-hat-wearing family has many many children and literally no TV’s. I personally only ever wear black and white clothes, my wife only dresses in Chassidic levels of tznius (modesty), and my boys and girls all attend mainstream Hareidi Chassidic schools where the main language is Yiddish. My kids don’t and never will have smartphones, nor have they ever been on the internet at all. Period. They don’t know what social media is and they’ve never seen a movie — not even Disney animation. 

Having lived exclusively immersed in this culture for the last 21 years, I think I'm sufficiently qualified and well-researched enough to state that the consistent depiction of Hareidim and Torah Judaism by mainstream media, from Netflix to the daily news, is somewhere between delusion, slander and the literal equivalent of racism. If you consider yourself less closed-minded than how you imagine we Hareidim to be, then permit me to share a few personal details about my family, and other families in our neighborhood, to see how well your mental narrative matches up to reality:

- Besides learning Torah each day, most of the men in our neighborhood work full or part-time.

- Many women in our area work. Some even manage their own business or company. These are not special or “liberated” women — it’s so normal here it’s not even a discussion point.

- My wife is a full-time mother by choice, who despite attending an Ivy League College,  finds it a profound and meaningful thing to dedicate her life to. If she didn’t, she’d go get a job. Mind you, she also attends Torah classes each week, works out with both a female fitness coach (who’s gay) and a frum Pilates instructor, writes and edits articles for a couple global websites and magazines, and personally mentors a number of women. None of this is seen as unusual. 

- Kids in our community go to Torah schools where they learn (surprise!) Torah. They are fluent in three languages from a young age and the boys even read and understand a fourth (Aramaic). All the kids learn grammar, math and science. Weekly after-school activities have included music (violin, drums, piano), Tae Kwon Do, swimming, art, woodworking and robotics. The girls' school teaches tools of emotional intelligence. The principal of the boys' school doesn't hesitate to refer to kids to OT if needed. I practice meditation with my children multiple times each week. None of our kids think the world is literally 6,000 years old. They devour books about science and think it’s cool. They know dinosaurs existed and don’t find that existentially threatening. They have a telescope with which they love to watch the stars. 

- The women in my family (like the men) only dress modestly according to Hareidi standards. The girls don't find this burdensome or oppressive. Period. They aren't taught that beauty is bad. They're certainly not taught to hate their bodies, God forbid. Each morning when they get dressed, they are as happily into their own fashion and looking pretty as any secular girl is. They just have a different sense of fashion than secular culture dictates. (Unfortunately for me,  it's no cheaper.)

- The local Hareidi rabbis we receive guidance from are deep, warm, sensitive, supportive and emotionally intelligent. If they weren’t, we wouldn’t go to them.

- My boys assume they will grow up to learn Torah, as much as they want to, and then when they’re ready, get a good job or learn a profession to support whatever lifestyle they choose. My girls assume they’ll be wives and mothers (which they can’t wait for) but they're also warmly encouraged to train in whatever other profession they desire. (My 9-year-old daughter, chatting with her friend in the living room, just commented, "I want to be a mother and a teacher and an artist." Her friend replied, "I'm going to be a ballet teacher.") All options are on the table, and their future seems bright.

- We love living in modern Israel, feel proud and blessed to be here, and frequently count and celebrate its blessings. Everyone in my area votes. Sometimes not even for Hareidi parties. I pay taxes. (And they’re expensive!)

- As a Hareidi person, I’m glad we have Hareidi representation in the government — though I don’t always love or approve of how the Hareidi politicians act, or what they choose to represent. For the record, I'm equally dubious about secular politicians, as well. 

- While I don't spend much time in Tel Aviv, I do have a few close Hareidi entrepreneur friends who have founded high-tech start-ups there, and are — Boruch Hashem! — doing very well.   

- We don’t hate all non-religious people. Our kids don’t throw stones at passing cars on Shabbos. I doubt they even know anyone who would do that or think that it’s ok. We frequently talk about the Torah value of caring for and being compassionate towards everyone. As a family, we proactively try to find ways to judge others favorably (even those people who throw stones at passing cars on Shabbos.)

- We invite all manner of religious and secular Jews to join our Shabbos meals each week and the kids are open, happy, and confident to welcome everyone. (No, we're not Chabad.) One of the many reasons for having such guests at our table is to teach the kids this lesson.

- While we would technically be classified as right-wing and we don’t at all buy the modern “Palestinian” narrative, we certainly don’t hate all Arabs, nor do we have any desire to expel them all from the land. We warmly welcome anyone seeking to dwell here with us in peace and we are pained and saddened to see the suffering and loss of lives of all innocent Arab families and children — as would any decent human being.

- Of the few local families I know whose kids no longer identify as religious, none at all chose to disown their kids. The very thought, in such lovingly family-dedicated communities, is hard to imagine. I'm not saying it doesn't happen, I'm just saying it's not as common as it's made out. Rather, these families have tirelessly, profoundly, compassionately committed to maintaining any connection with their children, and to emphasize that, no matter what, family is the most important thing. Because it is.

- We aren't just living our life blindly, dogmatically following empty religious rules; rather, we are frequently engaged with, exploring and discussing Torah's richness, depth and meaning. Our kids honestly love learning Torah, praying and doing mitzvos. They’re visibly excited about Shabbos and festivals. This lifestyle is in no way oppressive or burdensome for them. If you suggested to them it was, they’d laugh and think you were crazy.  

- We Hareidim are normal people: we laugh, we cry, we buy too much Ikea furniture, and we struggle with all of life's daily ups and downs, just like the rest of you. Some of our communities are more healthy and balanced, some are less so; some of our people are warmer, nicer and more open, some are more closed, dogmatic and judgmental; some of our leaders are noble and upstanding, and some are quite frankly idiots…JUST LIKE ANY SECULAR NEIGHBORHOOD IN THE WORLD TOO. But having grown up living a secular lifestyle myself, and today being Hareidi-by-choice, I can testify that in these communities there is generally a greater and more tangible sense of well-being, warmth, tranquility, connection and meaning. We love and feel blessed to be living this life and wouldn’t want any other.

If this description of Hareidi life is hard to swallow, be careful not to push back with the often-used defenses like: "Well, you're just an exception to the rule...", "You're just American Hareidim", "You're baalei teshuvah", "Well, I know a bunch of Haredim that aren't like that at all"....because the truth is, while there might be many Hareidim who aren't like what I described above, it's still an accurate description of literally hundreds of thousands of Hareidim in Israel and the US — a decent portion of all Hareidim in the world. Which is my very point — how come you never see this significant Hareidi demographic represented in the media, television series, or the news? How come we mostly see the darkest and most problematic cliches instead? 

And finally, if all the facts I've listed above about our communities are hard for you to accept as true, then perhaps the image you have in your head about Hareidim is less based on facts and reality and more based on stereotypes, fear, hate, and discrimination — like any other form of prejudice in the world. 

Care to prove me wrong? Well, you're welcome to come argue it out with me and my family at our Shabbos table on Friday night. It would be a joy and honor to have you. 

Doniel Katz

[fandomnetworks]

MILK RUN

PART 1

Summary: As you’re getting used to your new apartment, our favorite DEA agents are assigned to check up on you from time to time. Only, one of the DEA agents is nicer than the other. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word Count: 2K

Carrillo knocked on the open door that led into your brother's office, the president's office. He stepped in without pausing for a reply, you lingering behind him.

Your brother sat behind his desk while two towering men hovered over him. One of them was a tall white man with a mustache, his left hand running through his air. The other man was tanner; a distinct mustache also cemented on top of his upper lip. The three seemed to be entertained with papers across the desk.

All three gazed towards the door. First, they saw Carrillo, his broad body obstructing your view. But then you pushed to the side, "Y/n!" Cesar stood up and dumped the papers that were in his hands. He passed Carrillo and gave you a lasting hug. In return, you hugged him but not as lovingly, irritated at him since he had you caged in like a bird.

Once he let go, he glanced back at both men who were staring at your interactions, "Muchahos, this is my sister, Y/n." Cesar made his way to his desk.

Both men acquainted themselves as Steve Murphy and Javier Peña. You noted that both men were handsome, but Steve had a band occupying his left ring finger.

"Hi," You timidly smiled at both men, feeling all eyes on you, "can I talk to you?" You directed Cesar, not knowing what else to say.

"First, I need to settle some things," He motioned for the four of you to take a seat in front of his desk.

