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libertyreads · 4 years

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Underhyped Books--

These are some of the books on my shelves that I think are under-hyped on the Book-ternet as some people call it. I think a lot of these standalones or series are under represented in the book community online. (Going from top to bottom, left to right.)

1. The Inheritance Games by Jennifer Lynn Barnes-- Maybe I’m biased because this is one of my favorite authors. I discovered her a year or two ago and have become obsessed. The latest series of hers is going to be an all time favorite for me. Or at least the first one was. This book came out this past fall so I know that’s probably part of the reason for the under representation. But, for the love of all things spooky and puzzle-y, read this damn book.

2. House of Salt and Sorrows by Erin A. Craig-- This is a 12 dancing princesses retelling that has some turns no one expects. It has a gothic/horror/mystery/thriller element in a creepy mansion. What’s not to love? It’s so perfect for the fall. I have seen a couple of people talk about this one, but it’s not getting the love it truly deserves.

3. The One by John Marrs-- I only read this one this past month so maybe I’m the person who’s late to the party here. But I just need people to read this and love it as much as I do. I was literally gasping out loud and saying things like, “No. No, they wouldn’t do that. Oh. My. God. They did that.” Thankfully there is a Netflix adaptation coming out on March 12th.

4. In the Hall with the Knife by Diana Peterfreund-- This one got me hooked so fast. I blame the 1000 times I watched Clue (1985 with Tim Curry) as a kid. This is a take on Clue that involves a boarding school in an isolated Maine town. It’s probably the fact that this is so easy to read and is probably on the middle end of the YA age range that keeps this from being so popular. But I cannot tell you how much I loved this book when I read it this past fall. It’s the perfect late fall/early winter read.

5. Sky in the Deep by Adrienne Young-- A YA Viking Fantasy story about two rival tribes. The way it felt like this book dropped you into this world and you didn’t come up for air until the book was over? Amazing. I think I’ve only heard about it in passing which is a damn shame.

6. The Queen’s Rising by Rebecca Ross-- This was one of those books that sat on my shelf for years before I found the time for it and afterward regretted not reading it sooner. This is a YA Fantasy that includes a fallen kingdom that is overtaken and must find the strength to stand up to their oppressors. It’s only a duology so this series was so quick for me to read.

7. Old Magic by Marianne Curley-- A backlist Fantasy novel from 2000. This is probably the oldest book on this list and so the nostalgia is a big factor here. But this is about a girl going back in time to prevent an evil wizard from putting a curse on her friend’s family bloodline. This does a good job of pulling the reader into the setting as well.

8. Fable by Adrienne Young-- This is a more recent release so I understand that a lot of people may not have gotten around to it yet, but I wish they would. I need someone to talk to about this book. This is a YA Fantasy novel about a girl who gets dropped on a deserted island after her mother is killed in a storm on the sea. Her only goal for the next four years is to find a way off the island and back to her father who is the biggest trader in the Narrows. The setting is great, very pirate-y, and a classic found family trope. As a whole, I just think Adrienne Young is a really underrated writer.

9. Turtles All the Way Down by John Green-- Being a fan of John Green’s has been a bit of a roller coaster ride as he got more and more popular only to plummet as people started picking his work apart. But I think this book is him being truly vulnerable as writer. He suffers from OCD similar to the OCD the main character suffers in this novel. And as someone who has been diagnosed with OCD I found this to be pretty haunting to read. I know that this book isn’t a beloved John Green book and I think that’s a real shame.

10. Written in Red by Anne Bishop-- This series is a bit weird for me since this isn’t my usual genre. This is an Adult Urban Fantasy about a blood seer who runs away from the institution she’s been kept in and finds her way to the local group of mythological creatures who hold a lot of power influence over the local government. There are werewolves, shifters, vampires...etc. who take up a huge section of this city and there are a ton of politics throughout the series. But the thing that I loved the most about it is that every story has a section that is so slice of life before the big action happens and those moments were so warm and cozy. The big action at the end of the novels all work to bring the main characters closer. There’s a romance between the human seer and the alpha werewolf which I didn’t expect to enjoy as much as I did. Also, I read most of this series while I was stuck in bed sick with covid so I think the distraction added another level of fondness from me.

11. Rebel of the Sands by Alwyn Hamilton-- Where. Are. My. YA. Fantasy. People. AT?! Why is no one talking about this series?! This a YA Desert Fantasy with some amazing characters and a rebellion hiding out in the desert from the people in power. Found family tropes. Magic. Mystery. Stop sleeping on this series already! My only real complaint is that I wish I had the original cover because that one is so beautiful.