Once settled, Cesar began his speech, "As we all know, Escobar's men have been abducting high ranking women for a while now. My sister is one of them." You rolled your eyes and achieved a chuckle from Murphy. "But now that Escobar is in prison, I think it time to loosen the chains."

You liked where this was going, "Wait, you're saying I ca-"

Your brother lifted his hand, trying to silence you, "I have made some arrangements, and with an empty apartment in the same building as these men. Noonan agreed that the two of you" he looked at the DEA agents, "should check up on Y/n from time to time."

His words were music to your ears.

Freedom.

Freedom to an extent, but it was still freedom.

Some rules were laid out, but it was nothing you couldn't manage. One of the main things that stuck out was that you couldn't go out in the evening unless Peña or Murphy took you or one of Carrillo's men.

Standing up, you went over to your brother's desk and hugged him, a little more festive than when you had first entered, whispering a heartfelt thank you.

In the interim, the other men stood up and discussed among themselves while you wrapped up your conversation with Cesar.

It had been a week since you relocated into the new apartment. It took approximately three full days to unpack and furnish your new home. Steve had been the only one to come check up on you every night before he went to his apartment to Connie. Connie had become a close friend of yours. Multiple times a day, you would both visit each others' apartments. The two of you would chat about life back in America, what you missed the most, and really just talking about anything. Her adoptive daughter, Olivia, had taken a liking to you as well; she'd give you her toys whenever you'd go over.

Tonight you knew for a fact that Connie and Steve were going out on a date, and Steve wouldn't be doing his daily routine to come check up on you.

You hadn't seen Peña since you last visited your brother, and you didn't expect him to be coming. You and Connie had gone earlier to get some sweet bread, but as the night rolled in, you noted there was no milk to go alongside.

No one would notice you left your house at 8, right?

You picked up your purse and keys and walked out of the building, only going to the convenience store down the store. You'd grab milk and some eggs for tomorrow's breakfast, and slip back into your apartment as if nothing happened.

You passed by a few stores and restaurants in order to reach the convenience store.

----

Javier Peña sat at a bar, drinking away his thoughts, a beautiful woman on his right. He and she knew well how the night would end. She would be in his bed by midnight and be gone before sunrise. He should be ashamed of these habits, but in reality, he found comfort when there were women in his bed. For just those few hours, there was nothing but the lucky lady and him.

Peña happened to look up towards the bar's entrance, see your face passing by, and your hair flowing behind you. He didn't think much as he stood up in a fury. He and Murphy did not just spend a whole week trying to keep you safe, only for you to break one of the only rules your brother put in place.

Peña laid some money on the bar and walked off, apologizing to the woman for the abrupt absence.

He silently followed behind you, making sure to make no noise. He noticed you were walking with a light step to your feet. The creamy silk blouse that wrapped around your back was loose as it swayed with the soft wind of the night. He was gaining ground, and now he was just a few feet behind you. You were oblivious to what was happening behind you, which only made Peña even more enraged.

He was three feet away...then two...he was just inches away now.

----

You felt someone push your body up against the brick wall, your face being slapped onto it, and your hand being twisted behind your back. A sharp yelp left your lips, and your heart didn't know how to handle the adrenaline. It was beating as fast as it ever had, and you felt like it would collapse at any minute.

"What are you doing out?" A gruff voice asked as he leaned against you. His face near your ear, giving you goosebumps. You could smell alcohol in his words.

You recognized the manly voice but from where?

"Answer." He tighten his grip on your forearm, waiting for a reply.

Then it hit you, "Peña?" You tried turning to look at his face, but only until he loosened his grip could you entirely turn and look at the man. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" You shoved his chest to try and get some space between the two of you.

He was quiet, waiting for your reply to his previous question. His nostrils flared and his eyes fixated on you/ 

You huffed and walked away, not wanting to deal with the DEA agent.

Peña followed you silently, not uttering another word.

You passed a few more stores before reaching the desired one and walked in, Peña a few feet away. Going straight towards the refrigerators at the end of the store, you went to open the door, but Peña beat you to it. His body was brushing up against yours as he grabbed the handle, opening it for you.

"Uh, thank you." You reached for the milk, turned behind, and realized how much closer he was then you expected.

Due to the nervousness you felt being watched by Peña so closely, you forgot about the eggs and went straight to pay. You placed the pint of milk on the counter and pulled your purse towards you in order to pay but were surprised to see Peña pull his wallet faster and handed the change to the elderly lady.

"Mira que bonita pareja! (Look, what a lovely couple!)" The lady said, handing Peña the change.

"No seño, ni me gusta. (No ma'am, I don't even like him)" You tried laughing the awkwardness off and looked at Peña to see an emotionless stare looking back at you. He picked up the carton and thanked her before walking back to the apartment.

During the walk, Peña led in front of you, waiting for you often when your short steps couldn't catch up to his long strides. The walk was so silent; you swear you could hear the faint music of a party that was going on, on the other side of town.

In a few short minutes, you were back in the building and heading up the stairs. You expected Peña to depart to his apartment next to yours or go back to whatever hellhole he climbed out of. But to your astonishment, he remained behind you as you fumbled with the keys until you obtained the right one.

Once inside, Peña set the milk on the counter and looked at you. "You went out for some fucking milk?" He bombarded, letting what he had inside out. "You risked your life for fucking milk?" His long steps reached you, where you still stood at the doorway.

"Fuck off." You stepped to the side and walked into the kitchen.

"Y/n!" He grabbed your forearm for the second time that night. You hated to admit it, but his cologne alongside the sweat he had accumulated throughout the day gave off the best odor you have ever smelled your whole life. If it weren't for how rude he was, you would have leaned in closer to get a better smell.

You took a second to question your thoughts. You just admitted to yourself you would smell Peña. What the fuck were you? A dog? Maybe you should ask Carrillo to formally invite you to work alongside the canines during a raid.

Plus, you would not be thinking about him like that.

"Are you even listening to me?" You jogged your train of thought back to the present and saw a red-faced Peña standing in front of you.

"I wanted milk, sorry." Your sarcastic tone did not help ease Peña's anger. "Why the hell do you care so much, anyway?" Going to one of the cabinet's you got a cup and filled it with the milk.

He gave a heavy sigh and began to walk towards the door, "Just don't go out again, ok?"

You offered him a tight grin and watched his body retreat towards the door.

Just as he was about to leave, a voicemail on the receiver was left,

"Listen, little girl, next time you leave me waiting like you did tonight, I will kill you. Do you understand? I will fucking kill you."

You closed your eyes shut, hoping in God's name Peña was too far to overhear it.

"Who the fuck is that?" Peña came striding into the room again, his face fixated on anger, his jaw tighten as he waited for a reply. His eyes were tired but thoroughly scanning your face for any sign of distress or upsetness.

You opened your eyes and made eye contact with Peña, but soon looked down shamefully. You twirled the cup of milk in your hands, "He's someone I used to go to school with, back in la prepa. I thought I'd give him a second chance." You went digging inside the paper bag that contained the sweet bread. "Turns out, he's still a prick." You looked up to see his eyes trained on you, hoping you'd elaborate. 

For a few seconds, the two of you just stared at each other, not knowing what to say.

Breaking the silence, his first question was, "Does he know where you live?" His voice was laced with less anger this time.

"He knows where my last apartment was. I highly doubt he knows I'm here now."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" There he goes, raising his voice for the millionth time that night.

"He's a nobody, that's why. He's just doing it for attention. We met up a few days ago, but I realized he's the same guy as before. He hasn't changed. When he asked me on another date, I felt bad to say no, so I agreed. But I never planned to go." You took your bread and milk in your hands and walked towards the dining table. "I guess I pushed the wrong buttons."

PART 3

lmk if you want to be added to the list:

 luvzoria

[fuchsiagrasshopper]

Contending the Flame XII

Author’s note: I’m back after this chapter kicking my butt, I must have rewritten it three times until I was satisfied because it introduces many characters from the show and I wanted to get them just right. Not sure I’m happy with the result still, but yep, here it is. Enjoy lovelies!

Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word count: 5347

Warnings: The usual

King Harald's hall smelled like a fishmonger's home, and it was as inviting as a slave trader's ship. Sitting down to a meal with the man, Ivar tried to contain his displeasure at being there. It had been on Hvitserk's face since their ships had treaded through the carcasses of dead whales in the bay. Both the brothers managed to set aside their poor manners when they came face-to-face with Finehair, but it lingered in the backs of their minds, just like the bad smell.