12. Ace of Shades by Amanda Foody-- I originally got the first book in this series in a subscription box but held off reading it because I hadn’t heard of this series before then. But it’s one of those series that you wish you had read as soon as you had gotten it. This is a YA Fantasy novel set in a fictional town that looks/feels like a combination of 1920s-ish New York and Las Vegas. The Shadow Game series is about a girl going to the big city to find her adoptive mother who’s gone missing while there for work. But she’s spent her whole life learning how to be a proper lady and in the City of Sin anything can happen. The magic system here is so, so well done. It’s something I haven’t seen before or since which is refreshing when the main thing you read is Fantasy.

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vulpes-nothus · 3 years

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Things I Want to See More Of: Fantasy Setting Edition

Religion

Actual stories from your religion. Not even necessarily a full blown book of myths written in iambic pentameter; I'd be happy with just a quick summary, like, "huh, this reminds me of my favorite story about Njrgnblr, God of Gn'Blrs. You know, the time when Njrgnblr needed to fool the Grktndrk into thinking they were a simple house wife so that they could cross the River of Snakes Instead of Water?"

Reference based curses. "Gods damnit" or "Gods above" is weak. I wanna hear a panicked scream of "Frygg's tits" or "sack of the King in Yellow."

Rites that aren't just "what I think happens in churches" or "the Vikings doing track for Thor." I want to see some internal symbolic logic that translates into activities. Hel, as a pagan myself I fully recognize that most rites seem to be just parties that involve bonfires and wine, but if you follow the patterns you can extrapolate the difference between Beltane and Yule while still recognizing they both definitely come from the same practice.

For that matter, sacred sites that aren't just generic temples. I don't always want to go to Prayers R' Us if I want to find a priest. Maybe I want to go to the Blurken Stone where the Herp'd'Durp first grokked the true Blurk of Gerd. Or maybe I want to pay respects to the cleric by taking his body to the Sacred Ditch where the Wanderers roll their dead and kick leaves over them by the Wandering Roads.

Magic

More small magic, please! Like pinkie promises that actually fuck up your pinkie when broken, or saying a blessing to someone who coughs actually doing something beneficial. Just, more puny spells that children can do by accident.

Ambiant magic. Like, sections of forest that cloud your mind, undead rising as a response to not observing last rites, cats and small children being able to see magic... Just magic that just is without a spell or ritual.

More spirit involvement. It's gotten to the point where a wizard is just a guy that wiggle their fingers and make fire happen. I would love to see a fireball where a wizard calls the name of some Calcifur looking thing, whispers to it and points at the tavern, it flies off, and explodes while cackling. Or a detect magic spell that is less CSI UV detector, and more looking around and watching weird things squirm over swords and wriggle in bottles while chanting their purpose.

World Building

Less fear of technology and more understanding of it. Kinda tired of settings with blimps, clocks, and plate mail but no guns or wheelchairs to be seen. It doesn't have to be universal, Hel, there was a time when a samurai could have sent a telegraph to Lincoln before strapping on O-Yoroi to deal with the latest peasant insurrection. But maybe recognize what kind of tech would be developed alongside each other, like plate armor being made to counter guns or airships being reliant on there first being a way to capture and contain lighter-than-air gases.

Tired of humans being the only people with dozens of languages and cultures. I really want to see different elves with the same base abilities, but speaking and living different lives in different parts of the world. I want to see some orcs that live in cities, tents, caves, AND nomadic caravans, at the same time, and needing translators to talk to each other.

More animals. Not magical beasties, not just animals from our world (though that would be cool if there was more diversity to the imports... like stonefish and keas and capybaras and shit) but full blown new species of regular ass animals, like tree dwelling soles or desert squid or coral sloths.

More plants that aren't plant monsters or mcguffins. You can only go so far with magical trees that store souls, killer vines, and flytraps that can chase you before people just start wondering if your dandiLIONS aren't just lazy world building. But a bright purple moss that grows on cliffs and burns like fire coral seems like a real plant, and most cool fantasy plants (and animals and diseases, for that matter) are things that *could* have happened, but didn't.

#world building

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stucky-starnes · 3 years

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Gleam and Glow

Chapter 1

Pairing: Grey! Bucky Barnes x Fem! Reader

Word count: 3,374

Description: The reader has been held captive by their own mother their whole life, taught to believe the world is bad and that they need to be protected from it. That their gift needs to be protected from it. They possess 70 feet of hair with healing properties and some people will do anything for a chance at peace.

General Warnings: This story contains dark elements and various dark characters!! Do not read if this makes you uncomfortable!!!, kidnapping, violence, language, angst, whump, for the purposes of the story the reader has 70ft foot long hair that glows gold- this does not change regardless of hair color or texture, inspired by the movie Tangled.

Chapter Warnings: kidnapping, manhandling, betrayal, mention of trafficking (selling/buying of a human), John Walker, very naive reader, brief sexual implications,arguments, un-gendered pet names,choking, illusion to sexual harassment, language, please read at your own discretion.

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK, REBLOGS ARE WELCOME AND APPRECIATED

A majority of your childhood was peaceful. You got to do all the normal kid things- of course you were never totally sure what a ‘normal’ kid thing was on account of the fact that you’d actually never met another kid but, it felt normal enough. Aside from the very abnormal ‘birth defect’ you were ‘gifted’ with. You stopped considering your magical abilities as a gift by the time you were seventeen, when your mother made it abundantly clear that you could never leave the tower, you could never go outside, and you could never cut your hair.

The only thing more annoying than the seventy foot long tresses was your mother. According to her, your father was a sloppy one night stand she found in a tavern. He was a love em’ and leave em’ type of guy; he gave your mother one great romantic night and then disappeared off the face of the earth. You’ve never met him. You’ve never met anybody. Your mother has always been your only companion. She was a beautiful woman, she said you take after her more than your dad. While she was gorgeous and protective, she was also passive aggressive, rash, and ostentatious. If it was possible for her to get out of being “the bad guy” she lunged, dragging you under at the first chance. When you were younger she would tell you stories about the outside, she made it seem like a gorgeous place. She described the kingdom and the many villages outside its walls. She started with all the good things until you showed interest in escaping, then, she gave you the truth. She began to spin tales of roads rich with crime, vigilante gangs, covert groups of thugs, and rebel Viking camps. From what you could piece together, the rebel Viking camps were the greatest concern.

The rebel Viking groups weren’t actually Vikings. Your mother had said they called them The Vikings because of their rugged and brutal lifestyle. The camp they occupy is more like a small village, the structures following Norse architectural style, chalk-full of criminals and runaways. Runaways. Your mother had always explained to you that when young girls ran away from their mothers they ended up in that village living a life of crime. The very thought of falling into the wrong hands has kept you from sneaking out or from begging to leave the tower. You found ways to be content, ways to keep busy.

The tower wasn’t as big as it looked from the outside, the only living space was at the very top of the tower. The top of the tower had about two floors worth of open space, minimal and organized in the lower level and very maximalist in the bedrooms and wall decor. Mother said the rest of the tower below was sturdy white brick and vine, aged by time and the weather. Most of the exterior bricks were cracked or crumbling, so all the support for the turret came from the tower’s solid core. The roof was a chipped and rusty blue color mostly concealed by untamed ivy growth, which also hid the entrance to the tower’s turret. To your home. The only way in and out of the tower was an intricate pulley system made from twisted vine and rope. Originally, mother had used your hair to get into the turret, until one day a strand snapped from the pressure, dying and losing its magic. In an effort to protect your gift, you helped your mother make the pulley.

Crafting things was just one of the many ways you spent your time in the tower. After you’d turned eighteen your mother didn’t stick around much, if at all, leaving at night to go to the palace or the tavern, sometimes coming back in the morning and sometimes being gone for a day or two. With so much time alone the only option was to learn how to entertain yourself. Reading books, cooking, painting, testing the information you soaked up from all of the books, sewing holes in clothes, polishing leather, polishing silver, dusting, drawing in the dust. It’s a really long list. If there’s more to add you add it, forever stretching the possibilities. As the sun started to go down however, it started to seep in just how repetitive and predictable your daily activities had become. While you knew leaving the tower would be a horrible and dangerous mistake, you couldn’t help but long to be outside. To feel the grass between your fingers or to stand out in the sun, somewhere other than where it leaks through the turrets window entrance. It could never happen. Knowing this was an impossibility kept an icy grip on your stomach, a lonely sort of feeling, naturally touch starved by fate. It’s been years since the last time you asked to leave. Much before you knew how dangerous it really was out there. Asking one more time couldn’t really hurt could it? You’d be twenty soon enough, just one touch wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Mother had left early in the morning, off to do some much needed grocery shopping; if she hadn’t decided to stop by the tavern she would be home very soon. Too soon to come up with a better plan. Quickly you started to prepare for her to come home, sweeping the dining area and pulling out the utensils needed to make a special stew recipe you remember she had enjoyed. If she was going to say yes she needed to be buttered up first. Once the cooking utensils were nicely organized on or beside the unlit stove, and the dust was done away with, it was time to make quick work of anything she could use against your argument. Rushing to one of your most treasured bookshelves you pulled a discarded velvet scrap from the back of one of your more worn astronomy books. The midnight blue fabric had been torn from one of your favorite dresses when you were sixteen, unwilling to part with the shredded material, it was quickly fashioned into a long braided bookmark. Since then you’ve opted for shorter than floor length gowns or comfortable riding pants and tunics. The supposedly “masculine” style annoyed mother to no end but then again she really couldn’t understand how suffocating the corsets could become, or how difficult it was to fasten them without getting hair caught beneath the strings.