Ivar was able to ignore the pleasantries and idle chatter that Harald was currently speaking. He was much more preoccupied with the dark-haired Queen on the throne adjacent to the King. Astrid, Lagertha's shieldmaiden and bed warmer, was sipping from her horn of mead while giving Harald loving looks. They were practiced and disingenuous, but they did not explain how she came to be here. Clearly not of her free will, but Harald was too besotted to notice her veiled contempt.

To Ivar's left sat Freydis, introduced as his personal thrall. He had gauged for any sort of inkling of familiarity to pass between her and Harald, but alas he only seemed to have eyes for his new Queen. Freydis was too cunning to give away anything on her part, and that left Ivar wondering if she was as great a deceiver as Loki, or that she hadn't been sent by Finehair to begin with.

That put his mind back on Lagertha and Kattegat. She must have been the one to send in a spy. She only cared for Bjorn, and she wanted all of the other sons of Ragnar to perish just like their mother. That was how he saw it anyhow, but he knew his brothers would disagree. They weren't as quick to take up arms against Ragnar's first wife as he was, and that made him feel bitterly alone.

Freydis continued to shower him with compliments and attention, and he lent into the treatment. He needed to keep her close until it was discovered who she was working with, but he was also missing you. She was a strange substitute for your place, holding none of the similarities that had endeared you to him. He was still frustrated by you revealing your name to Heahmund as well, and perhaps this was his way of acting out against you. It was a petty move considering you weren't even there to witness this ongoing dance with Freydis.

"If you were to help me conquer Kattegat," Harald said, catching Ivar's attention. "Would one of you want to be King?"

Hvitserk sent Ivar a look as if to say 'It's a trap'. Harald was looking for humble allies who wouldn't challenge his bid to be King of all Norway. He must not have understood the sons of Ragnar, or he was coming from a place that underestimated them.

"It is our home," Ivar replied vaguely.

"Of course, I understand your attachment. Your father was King before, and then your Queen mother. I respect your family, but Kattegat is also too important a location for trade. I would need it to fuel my war and feed my army. Whoever rules Kattegat must accept that his lead is to benefit me, a mutual working relationship."

"I'm sure that could be arranged," said Hvitserk.

Ivar nodded. "We would be accommodating to your plight."

"And what of Lagertha there now? Perhaps she could make me a better offer?"

If Harald had any sense, he would have noticed his Queen's false looks of adoration had ceased at the mention of Kattegat's current ruler. Ivar gave a smirk that was meant for Astrid.

"If she had anything to offer, she would have already done so," He said, reaching for more mead. "Our army has the numbers. Lagertha will die. She is a usurper and coward."

Astrid had to hide her foul look when Harald took her hand in his, but even through her blank stare could Ivar feel her loathing. Harald continued to stroke her fingers as he spoke. "And how will she die? I do not doubt your heart or courage Ivar, but Lagertha is a shieldmaiden worthy of Valhalla. You cannot achieve a victory hand-to-hand."

Freydis grabbed his hand beneath the table, and he wanted to smack it away. The frustration he felt at himself for not being able to challenge his mother's killer in single combat would always be his greatest failure. He could outwit the legendary shieldmaiden, but at the time of her death, he feared he would not be satisfied.

"I have my own way of getting to Lagertha, but first we need your answer. Will you fight alongside the sons of Ragnar?"

"I count only two of you," Astrid piped up. "Are the sons of Ragnar not of one mind? Where are Bjorn and Ubbe?"

Harald planted an obnoxious kiss on Astrid's mouth before she could turn. "My beautiful wife raises a good question. Where are your brothers?"

"Bjorn is our half-brother," Hvitserk said with a shrug, "And his intentions will always align with his mother."

"And Ubbe is a traitor. He sailed with a handful of our warriors to Kattegat," Ivar said, glad for the lie. His mind slipped to you for a moment, but he shook it away. He had refused to bring you here in person, but even in thought, it was dangerous. You were a distraction that could cause him to make a mistake or have poor judgement, through no fault of your own.

"Then I'm certain Lagertha will be anticipating our assault," Harald said with a frown.

"But she won't have an idea as to when. She knows we will bring the fight to her, but we have the advantage of time," Ivar pointed out, and he could feel Hvitserk's questioning look.

Harald let out a laugh. "You remind me of why I fought alongside your father. I cannot refuse the offer to join with the sons of Ragnar and their army now. Let us share a horn and thank the Gods we have this opportunity to become Kings."

The men each took a drink from Harald's own horn, and Ivar could feel Astrid's eyes following it as it was passed around the table. She was more cunning than he would have ever accredited her to be, which made her a threat to their plans moving forward.

"Tonight you shall sleep in my hall, and tomorrow we can discuss plans for our army."

'Our army'. He certainly wasted no time in claiming their men for his own. Ivar smiled through his irritation. Harald was watching for his reaction. He wasn't so distracted by his new Queen to have lost all sense when it came to a possible enemy.

"We'll take you up on that offer," Hvitserk piped up after the stretch of silence had grown uncomfortable.

"I will have my thralls prepare a room."

Ivar turned to Freydis. "You will assist them."

"Of course, Ivar." She stroked her hand lovingly down his arm.

The sensation shot a shiver down his spine, a reaction he couldn't help. He hated to think he was as weak-willed as his brothers when it came to blonde thralls, but his wavering resolve was laughing at him.

The table began to disband with Harald dragging the unfortunate Astrid back to his room. Ivar and Hvitserk returned outside and began to walk through the streets of Vestfold to return to their men. Hvitserk's mind was buzzing, and Ivar knew his brother had a word or two he wanted to get in.

"We can't go to war against Kattegat with Harald," He started at the moment they were alone. "We'd be betraying our own people, and Ubbe is there with our warriors."

"I know that."

Hvitserk didn't like how short of an answer he gave. "And (Y/N)'s there too. Have you forgotten that?"

"Of course I haven't," Ivar barked back. "But Lagertha is still my enemy, even if you've forgotten that. I can't allow her to live."

"She's my enemy too, brother. I know you loved mother, more than I did. But you also have to know she loved you more than any of us. If you say she didn't then you're either not as smart as I thought, or you're in denial."

Ivar knew it to be true. He knew it all too well when growing up. Ubbe and Hvitserk were closer in age and always together, leaving him alone. All he had to do was let out one small cry and mother would forget about Sigurd, the brother he should have been close to. It was something he exploited at the expense of the relationships with all of his brothers. He had a lot to make up for.

"If we can find a way to unseat Lagertha from the throne, then there would be no cause to go to war."

Hvitserk halted in his tracks as they made it to the docks. The boards were stained red and slick with the blood and oil from whales. Many of Harald's fishermen couldn't be bothered to spare the sons a second glance. They were preoccupied with loading their ships, huffing and puffing through the stink in the air that was not so foul out in the open.

"Please tell me you have a plan to do that," Hvitserk said in a hushed voice that was almost lost to the wind.

Ivar smirked back. "I didn't bring the Bishop along just to annoy you. We just have to get him to Kattegat to kill Lagertha before our army can arrive."

"You're willing to place all our hopes on that Christian?"

"He would do it for his freedom. What's one more dead heathen to him other than another purified soul gone from this earth?" Ivar said confidently. "Yes, brother, I am as certain he will do this as I am that Lagertha is the one to have sent Freydis to me."

Hvitserk was about to comment but was interrupted by an approaching presence that commanded the attention of the crowd. The previously busy workers stopped to part for her, but she was not flattered by the gesture. She marched with purpose, straight towards them, and Ivar gave a half bow in mocking as she arrived.

"Your majesty," He teased. "Not come to plead for mercy on Lagertha's behalf I hope. I have none."

Astrid's look was as dark as her hair, but she set aside her grievances to settle whatever she had come for. "No, Ivar. I have come in the hopes to make a deal with you."

"Really," He said, airing out his skepticism. "What do you want?"

She stepped closer, almost in a threatening display that had Hvitserk reaching for his knife. His concern wasn't unwarranted, as she was a shieldmaiden to Lagertha. Astrid eased her intensity while placing her hands up to signify no harm. "I want you to smuggle me back to Kattegat."

Both Ivar and Hvitserk shared a laugh, but she did not falter. She must be more miserable with Harald than Ivar had gleaned, but that wasn't his concern. "Why would we do that? There's great risk involved for us. Harald is obviously quite taken with you, and we'd be making an enemy of him because you have reservations about sharing his bed."

"I have information for you, regarding that woman by your side, the thrall."

Ivar's back straightened and he looked to Hvitserk with curiosity. This was the answer they had been searching for. "What do you know of Freydis?"

Astrid smirked. "She's a spy, but I'm sure you've already gathered that. I won't say anything more out here. Harald still doesn't trust me enough to not have me followed, and I won't give up what I know without a guarantee that you'll give me what I want."

"When then?" Hvitserk asked and he sounded as impatient as Ivar felt.

"Tonight, after Harald passes out from too much meat and drink. Make sure that thrall of yours is kept occupied as well. I shouldn't have to tell you not to trust a spy, but you're men, and I've seen the way you look at her," Astrid remarked while giving Ivar a pointed look. "Don't let me down sons of Ragnar. Your father lost many things towards his end, but never his integrity. I suspect the gods instilled the same in you."

Astrid departed and a group of guards followed after at a distance. It appeared she was correct about her limited freedom, and after saying much, Ivar wondered what else she was right about. She had given them much to think on at any rate, and he tried not to feel slighted at the comment about his apparent weakness for Freydis' beauty.

"Can we trust her?" Hvitserk asked at his side. They both took a seat on the ledge of the longship that had carried them in earlier that same day.

"She's desperate to return to Lagertha, and she knew Freydis was a spy without us feeding her that information. We'll have to hear her out first, but I suspect she's being honest about this."

"But not about her intentions once she's back in Kattegat," said Hvitserk. "Harald is being played by us and his Queen. Guess he isn't about to be King of all Norway any time soon."

"Thank the gods for that. I want to be in faraway lands when that happens," Ivar said with a smirk as his brother broke into a laugh.

"Then I'm coming with you. You'd be lost without me."

"I would," Ivar admitted, and it had a sobering effect on Hvitserk, who grew quiet beside him.

Truly, he didn't know where his fate would take him, but he knew it would be better if his brother was at his side. And you as well. Ivar closed his eyes and recalled your face, your laugh, and your kiss. You would be a free woman by now, and he hoped you wouldn't be too cross with him about that little stunt next time you met. He wanted to see you this very moment, but the distance made that impossible. For now, he would have to rely on his memories and hope that Niorun would bless him with dreams of you.

ooOOoo

You were alone again. This was nothing new since arriving in Kattegat. You wish you could say you knew more about the city, but all you had seen was the four walls of Audhild's cabin. She had left to take another trip into the market, and you had come close to begging her to take you with her. It seemed she and Ubbe were of the same mindset when it came to keeping you out of trouble, and you had no doubt it was Ivar's doing. Even an ocean away he was still in charge of your life and it was as endearing as it was infuriating.

The first thing Audhild had done for you was provide you with new clothes. The loose-fitted secondhand frocks no longer befitted your station as a free woman. You were given wool leggings and tunics, along with a belt that cinched around your waist. Ladies didn't wear trousers back in England, and it was taking getting used to. You often found yourself tugging and adjusting at the fabric, all while Audhild would shoot you queer looks.

As thanks for her setting you up with new garments, you would cook the meals for you both. It was a favor to both of you really, because, after the first night of eating her dry bread and burnt fish, you didn't think your stomach could handle the pain. You had even managed to learn how to properly butcher a rabbit, something you had never eaten back home.

Ubbe would pop around from time to time to see you, as well as keeping you both informed about the ongoing situation with Lagertha. For now the ruling Queen was content to let Ubbe stay among the people, though according to him she never passed up a chance to bring up questions about Ivar. That let him know her guard was still up, and she did not yet trust the elder son of Ragnar.

While you were glad for the updates, you couldn't shake the wavering disappointment about your newfound freedom. All of your knowledge about the people of Kattegat came from the words of Ubbe or your host, and you hadn't even met Ubbe's wife yet. So far being a free woman didn't feel any different than enslavement, and the growing loneliness was what pressed you to venture out on your own from the cabin.

You waited enough time to be sure Audhild hadn't turned back on her way into town before throwing on a pair of fur-lined boots and overcoat. You had no plan on where you were going, only that you wanted to see something of this new land that wasn't the inside of Audhild's cabin. England was all flat plains and rolling green hills, but Norway was jagged mountains and dark forests with cold rushing rivers. It had never crossed your mind that you would be interested in seeing new lands, probably because as a nun your only travels would have been to other cities and villages across England tending to the sick and spreading the word of God.

You headed out with Ivar's knife tucked into your belt and began to take the path eastward. You knew west would take you the way towards Kattegat, that was where Audhild had gone. As tempted as you were to see the market, you knew it could land you into trouble to meet more of the Northmen while alone for the first time. Your only mission today was to better acquaint yourself with the land.

The breeze felt wonderful on your face, and you had forgotten the taste of breathing fresh air. It was earthy and damp here, not like the iron and smoke of York. The bit of frost that was on the ground crunched beneath your boots. Winter came earlier this far north. You could see it in the grey of the sky that spelled snow. You hoped Ivar and Hvitserk would return before the waters froze over and that they would be bringing peace with them. Absurd! Letting out a breathy laugh, you remembered fondly that Ivar wasn't a peaceful being.

You missed him. At night after Audhild was snoring across the cabin, you would lie awake and stare at the ceiling, thinking of him. You didn’t understand what it meant, but your heart raced and your body grew restless at the mere thought of him. There was so much more that needed to be shared, and you were trying to compile everything in your mind so you would be ready for his return. You wouldn't call it love, not yet, but you knew you held affection for him and that put you at odds with your vows and God. In the eyes of the church, you were still a nun, though you hadn't thought of yourself as such for a while now. You still loved God, but you no longer wanted to be his bride.

"Oh!" You gasped in surprise when you realized you were somewhere new.

Your trekking had broken you out from the forest and out to a bank of the river. You could constantly hear it flowing back from the cabin, and you were excited about finding it. The water was crystal blue, and the surface current was slow and free over the rocks. A small house with a thatched roof sat by the shore, and there was a fire burning low in a pit outside. Someone was still nearby.

You started down the path towards the house while pondering who could want to live this far out from the town. You had thought Audhild was the furthest away. Hermits were common among the Saxons, so it wasn't unreasonable to assume the Northmen had their fair share. Not that you were judging them, in fact, it was for that reason that gave you the confidence to approach.

"Hello?' You called out as you rounded the fire. It was still warm, and you did the stranger a kindness by throwing a nearby log onto the pit. The flames immediately fed on the new fuel, spreading high into the air and sending a warmth through you that was welcome after your walk. You took another look around before kneeling down in the gravel to huddle closer to the fire. It seemed that no one was around for the moment, and that granted you the luxury of peace. Everything was so unfamiliar, every branch and rock different than what you had seen in England. You thought you would have missed home, or at least held a longing for it, but no. You couldn’t even summon a fondness for it now. What you missed wasn’t a place, but a person.

You became lost in the beauty of your surroundings that you didn't notice the stranger appearing from behind the home. He moved with impossibly quiet steps, and you weren't alerted to his presence until he was looming over you, blocking the light of the fire. You let out a yelp as you fell onto your backside in the gravel. The large man narrowed his eyes at you as you scrambled to your feet. If Ivar could see you now. He would be furious you had let your guard down enough to be snuck upon. Stay alive he'd said.

"Who are you?" The man asked, and his voice was softer than you expected.

"I'm Ólaug," You said, fighting the tremble in your voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were here."

His head tilted to the side, watching you with a keen stare that you had only felt from Ivar. "What do you want? Did Lagertha send you?"

"No, I don't know Lagertha."

"You don't know the Queen of Kattegat, shieldmaiden and first wife of Ragnar Lothbrok." You didn't answer and he let out an insouciant giggle. "You're a Christian."

The way he said it made it sound awful, and you hated the way it made you feel. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yes. It's your hair and the way you speak." The stranger started to sit down by the fire, a string of fish hanging over his shoulder. He dropped his catch at his side and pulled a knife from his belt, getting to work on cutting filets. "Sit down, betrothed woman," He pressed while pointing with his blade to the spot across from him.

"Excuse me?"

"What, are you deaf?"

You took a seat once more, but not because he had asked it of you. “Why did you call me that just now? Betrothed woman…”

“Your name, that’s what it means.” He continued to fling fish heads and bones into a pile, never giving you the courtesy of his attention.

Ivar had given you the name, and it suddenly clued in that it was made in jest. Bride of Christ was what he had first called you, and now 'betrothed woman'. You smiled to yourself, not entirely at odds with the moniker.

“How did you come here, Christian? You don’t look like a thrall.”

“I’m not,” You replied quickly, and you found that he had stopped his task of cleaning his fish to observe you. You did the same in return. He was older and battle-worn judging by his stiff movements when he had sat down. His light hair was wispy and tied back in one long braid, and his rangy frame was draped in a brown fur pelt. You thought his eyes were sad. “What’s your name?”