Unbraiding the bookmark allowed it to become one long thick strand, setting it on the dining table, you went to gather your hair. For the most part, you tried to keep it close to yourself. Getting any part snagged or wrapped around something was more of a pain in the ass than taking the time to gather it together. Gathering so much hair was difficult, it took time and it was unbelievably heavy. Once you were finally able to get it all in one place you started the tedious task of braiding. In order to braid it up enough to keep it off the floor you split it into three sections, braiding those separately before braiding them up into a complex Dutch braid. It took nearly two hours to finish so you could finally tie up the end with the dismantled bookmark. The complexity allowed the braid to settle halfway down your calves, keeping it neat and off the ground. Now all that was left to do was light the lanterns around the room and wait. Waiting for mother to get home was nerve wracking, if possible you’d busy yourself with starting the stew but you were fresh out of the most important ingredients.

“Y/n let down the vine!” Mother yelled from the bottom of the tower and the tension finally broke.

“Coming!” You sighed out in relief rushing to the window and lowering out the vine life you had made.

Once you were sure she was safely in the lift’s sling, you utilized the pulley system to begin pulling her up. The tower was around forty feet tall, making the trip up lengthy and difficult. When she was close enough to the window entrance you hooked the vine slack onto the wall hook, keeping it stationary, before quickly coming to help her in with the groceries. Taking the canvas grocery bags from her arms and into the kitchen, you started pulling out the items to take inventory on what she’d bought at the market.

“How was the market? Did that man give you trouble on the celery prices again?”

“Ugh doesn’t he always? Absolutely exhausting, he wanted double, and then there was a fight at the tavern again which I always have to break up.” She pulled out a chair at the dining table, sitting into it and slinging her feet up into the neighboring chair.

You slowed for a moment, pulling the bundle of carrots from the bag slower as you processed that she may be intoxicated which meant there’d be zero chance of having the conversation you desperately desired.

“You went to the tavern?” You asked, feigning excitement.

“Of course sweetheart, I promised that I would but I wasn’t there for long I promise.” She got up to meet you in the kitchen, resting her hands on your shoulders.

“Now what are we having? I’m absolutely starved.” She smiled.

“I was going to make that stew from last winter that you liked so much. Now that fall is settling in.” you started to add broth and small peeled potatoes to the pot.

“That sounds delightful darling, I’m going to go rest my eyes, call me when it’s done?” Mother started to walk away. It was now or never.

“Actually!” You cleared your throat., “Actually I was hoping I could talk to you about something.”

“Alright but let’s make this quick, mama’s feet are aching.” She turned back around to sit in another chair.

“Well as you know I’m almost twenty, an adult really and I’m already very responsible around the tower-“

“Y/n where is this going?” She interrupted, rubbing her temples.

“I want to go outside.” You turned to look at her.

“We’ve talked about this! It’s far too dangerous! You know what would happen if anyone discovered your gift!”

“I know, I know, but I’ve thought about it and no one would even know! I won’t tell anyone about it, and if they don’t know I have it then they don’t know how to use it, so it’s useless to them. If I just keep it braided I’ll be completely normal!” You came to sit across from her, hoping it’ll be convincing.

“No absolutely not, it’s much too risky! I have kept you safe for nearly twenty years! I am not stopping now! You’re far too young to understand but this is what’s best for you!” She got up and started to walk away again.

“But it’s not! I’ve never met anyone else! I’ve never had friends or met other people my own age! I’ve never even seen a real man!” You were absolutely desperate.

“Oh a man?! This is about men huh?! So you want to leave the safety of the home I built for you to go whore around for a man?!” She was absolutely furious, beyond cooling down.

“Mother no!” Your face was burning with embarrassment at the very suggestion of sexual activities.

“No truly I understand! You would rather leave this place and be used by men! Drained of your power in one of those Viking camps no doubt! I won’t hear another word, I’m going out for air and your attitude better be gone by the time I get back!” She walked over to the vine, untying it from the wall and setting it into a rustier pulley wheel that would let her down slowly, she was gone just as soon as she’d finished her sentence.