“Floki.”

You were sure Ivar had mentioned him in passing, but you couldn’t recall when. “Alright, Floki. I was a thrall, but I was freed recently. I came from York with Ubbe Ragnarsson.”

"Ubbe has returned? Then he has abandoned Ivar."

You didn't know what Floki's connection was to Lagertha, so you didn't correct him on his assumption about the brothers being apart. "You are close with the sons of Ragnar?"

"Of course. They are the offspring of the greatest man I've ever known and my brother. They are kin," He said and his face was alive with passion. "And you must be connected to them. Was it Ivar who also freed you after giving you that knife?"

You looked down at the weapon on your belt, feeling flustered. "How do you know about the knife?"

"I taught that crippled brat everything he knows. I recognize his skill and craft in that blade," said Floki shaking his head. "That boy, so much like his father."

"Don't call him a cripple."

Floki's eyes shot to you and there was that giggle again. "Oh, and you're defensive of him as well. Are you his betrothed woman?"

The fire you sat beside could never warm you as much of those words just then. You knew you were red up to your ears, but you tried to deny whatever he was implying regardless "I'm not his anything."

"Then why did he set you free?"

You hadn't even admitted to him that Ivar had done so, but he had already decided that was the truth. He was still as a tree, the fish forgotten in the long line of your conversation. You felt unnerved by him as if everything about you was exposed to him like a gaping wound, and you had never been so relieved to be interrupted when a voice called out from above the path.

"Floki!"

It was Ubbe, looking out of breath and panic-stricken as he dashed down towards you. A blonde woman was trailing behind him, appearing displeased to be dragged this far out into the bush. She must be the wife.

You and Floki both stood as Ubbe came to the fire. He turned to you first, and you anticipated a lecture. "Why did you leave Audhild's cabin? I'm supposed to keep you safe. You can't wander off when you don't know the land or its people well enough."

"I would if you let me," You retorted while feeling humiliation for being scolded in front of Floki.

"Don't fret Ólaug," Floki interjected while planting a firm hand on Ubbe's shoulder. "He's only concerned to find you here because he thinks I'll kill you like I did Athelstan."

Ragnar's monk. Your eyes widened with surprise and fear, all while the two men shared a grin and embraced.

"Thought you'd gone on to lands unknown," Ubbe said to Floki as they parted.

"The Gods brought me home. They have something for me to do here yet," He said while looking back at you. "She is Ivar's woman?"

Ubbe turned to you with a grin and you looked down, not liking the attention. "You'll have to ask him. He's in Vestfold with Harald."

"Planning on Lagertha's demise then."

"Is that a problem for you?" Ubbe asked, becoming serious.

"Lagertha has been my friend for a long time, but your mother was also. She had such a connection to the gods." Floki's head pulled up to the sky as if a string was attached tugging forth to some greater presence. "Neither of them should have ever suffered over Ragnar. A great King and a true Viking, but a poor husband. Something I hear Bjorn has inherited."

You noticed Ubbe's face flush, and he brushed his hand down his neck. "Well, I know Ivar is set on revenge, and I don't know if there's anything that can change his mind."

By then Ubbe's wife had caught up to their circle, and you got the impression she wasn't pleased to be left behind. She was dressed in a thick red robe with fur trim, and her long hair was twisted onto her head like a crown. You wondered if all the women of Kattegat were blonde and beautiful, and you ran your fingers through your short hair. Ivar had said it was ugly when you first met. Vanity had suddenly become a trouble for you and you didn't like it.

Ubbe must have noticed you staring at his woman, and he quickly brought an arm around her to introduce her into the group. "Ólaug, this is my wife, Margrethe."

"Hello," You greeted, and as you waited for her reply, she took one long surveying look at you that ended with her nose wrinkled and her mouth puckered.

"Hello," She said shortly.

You wouldn't be making a friend out of her anytime soon, and you weren't bothered by that. She was as unpleasant as she was gorgeous, and Ubbe sent you an apologetic shrug for her frosty demeanor.

"I need to get you back to Audhild's before she wonders where you are," Ubbe explained and you nodded.

You were ready to conclude your first adventure, but you decided that you would want to speak to Floki again. He seemed to know a great deal about the sons of Ragnar and everything else that went on in Kattegat, and you wanted to poke his brain for more information that could help you grow as a free woman. You turned to the older Viking and squared your shoulders.

"Can I come back to see you?"

Floki laughed at a dazed Ubbe. "See, she's curious. I expected that from any woman of Ivar's."

At the mention of him, Margrethe recoiled further into Ubbe's side and sent you a scathing glare. You stared back at her with vacant eyes until she became uncomfortable and craned her neck towards the woods. Her escape.

"Betrothed woman," Floki interrupted, taking your hands in his massive ones. "You are a Christian, and I hold no love for your God or people. I've killed hundreds of your kind, and one who held the love of my King. But you have sailed on our ships and left your lands, and came out free on the other side. Our gods favor you as much as my dear Ivar, and I will speak to you again."

"Thank you," You whispered.

He smiled back for a moment, and you thought the perpetual melancholy that surrounded him had lifted in a brief respite. It returned as he dropped your hands, and he started to flick his wrist back and forth in a waving motion. "Now leave me alone. All of you."

Ubbe tugged on your coat sleeve to get you moving, and when you turned to join him, you spotted Margrethe up ahead.

"Sorry, she's not always like that," He insisted as he noticed your look.

No Ubbe, you thought, she most certainly was always that way, but he was too besotted with her looks to realize. Whatever was going on in his marriage wasn't your business, and you kept quiet by his side as he led you back to Audhild's cabin. You were impressed that you could have remembered the way if Ubbe hadn't been at your side. Something about the nonlinear path had felt familiar, and you were already looking forward to walking it again.

Your last thoughts before you slept were of Ivar, an ocean between you and with so much more to say. You wanted to tell him about Floki and talk with him about his mother. You wanted to be back at his side. He was such a large part of where your life had turned, and now that he had left you alone in this strange place you felt brittle and forgotten.

You refused to be overlooked as another Christian brought into their midst or condemned for being Ivar's woman when you weren't even sure if that was your place. Whatever your feelings for him were, they meant nothing if you couldn't secure your own station among the Northmen. That night you vowed to God, their gods, and yourself that you would become strong of heart and embrace your new life alongside the heathens. All life came with sacrifice and war, and whatever nightmares you would be forced to face, you would conquer them.

Taglist

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[hufflesmonsters]

New Beginnings

A/N: hi, just dropping in to say I’m writing again >:D enjoy this slow burn. Also, surprise, it’s not a lizard man story though I do have one in the works so there is that.

~*~*~*~

Torren swung the ax down, splitting the log in two. Sweat beaded his brow as the sun bore down on him. He stuck the ax down in the wood stump and stood, wiping away the sweat with the back of his hand as he looked up at the sky. Just past noon, he’d have to get a move on if he was going to be on time for the kings summon. If he even wanted to take the job, whatever it was. If King Richard the second wished to hire a mercenary, it surely couldn’t be for anything fun. He clearly didn’t want to waste his own men for this, which meant that Torren was likely going to die during his job. 

And yet… the money he would get if he lived. He could retire, and finally live his dream of being the towns hermit to its fullest potential. As in, he only ever comes into town on stormy nights to buy ten kegs of ale and disappear for another three months. He grew his own food, hunted his own meat. Of course he kept messing up his tomato plants which meant he had to go into town to get those, but once he can figure it out then mission Hermit was a go. 

Stepping back, he grabbed the shirt he had draped over a nearby branch and walked towards his home. It was a nice little shack, one he’d built from scratch back when he was just a young boy. He had found the location by accident really, one minute he was being chased by his elder brothers, the next he was standing in a clearing with a pond and no one in sight for miles. At first it was just a cool hideout, somewhere he could go to get away from his crazy family and village bullies. But over the years he spent more and more time here, fixing it up and expanding the facilities. Next thing he knew he had completely moved in and claimed the land officially as his. 

Tossing the shirt on the couch, he walked into his bedroom and opened his dresser. He wasn’t sure what he’d need really, if this was a quick trip, and he hoped it was, he’d only really need two shirts, pants and his washing supplies. He already had his armor on, his swords were already by the door, polished and ready to go. He grabbed the shirts, extra pants, and his bag of supplies and stuffed them into a bag that he could tack onto his horses saddle. He’d grab a small coin purse for food and drink, which should cover him for his trip if he was careful. If he ran out of coin he’d only have to offer to chop wood for inns or something like that. 

As he turned to leave, bag in hand, he stopped by the kitchen and grabbed the oat bag for Sweetie. Most of the time she was content to just chew on grass, or even break into gardens and devour everything in sight. But oats, how she loved oats. 

The sun glared at him as he exited the house, he stopped briefly to lock it up before continuing down the path to the pasture. He could already see the giant grazing peacefully, black tail flicking away bugs as her dappled gray coat shone silver in the sunlight. She was truly a magnificent horse, holding a presence without even trying. She was a draft horse, one of the few capable of holding a full grown orc. And she was an absolute sweetie, hence, her name. 

“Got something for you, Sweetie,” Torren called as he entered the stall part of the pasture, grinning as her large head shot up, ears pointed forward and nostrils flaring. She smelled the oats like sharks smell blood in the water. With a graceful trot, she soon stood in front of him, towering over him by two feet. She bent down and nuzzled his cheek lovingly, snorting into his ear as he tried to shove her away. “We don’t have time to cuddle, girl. The King wants us at the castle by midday tomorrow.”

Sweetie snorted and stood upright again, flank twitching as she moved past him and into the tacking area. She was smart, smarter than most horses he’d met. She waited patiently as he began to saddle her, taking his time to secure the bag and oats in a place where she couldn’t get to it. She was tricksy, especially when it came to oats. But she also knew that those were a night time snack, something that he wouldn’t just give out unless they narrowly avoided death and allowed her to have something to chew on while he fought off a panic attack. 

He slid the reins over her head, patting her cheek as she opened her mouth to allow the rod to go in. Once she was fully outfitted, he lead her out of the stalls and closed the doors behind her. He swung up onto her back, and settled in. Gathering the reins, he clicked his tongue and set off down the dirt path that lead into town. The castle wasn’t too far, if he traveled nonstop today he’d be able to make it before midday tomorrow. Talk to the king, get the job done, and they’d be home before they knew it. 

~*~*~*~

Reaching the castle, Torren almost turned back around. He’d heard the rumors, how King Richard the second seemed to… overcompensate. The walls around the kingdom were large, but not as large as the damn castle. It towered over everything, almost as if it was a direct challenge to the gods. It was also very, very ugly with its pale brown coloring and lack of windows.

Showing his summons slip to the guards at the gate, he slowly made his way into the kingdom. It was another thing that irked him about King Richard, he was a man with “purist” beliefs. No race other than human was allowed past the walls without a proper invite. There was no trading, or apprenticeship allowed between humans and others. Which raised another red flag about this job offer, why would a king who hates his kind specifically ask him to complete a task for him. 

Torren tightened his fist on the reins as he watched the crowd wearily. He was going to die, either here or on this job if he wasn’t careful enough. The townsfolk weren’t bad, they looked more open to him than the guards did, but he didn’t dare interact with them. Not even to the young children who waved at him for the guards were watching him just as closely as he was watching them. 

Reaching the palace, he climbed off of Sweetie’s back and handed the reins over to the stable boy, a warning look in his eyes. If they mistreated her, he would rip all of their spines from their backs and beat them to death with it. Torren turned to look at the guards that approached him, back stiff as he towered over them. It was almost laughable, how they escorted him into the palace. 

The inside of the castle was just as ugly as the outside, the same beige walls, no decorations whatsoever. Whoever helped the king design this deserved to be publicly executed. Knights stood at every corner, some seemed to be standing at random places the further they got in. It was almost as if someone had just told them to pick a window and stand. The guards increased as they drew closer to the throne room, all of them standing at attention as they stopped in the middle. The guards beside him stood at attention, hands over heart and back straight. 

One of the guards announced the arrival of the king, everyone else following in salute. Torren looked up in expectation for the infamous King Richard the Second. Looking, looking, out of confusion, his gaze drew down to the floor when an irritated cough sounded. 

Oh, oh gods… 

Torren had to physically bite his tongue as he took in the sight of King Richard the second. No wonder the castle was so large and hideous, this man barely stood past a humans waist. He recalled an old nickname for the king, one that was immediately outlawed in the towns surrounding his kingdom. Little Dick Jr, the bane of all of Pufort. 

Torren knelt in front of the tiny king before any more offense could be given. And he had a lot to give at this moment in time. “Your grace,” he said stiffly. 

“Rise,” came the nasally response. “Do you know why I've called you here, orc?” Dick Jr asked once Torren towered over him again. 

“No, m'lord.” 

“I am a king without a queen, I'm basically a laughing stock in all the kingdoms!” Torren was willing to put money on it, that wasn't the reason why, but he knew better than to say that. “But there's a princess, locked away in a tower due east. And she will be my bride.” 

“And you wish me to retrieve her?” Torren asked for clarification. That didn't sound so hard at all. 

“Yes, it's a week’s journey all together, the roads are treacherous, but I'm sure you're no stranger to that,” again, nothing dangerous. “And then of course there's the active volcano and lava surrounding the castle and the dragon guarding it.” Ah, there it is. 

“I see, that doesn't sound too difficult for me,” Torren said, lying through his teeth. He could handle bandits, he could even sneak past a fucking dragon. But lava? An active volcano? That was something he'd never experienced before and wasn't too keen on the idea. 

“Perfect, we will discuss your payment when you get back. Godspeed, I wish to be married by the end of the month!” Little Dick Jr clapped his hands twice, alerting the guards that he was done talking to the half orc. 

Torren bowed his head and turned to make his leave. If he walked fast enough, he could get out of this city by the time the king reached the stairs. The guards had attempted to follow him out, but after they had to literally run to keep up they quit. It wasn't like he was going to do anything anyways. 

He eyed the gods awful bust of Dick jr. and contemplated tripping into it…

No, no. Not yet. 

~*~*~*~

If there were small miracles, Torren may have found one. Sweetie was in perfect condition when he had retrieved her, granted she had been touched by the stable hands and she made sure to voice her displeasure by biting his shirt and nearly throwing him into a mud pile. Sweetie was a sweetheart up until she had the wrath of the gods placed upon her. 

They had made their way out of the kingdom as fast as they could, and Torren was grateful that the guards didn’t give him an official escort out of the kingdom. Though, he had noticed several guards watching him carefully if he lingered too long in an area. Sure, there was traffic, but he was an orc, that was an unforgivable crime don’t you know? He half expected to get harassed when he passed by the front gate guards, but he was uncomfortably surprised to find that they did not. 

Oh, he was going to die on this mission. He should have gotten his affairs in order, who was going to take after Sweetie when he was gone? His brothers were half a kingdom away and his neighbors didn’t know he existed. Now, he was realizing as he traversed the hills, it was a bad time to be a hermit. Sweetie was smart though, maybe she’d find a new hermit to adopt and go about her life. 

Okay, maybe he should focus on traveling and not his soon to be untimely demise. 

Torren had just crested the hill overlooking the neighboring village when a shout came from his right. Looking over, he was wary to see an elf making his way over on his own sturdy steed. The elf seemed friendly enough, though most elves he met rarely stayed friendly. He paused and waited for the elf to approach, keeping a hand on his dagger just in case. 

The elf wasn’t bad looking, kind of handsome really if Torren was being honest with himself. Tall, a bit taller than most of the elves he met, golden skin that would make King Midas jealous. Long brown hair braided back in practicality rather than aesthetic, though it was a tad too ornate for pure practicality. He was dressed in simple leathers, with elven embroidery up around the shoulders, partially obscured by the cloak he wore. 

  “Hail, friend! I see you came from Pufort, a fine accomplishment for those of us considered too “unpure”,” the elf gave a laugh as he settled beside Sweetie. “Gavril, merc for hire,” he introduced himself as he put his hand out.

“Torren,” Torren said as he took the hand and shook it once. A mutual respect was given to the elf, some mercs stuck together, especially those around Pufort. The land wasn’t known for tolerance, mostly the guards fault, and so it wasn’t common to see many mercs who weren’t human. “What brings you to Pufort?”

“Ah, but the king, of course!” Gavril gave the man a bright smile before his smile dropped. “Better to talk here than in the village. Less ears.”

Torren felt his heart drop at the comment, dear gods was this the end? He hadn’t even made it out of Pufort yet! Gods, the amount of fun his brothers would have when they find out that he died in Pufort of all places… 

“I can see you’re freaking out, fear not, I am not going to say “long live Dickie”,” Gavril let out a laugh, and Torren didn’t appreciate it, like, at all. “He hired me a month back, and when I disappeared he chose to hire you.”