You had no choice but to sit in utter silence and shame. Swallowed by guilt that mother could ever consider you’d do that to her. As much as you wanted to leave and experience the real world, you desperately didn’t want to disappoint your mother or end up somewhere bad. Very quickly you dissolved into regret, backing over to try and undo what’s already been done, planning a way to forgiveness. Finishing the stew was the only way you knew how to start so you got to work, making this the best stew you could ever devise. Having never written the recipe down you had to go solely based on flavor and gut feeling. That was the best way to cook anyway. Once it had been spiced to taste you put the lid on the pot to let it simmer.

Almost immediately you found yourself overrun with anxiety, filled with a need to do something with your hands. To occupy your mind. There really wasn’t much to do in the tower to occupy you enough to erase this from the forefront of your mind. So you opted for the only thing that you could: cleaning. Your started polishing, dusting anything that you could and when there was nothing left you sat and you waited. The silence was absolutely deafening. You’d totally zoned out until you heard the rattling of the pot lid on the stove, snapping your head to it only to see the stew boiling over.

“Shit!” You rushed to turn it off, burning your hand in the process as you cleaned up the mess. Suddenly you were no longer hungry.

Opting to leave the stew on the stove for whenever mother would return you left the kitchen, going to your room as you cradled your hand gently. Tears stung your eyes, threatening to drip through your lashes and you curled up on your bed. Reaching for your braid with your uninsured hand, you gently took the end and rested it over your burned palm, reaching to wipe away some loose tears. Whether the tears were from the pain or from emotional discourse you couldn’t be sure. After drying your tears you closed your injured fingers around the large amount of hair, and began to hum a soft familiar melody. As the melody continued your hair began to glow a brilliant gold, almost glittery in color. Once the shimmer reached your palm, the heat faded and the wound healed. You were able to breathe. You looked to your palm, it was as soft and unharmed as it had been that morning. As it had always been. No scars or leftover pain. Just smooth healthy skin.

You couldn’t be bothered to really prepare for bed. The dress you wore was moveable, the corset easily undone as it tied in the front rather than in the back. Laying back you took a deep breath, closing your eyes momentarily to let go of all the stress that you could. After a minute of peace you pushed yourself up and off the bed, walking over to the dark wood armoire, opening it to look in the mirror, you sighed looking at your dress. There was stew on the navy skirt and what looked like a sizable carrot. You’d have to change to sleep. Lifting the skirt up closer you plucked off the carrot and disposed of it in the nearby waste basket. Returning to the armoire you flipped your braid back over your shoulder and checked the white sleeves of the off the shoulder blouse, slid your hands over the black corset, grabbing the tied strings from the vertex of the sweetheart neckline you untied the knot. Just as you’d finished untying the security knot you heard a loud grinding bang from the lower level. Pausing to listen you grew concerned.

“Mother? Are you alright?” You called gently.

When you didn’t receive a response you dropped the corset strings and left your bedroom, looking over the bannister you were met with the worst sight you could possibly have imagined. A large piece of the stone floor was broken and pushed out of the ground, slid off to the side and two large men climbed out of the dark hole below. Half a million questions filled your head. How was there a space under the floor? How did these men find you? Did they know who you were? There wasn’t time to think, you had to act. Silently and quickly you snuck back into your bedroom, burning out the lamps and climbing into the armoire as best as you could. Tilting your chin up to silence your breathing you listened. Waiting. Thinking. The men were much bigger than you thought a man would be. From what you could make out they dressed in dark clothing. Leather. Worn and hardly taken care of if at all. They were similar heights. One a redhead and the other blonde, both with rugged facial hair. You only had a brief look and the adrenaline pumping through your veins was making it difficult to focus.

“I am never doing that shit again, forty feet of crumbling bricks and thirty feet of rope, you seriously didn’t think that through?!” You could hear them arguing.

“It didn’t look that tall alright? Can we just find the chick and get out of here? I lost my good boots in a poker game with trash panda and if I don’t win them back he’s gonna tear them apart.”

It was clear they were coming for you. The only thing you could do was hope mother came home or that they didn’t see you behind all the other clothing in the armoire. The stairs creeped. Once. Twice. There was only one creaky step. They were both coming up. You held your breath.

“Food on the stove and the lamp in here is still warm. She was here recently.” They made it into your bedroom.

“If I had to guess I’d say she’s still here.” The footsteps stopped. It was silent.