“And I should believe you, why?” Torren actually did believe him, it was just the dick move that Dickie would pull. But he was a distrustful man by nature, and so grilling the elf it was. 

“Why would I lie? Being here in of itself is a death sentence for me if one of his guards spots me,” Gavril shrugged. “No, I felt as if the job was far too… strange for me to complete without the full story.”

“And that story was?” Torren raised a brow as he shifted on Sweetie, who snorted in warning as she grazed. 

“The princess, she’s apparently the daughter of the neighboring kingdom, Aster. I did my research and went to them with the information on Richard. They don’t like the idea of an unsavory man such as him “rescuing” their daughter in such an unhonorable way,” Gavril leaned a bit as his voice dropped. “I was riding by, coming back from another business that I had to attend,  when I happened to have heard he had another summons, I thought it was only fair to let you know about it all.”

“And what, exactly, are you hoping to inform me of other than the princesses misfortunes?” Torren leaned slightly in despite himself. 

“I’m to meet another fellow, a minotaur by the name of Jardor. He was the princess's guard before she was imprisoned so she’d be more trusting of us. Her parents hired me to take her Aster instead of Pufort, and their offer is extended to any other mercenary hired by Richard.”

“And this is legitimate? How do you know they won’t cast you off to Richards' wrath once they have their daughter?” 

Gavril nodded as he sat upright. “A fair question, I, myself, found myself doubting it. However, I asked around their former employers and found that they were actually credible. I understand that you have no reason to believe me, but if you are curious you are more than welcome to come with me to meet up with Jardor.”

“And where is he?” Surely a minotaur would be noticeable around a place like Pufort.

“He was smart enough not to come to the welcoming land of Pufort,” Gavril said with a grin. “He’s in Halder’s Rest in the neighboring village, Stonewall, I believe.” 

“And you just happened to be riding by Pufort and saw me?” Torren raised a brow as he leaned back. 

Gavril let out a soft laugh. “Fair enough, I might have been lingering around to see what the little man’s reaction would have been.”

“How? You couldn’t have been allowed in the city.”

“It’s actually fairly easy to sneak in if you find the really dumb guards,” Gavril said with a smirk. “If you talk fast and use big words to explain away things, they simply just let you in.”

Torren shook his head, “very well. I’ll come with you to this Jardor, but I make no promises that I will join you.”

“Of course,” Gavril gave a bow to his head. “Now, what do you think are the odds that these kind folk will allow us to rest in their undoubtedly comfortable inn?”

“‘Us’?” Torren looked at the elf with furrowed brows. Surely he didn’t think they were going to travel to Halder’s Rest together, did he?

“Yes, ‘us’,” Gavril said with a raised brow. “Surely you didn’t think I’d just abandon you to these unwashed masses, did you?”

“Yes?” Torren wasn’t sure who he pissed off up there, but he was fairly sure he didn’t deserve this kind of forced upon companionship here. 

“Oh, my friend,” Gavril gave a sympathetic pout before clapping Torren on the shoulder. “You’re stuck with me.”

Gods help him.

~*~*~*~

Turns out, the good folk were not willing to rent out their plentiful rooms to two distinguished gentlemen like them. So, seeing as the guards started gathering around them once they exited, the duo had opted to camp out on the spacious planes outside of the village. Pro: it was a nice night out with the stars shining bright; con: there were wolves and they very much were eyeing them as a snack.

Luckily for them, the wolves found a rather unfortunate deer and left them alone for the rest of the night. After that, the sleeping got easier, though Torren still kept a hand on his dagger under his pillow. And if he noticed that Gavril did the same with his staff, well, he wasn’t going to be one to talk. 

The morning was a tense affair, Gavril had cooked and while it smelt delicious Torren wasn’t one for accepting food from strangers. But his mother also raised a gentleman with manners so he ate anyway. And it pissed him off more that it was, indeed, delicious in all honesty.

They set off not long afterwards, mounting their steeds and making their way to Stonewall, a village that was a good two hours away. Both Sweetie and Torren did their best to ride ahead of Gavril and his steed, Farren, however the two seemed to be professionals Thorn in his Side, for they stayed right on his heels, humming a stupid little song.

Torren really pissed off some of the gods. 

But, by the Grace of the gods, they finally made it to Halder's Rest with minimal spats. Or, "character building" in Gavril's mind. The vast difference between Aster's civilians and Pufort's was easily spotted. Where an inhuman was hard to see even just passing through in Pufort, it was hard to not see them in Aster. From vendors, to guards, to just a milk maiden lizard girl. 

It felt… welcoming. 

"Halder's Rest is just down the road,'' Gavril said as he led Farren though the bustling roads. 

Torren let him take the reins, not sure if he should run or not. He had no idea really what sort of situation he was walking into. One kingdom was going to be pissed off, that was for sure. Either Pufort or Aster, and he wasn’t sure which one was better. Aster wasn’t known for its military, sure it had it, but no one had seen it in action in well over a hundred years. They preferred to stay diplomatic in negotiations, and somehow it’s worked so far. And yet, he feared what Aster would do if King Richard the Seconded got his grubby little hands on their daughter. 

But another part feared what the King would do to him if he failed to deliver the princess. He wasn’t the first mercenary, and even Gavril admitted he was cheating death when he hung around Pufort waiting for Torren to leave. Pufort was well known for their military power. King Richard was always willing to fling a fleet at a neighboring kingdom, or hell, even his own people, if he felt there was even a hint of offense at him and his legitimacy of his rule. 

He should run, Torren realized. Like now, right now-

“Hey, there he is!” Gavril said as he pointed at the minotaur guard that stood outside the inn with his arms crossed.  “Jardor!”

Jardor looked up with irritation on his face. He was big, even for a minotaur and just as uniquely colored. Most minotaurs that Torren had come across were either brown or black with white colorations. But Jardor was a multi-colored minotaur, white based but he had russet, black, brown and gray mottled on the skin that was exposed through his armor. His horns were wide and angled high, making him more imposing.

“Stop calling attention to us,” the guard hissed as they drew closer. “You could jeopardize the mission.”

“Oh, please,” Gavril rolled his eyes. “There’s only milkmaids here, it’s not that dangerous.”

“The king could find out and send his fleet,” Torren hissed at the elf. 

“Exactly,” Jardor snorted as he shifted his stance. “Our success depends heavily on stealth. Until we deliver the princess back to the capital of Aster, we are not out of the weeds yet.”

Gavril sighed heavily but nodded. “So, are we heading out or is there other business we need to attend to first here?”

“We’ll head out, most of the pleasantries can be exchanged on the road,” Jardor said as he led them to the guards stables and pulled his draft horse out of the stall. As he mounted, Torren surveyed the town. It was a nice place to be, he supposed. But he still preferred his privacy.

“I don’t believe we met,” Jardor said to him as they set out. “I’m the Princesses’ guard, Jardor Stoneskin. And you?”

“Torren Azorrn,” Torren said finally. “Just got hired from the King-”

“-and poached from me once he left,” Gavril interjected with a cheerful grin.

“Yes,” Torren agreed with a heavy sighed. 

Jardor snorted and shook his head. “Of course,” he sighed. “I apologize for him, he was supposed to go home and then make his way back here. Though I am glad he did make the detour, I doubt I would have survived the trip with just the two of us.”

Torren found himself smiling as Gavril let out a gasp of mock hurt. “It is nice to have a more level headed company,” he agreed as Gavril mumbled to himself as the two men snickered. 

“I will have you two know, I am pleasant company!” Gavril said as he steered his horse next to Sweetie. 

“Of course, my friend,” Jardor said evenly with a placating smile. “Of course.”

“Why did you have to return home, anyways?” Torren asked with a raised brow at the elf. He had only mentioned business arrangements, but going home was an entirely different thing “Was that the other business you mentioned earlier?” 

“It was,” Gavril said defensively. “I have people at home who were waiting on me, had to let them know I’d be back for good later than anticipated.” 

Torren nodded and left it at that, he wasn’t going to judge people for their personal affairs, he knew that if he was still in contact with his own brothers he’d be doing the same. They lapsed into a silence after that, save for the occasional direction change from Jardor the other two were content with just following him. Finally, Torren found himself speaking up. “Jardor, if you’re the princesses’ guard, then why aren’t you with her?”

“Ah, there are two princesses in Aster, the one who is heir to the throne and the second in line should anything happen to the eldest sibling,” Jardor said. “The princess I served was the second in line, though she loathed the whole thing,” he added with a soft smile. “When she was...cursed, I was ordered to stay behind and help protect her sister.”