Suddenly, the hem of your skirt was yanked-it had been caught in the door-and then the armoire burst open. The blonde man grabbed your arm as you struggled, ripping you from the small dark space and out into the open. He spun you around, pressing your back to his chest, his left forearm braced across your neckline and gripped your right shoulder. His right hand held a sharp silver blade to your heart.

“Well, well, well, Princess did we catch you at a bad time? These corset strings are so very loose for company.” The blonde man taunted, using the tip of his blade to pull on the cords.

You gripped this forearm, pushing back closer to his chest in an effort to get away from his blade as you struggled.

“P-please just leave me alone, I won’t tell any-anyone.” You stuttered, trying to stay calm the way your mother had taught you.

“We have plans for you, this hair of yours… hear there’s some people willing to pay a pretty penny for just a touch.” The red headed man stroked your braid, you jerked your head away.

“Oh oh oh” the blonde man laughed. “She’s a feisty one, are you sure we have to deliver her so soon? Could be fun…”

“Oh c’mon man don’t be gross he wants her unharmed. Mostly. C’mon just cloth her so we can go. Boots remember??” The red head said, grabbing your wrists and tying them together roughly. He took the dagger from the blonde, continuing to hold it in its position as the blond reached into his pocket.

“No no no no no please please I’ll give you anything you want just leave me alone!” You begged, swerving your head away from the blondes clothed hand as it moved towards your mouth.

“Bitch stop fussing around!” He slid his left forearm up to your throat, both choking you and effectively stabilizing your head long enough to clamp the cloth over your mouth and nose.

It hardly took thirty seconds before your vision started to swim and your vision started to fade to black.

“We’re already late. He’s waiting.” One of the men said as he slipped a cloth bag over your head. Your hearing went out, senses dulled as you gave in the the dark.

#marvel fanfiction #marvel reader insert #reader insert #x reader #bucky x reader series #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky x you #dark!bucky x reader #grey!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Gleam and Glow #bucky Barnes tangled au!#tangled au!#marvel au

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

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To Call Forth Love (Modern!Ivar x OC) Chapter 1

So I recently joined the Vikings fandom (better late than never, right?) and could not get this one-shot out of my head. This is my first time writing for Vikings and writing Ivar. Let me know what you think.

Also a huge shout-out to @saritanotserena for helping me with the moodboard. You are the best, babe!

Words: 4300

Warnings: mild swearing, mild sexual content, mild angst?

Series Masterlist

"I'm going to get something to drink!" Kari yelled into the ear of her friend, Alana, hoping she could hear it over the deafening music blasting from the nearby speakers.

Alana nodded, ignoring the brunette in lieu of the man who had his hands on her hips and cock grinding against her ass.

Without waiting further, Kari squeezed her way through the crowd on the club's dance floor and towards where their table was. For the umpteenth time, she tried to tug down the short, skin-tight black dress over her thighs, unsuccessful in covering the vast amount of skin showing. Even if Alana told her it looked fine and to stop worrying, it still made her personally self-conscious. Right now, she would much rather be at her shared townhouse eating popcorn and binge watching a show or reading one of her new books, comfortable in yoga pants and a soft sweatshirt with preferably no bra. Definitely no bra if she had a choice. But no, she had used up all the valid excuses she could conjure and now had to pay the devil his dues. Or in this case, go out clubbing with her friends.

Quickly, she made her way to the table and plopped down in a chair, reaching for the bottled water she was smart enough to bring this time. She ignored the couple sticking their tongues down each other's throat on the other side of the table as she took a sip of the water. Yes, she had told Alana she needed a drink but mostly she just wanted a break. She never wore heels unless for special occasions and with all the dancing she had been forced to endure amongst the mass of sweaty bodies, her feet and ankles were killing her.

She peeked at her phone, seeing the late hour and wondering if she could use it as an excuse to leave. She knew her friends planned to stay longer, or leave soon with company for the night. Perhaps no one would notice if she snuck away, feigning exhaustion or some illness.

As if sensing her thoughts, a voice called out to her from the other side of the table. "Don't even think about it."

Kari looked up, meeting the narrowed, brown eyes of her friend across the table from her. "Rach…."

"No, don't you, 'Rach' me." She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Kari. "I see you, and you are trying to figure out how to leave. It's not happening. You know the deal."

"Please? It's getting late and there is no one here…"

"Bullshit. Quite trying to make excuses. You agreed to the deal and you can't leave until you fulfill your side of the bargain and you bet your ass I'm watching." She leaned back against her boyfriend, brushing a few strands of blonde hair behind her ear.