“So she’s cursed?” Gavril asked with a frown. “You didn’t mention that.”

Jardor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I, yes, she’s cursed,” he said stiffly. “The sooner she comes home, I’m sure she’ll be closer to breaking that curse.”

“Isn’t true love usually the factor in those curses?” Gavril asked with a furrowed brow as Torren studied the minotaur. 

“Yes, but that is not the case here,” Jardor said with such confidence neither mercenary knew what to do with that. 

“So what is this curse?” Torren asked. “Why was she moved to such a remote location, surrounded by lava and a dragon?”

“It was considered necessary by the Throne, it was not my place to question it,” Jardor said stiffly. 

“So you did disagree,” Gavril noted. “Which means it likely isn’t a curse, and that makes me so much more intrigued, don’t you feel the same, Torren?” 

Torren didn’t comment. But he did note that the minotaur was clearly hiding something, and that made him all the more wary of this job. He should have just stayed home. 

“Must you grate on my nerves, elf-boy?” Jardor snapped as he looked at the elven mercenary. 

“Ah, elf-boy is actually my younger brother, a cute lad but not nearly as annoying as me, elf-man,” Gavril said with a grin, but it dropped quickly in the wake of a grim expression on his face. “Look, we can deal with a dragon, and even the lava. But if she’s cursed, we need to know exactly what we’re walking into.”

“Nothing dangerous,” Jardor promised, and the two men relaxed just a bit at that. The situation was weird, but Jardor radiated a trusting aura that it was hard to suspect they were walking into a trap. At least for Gavril, Torren always assumed there would be a trap involved when he traveled with others. “Just let me take the lead when we get to the tower, a familiar face will help her.”

“How long has she been locked away?” Torren asked finally. 

“Seven years,” Jardor said with a weary look in his eyes, and deeper down, pain. “It’s high time for her to come home.” He nudged his horse, kicking her into a faster gait as they made their way out of Aster and into the wildlands. “That said, we’re a three day journey away from the tower, it’s in a remote part of the country that few travel by. We shouldn’t face any resistance before the volcano.”

“Well then, let’s get ourselves a princess,” Gavril said with a smirk at Torren as he sent Farren barreling after Jardor. 

Torren sighed heavily and patted Sweetie’s neck, “let’s get this over with,” he said to her as he nudged her side gently, a gentle permission to run with the other horses, a permission that she gladly took as she galloped next to their two companions. In just three days, he’ll be fighting off a dragon surrounded by molten lava just to rescue a princess. That was the only certain thing he knew about this mission, if there was a curse, if they could get her to Aster before the King found out, if he still was getting paid.

Gods, was he still getting paid?

~*~*~*~

[eye of the tiger blasting]

Jardor kept the lead, forging ahead when Gavril decided that bickering with Torren was a Lovely Idea. Both men, both adult men, were constantly five seconds away from getting into a slapping fight that escalated when Gavril, a four year old apparently trapped in a twenty eight year old's body, claimed that Torren had hit him. 

Jardor just let it happen when Torren really did hit him. 

Setting up camp was a horrid affair, all three of them were skilled in camping, but those skills had varying degrees. Jardor could put up an excellent tent, but the sleeping cot kept getting tangled and eventually he just laid out on the mess with a stoic resolve. Torren was an expert in putting out his sleeping cot, but his tent kept falling out on one side and eventually he just moved Sweetie over to help keep it propped up with the promises of getting her an extra big bag of oats. And Gavril would put his tent up, but in the process of laying out his sleeping cot the tent would fall. When he’d try to put the cot up first, the tent would fall and he’d have to find his way back out again. And so, in a moment where his remaining two brain cells bumped together, he tied his tent up to the branches of the tree keeping it up and elevated while Torren glared at him from the inside of his lopsided tent that was beginning to smell of horse.

The morning didn’t help anything either. 

Torren, used to years of cooking and traveling by himself, had woken up early and made himself, and only himself, a nice breakfast. The other two, woken by the pleasant smell of bacon and the heavenly sizzle of fresh eggs being cooked, came out of their tents with growling stomachs and crushing disappointment when they spotted Torren eating it all by himself. Jardor was disappointed, Gavril was dismayed. The two had to fend for themselves, Jardor splitting a piece of jerky with the elf as they glared subtly in Jardor’s case, and blatantly in Gavril’s. 

When they finally set back out again, it was in lesser spirits than the day before. They were less than a day away, according to the smell of sulfur that got increasingly heavier as they traveled on. Gavril could see why no one had rescued the princess prior till now, the lands around the volcano were barren, the roads treacherous by hungry wolves. It was dangerous even for the three of them, he couldn’t imagine a merchant or a lone adventurer braving this land.

Well, maybe Torren.

But everyone else would be fucked.

Jardor let out a soft laugh up ahead and slowed to a stop at the crest of the hill. He glanced back at the two catching up, a light shining in his eyes as he grinned at them. “We’re here,” he announced as the tower, tall and magnificent, loomed below. It wasn’t exactly just a remote tower, Gavril could make out some crumbling structures of a once beautiful palace. He wondered, hoped really, that it was still stable and safe for the princess, surely her parent’s wouldn’t have dumped her into this hell hole if it was unstable. He paused, actually, he’s met some gods awful parent’s. It was a high possibility. But that was neither here nor there, the tower was still far enough away, but they would arrive there within the hour if they paced themselves. They still couldn’t spot the dragon, and none of them were willing to go head on against a fucking dragon.

Torren opened his mouth to speak, to ask what the plan was in case the dragon reared its head. But before he could utter a single word, a horn sounded from behind them. The three turned on their steeds to watch as a troop of soldiers made their way towards the tower, banners flying high, and armor glittering in the sunlight. 

Pufort. 

"Fuck," Gavril said with pursed lips. 

Fuck was right. 

~*~*~*~

Princess Amirah was absolutely, and positively bored. She had nothing else to paint, unless Harold suddenly changed their mind about her painting his scales. She’s run dramatically through the hallways a dozen times this morning, and really she wasn’t feeling it for a thirteenth time. All the books have been read, a countless amount of times. At this point she could quote the books and she did, constantly, to Harold as they cleaned their teeth from their meal each night. Harold never spoke as to whether or not they enjoyed it, but she assumed they would have put an end to it by now if they didn’t. 

She sighed heavily as she paced her room, paint brush in hand as she tried to figure out a new canvas. There was still some room on the window sill, maybe even the dresser if she painted small enough. She paused by the open window, the smell of sulfur no longer bothered her as she breathed it in. She barely remembered the smell of fresh, clean air. Or the sound of bustling streets, the maids coming in with sweet hushed words, her mothers hugs…

Amirah shook her head and smacked her cheek chastisingly with her paint brush. No, no thoughts like that, she’s survived seven years without those things, she can survive many more. In all honesty, she probably could leave. It wasn’t like anyone was going to come looking for her of all the princesses in this unholy tower. They were more likely to go for the skinny blonde overlooking the ocean than her. Which was fine, she was the second born princess of Aster, her sister was always considered the prettiest, the fairest, the princess that all should aspire to be. 

Amirah made it her mission to defy that expectation. She hated the princess duties that her mother and sister had forced her to attend. She hated the expectations that were expected of her as the second in line to the throne. To marry a neighboring kingdom, to secure an alliance between the two. To have their heirs and continue the bloodline. It all made her squeamish honestly. In a perfect life, she wouldn’t mind marrying and settling down on her own terms with someone that she truly loved. But she didn’t have the perfect life, she had her mothers expectations and her sister's legacy. 

She was honestly safer in the tower than back home. 

A strange sound filled the air, and a frown pulled at her lips as she looked off outside. She adjusted her glasses as another horn sounded, a horn of all things. Why would a horn be here, who was blowing the damned thing. They were going to wake Harold up!

Leaning out the window, Amirah let out a gasp as banners crested over the hill. Banners that belonged to Pufort, the kingdom ruled by King Richard. In the distance, she spotted three men charging ahead of the group, and hope glittered in her heart as she spied familiar horns. Was Jardor really here? She didn't know who the other men were, or what she assumed were male honestly she knew some beefy female knights, oh gods was Clarissa here? That would truly make her day. 

Before she could speculate, however, a loud roar filled the air and shook the ground. Clinging to the wall, Amirah looked up in slight fear. She knew that roar, and what it meant. A challenge, anyone who wanted her, had to go through them.

May the Divines bless their poor souls.