Kari grumbled under her breath. "Doubt it. You've been trying to eat each other's faces the whole time."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"What is the deal she agreed to?" Seth asked smugly, arms wrapped around Rachel's waist and laying soft kisses over her exposed shoulders and neck.

"Before Kari leaves tonight, she has to make-out with someone...and not just a quick peck either. Full. On. Snogging." Rachel answered with a mischievous glint in her eyes and a crooked smile.

Kari dropped her face in her hands, groaning. She knew there was a snowball's chance in hell that Rachel would have forgotten about what Kari reluctantly agreed to but still…. she had hoped.

Rachel continued speaking to Seth but Kari could feel those brown eyes on her. "She hasn't kissed anyone since her ex; so Alana, Jasmine and I decided that we needed to take matters into our own hands."

"Her ex... shit, wasn't that like two years ago?"

"Yep." Rachel popped the 'p' loudly. "Now, Kari, you get back on that dance floor and find someone or I will pick them out for you."

Almost giving herself whiplash with how quickly she raised her head back up, Kari stared horrified at her friend.

"You know I would."

"Shit…." Kari mumbled, fiddling with one of the diamond studs in her ear. If there was one ultimate truth in the world, it was that Kari did NOT want any of her friends picking out someone for her to make-out with. The thought alone made her shudder. To say they had different tastes was an understatement. Her friends seemed to prefer the big, Viking-looking, blonds that seemed to enjoy going outside and chopping down trees…. for fun. Her preference was for, well not that. She downed the rest of her water and stood up, tugging down her short dress once again. "I'm going to the bathroom."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you better get back on the floor once you're done. We can be here all night if we need too."

Kari scurried away without a response. She did not actually have to use the bathroom but used the excuse to check her makeup and hair...and hide…. possibly for the rest of the night. Hoping to kill even more time, she took the long way to the bathroom, pointedly looking at the floor to avoid encouraging anyone to approach her.

She stumbled past the short set of stairs leading up to the VIP section, silently cursing her heels. All she wanted to do was kick them off. It was becoming a miracle she had not face-planted yet. Making a mental note to never let Alana choose her attire again, she pressed on, moving down one of the half walls along the raised VIP section.

As if fate sensed her thinking about her loathed heels, it decided to do something about it.

Someone suddenly shoved into her, pushing past her on their way towards somewhere. All the brunette managed to catch a glimpse of was a long, blonde braid and a backless dress. The force was enough to lose her balance on the stupid heels and slam into the wall next to her, her momentum and gravity then yanked her towards the ground. Just as she thought she would at least fall to her knees or kiss the dirty floor, a strong hand grabbed her bare, upper arm, keeping her upright.

She staggered drunkenly for a moment, her hands automatically reaching out to grip the shirt of the person who magically appeared in front of her, and really saving her from utter humiliation. No exaggerations. At all. Utter. Humiliation.

Once her mind refocused on no longer falling to her demise, the first thing she noticed was that whoever was holding her was definitely a man. Not just because the person was taller than her, but the sheer size of the pecks underneath her fisted hands in his shirt and the broad shoulders were a dead giveaway. Even one handed, this person was holding her upright with ease. The second thing she noticed was his scent. Yes, she knew that thought was beyond creepy but her body decided to take notice. Not her fault. Obviously. She just got to enjoy the repercussions. Whatever cologne he was wearing, it should be illegal to wear out in public. It conjured images of a fire in a hearth, bourbon, hot sex under furs and debauchery.

In the next moment, she lifted her gaze, wanting - no, needing to know who this man was. To thank him for saving her. Of course. That was it. Yep. Not to sear his image into her brain to fantasize about later. Not at all.

As her eyes met his, any words of thanks died on her tongue. For whatever working brain cells she had left silenced under his gaze. Staring down at her was the most vivid, gorgeous and terrifying blue pair of eyes that both soothed and scorched under their allure.

He never spoke a word, just stared at her. His hand held onto her upper arm as if worried she was suddenly going to drop.

Later, she would blame it on the combination of his touch, that intense look in his gaze and his cologne that made her act irrationally. So, before her mind could convince her how stupid she was, how reckless this was, how outside of her normal behavior she was acting…

...she rose up slightly on her toes and kissed him.

His lips were surprisingly soft against hers but unmoving. Slowly she retracted, hurt by his inaction but honestly not surprised. It was probably for the best. This idea was a failure from the start. She did not even know the guy, he just saved her from falling. She should have said 'thank you' and walked away…. not…. not kissed him! Opening her eyes to meet his now painfully hardened gaze, it only confirmed her stupidity. Before she could apologize and retreat to hide away from the world for at least the next century, he spoke.

"Are you drunk?"

His abrupt, harsh question startled her. Her answer tumbled out of her mouth before her mind could filter the proper response.

"What?...no, I've had like two drinks but that's it...wait. Oh gods! Was my kiss that bad? Shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll just...sorry." She tried to pull away from him, face flushed from embarrassment. What had she been thinking? This was why she never just made-out with random guys. Whatever self-esteem she had evaporated beneath his piercing gaze. Her ex had called her frigid but this….

His hand tightened ever so slightly on her arm, not enough to hurt but to certainly impede her desire to run away. His eyes bored into hers as if trying to read all the secrets of her soul. It was now, caught in this trap of his gaze, that she noticed the predatory glint in his eyes. She wondered if this was what a rabbit felt like while staring down a wolf, too frightened to move away. Well in her case, she was probably more of a hamster than rabbit. At least rabbits were fast and could try to hide. A hamster had no ability to outrun or outsmart a wolf. And everything about him screamed predator.

"Come." He commanded, releasing her arm and took a step to the side.

"Wha...what?"

He cocked his head to the side slightly, eyes narrowing. "Come. I am not through with you."

A sharp shiver ran down her spine at the severe scrutiny sent her way but for some reason found herself agreeing. "Ohhh….um, ok." Her friends had wanted her to make-out with someone right?

She followed him, carefully ogling him from behind. The nice button-down he wore only accentuated the broadness of his chest and shoulders, plus with the sleeves rolled up and those toned forearms on show, he could have easily been just walking out of a photoshoot for some fashion magazine. Even the dark wash jeans and white Adidas sneakers could not deter from his overall striking appearance. His dark hair was long on top and shaved on the sides, something she had never seen before but it gave him a serious look instead of it being comical.

Surprise coursed through her when he started up the few steps leading to the VIP section. Somewhere she had never been nor expected to go. Only people with money or connections were allowed to be in there. She wondered which one of the two he was. It was also now as she followed him that she happened to notice the slight limp in his gait which drew her attention to the braces around his legs. Her mind wandered with questions as to why he needed braces. Had he been in an accident recently? Or surgery? Should he even be up walking?

Once they ascended the few steps, passing the bouncer at the top of the stairs who only gave her a passing glance before returning his eyes to the rest of the club, she continued to trail him to a short 'L' shaped couch with a low table in front of it. There were short half walls around all of the arrangements giving the illusion of privacy for those seated on a couch. Glancing around quickly, she could hear laughter and see some heads over the partitions but no one seemed to have paid any attention to her and the stranger she followed.

The man dropped down unceremoniously onto the black leather couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. Immediately, his intimidating gaze turned on her and she could not help but thickly swallow at the pure wicked look that sent shivers down her spine. Without a word, he held his hand out, beckoning her closer.

For the rest of her life, she would always question why she moved closer, why she took his hand, why she let him slowly guide her to straddling his lap.

All she knew was in the moment….it felt right.

"Good girl." He breathed out; rough, calloused hands held her hips steady over him. His fingers skimmed the hemline of her dress, now indecently high, almost no longer even covering her ass.

Her rational side screamed at her, reminding her she never did this, that she did not know this man. That if her family ever found out, gods forbid, they would probably disown her and not care if it left her starving in the streets due to her wanton behavior. Though their opinions no longer truly mattered in her life.

But her emotional side softly whispered that for once, to just give in, to let someone else be in control, to revel in the pleasure his touch brought forth. To throw caution and fidelity to the wind and enjoy life for once before she locked away her heart again.

Tipping her head forward, she pressed her lips to his once again. Where he had been unresponsive to her prior kiss, this time his lips slammed against hers, dominating and controlling. It sucked the very air from her lungs. Right now though, he could happily own all the oxygen she ever needed if he continued to kiss her like this. His hands slid to grab her ass, coaxing her even closer and drawing a needy moan from her. As her mouth opened, his tongue slipped in to explore as if he owned it. He kissed as if he was making love to her mouth and giving her a hint of what he would be like in bed.

Eventually she yanked her mouth from his, chest heaving and desperate for air. His head dropped to her chest and she gasped when she felt his tongue traced the line of cleavage her dress exposed.

"Fuck, you taste amazing." He whispered, practically branding the words into her skin as his lips tasted her. Before she could move or question him, his tongue was back on her exposed skin. This time it slid up from the hint of the valley between her breasts up her chest and neck to end with him sucking just below her earlobe. A whine, or was it a purr, was all her brain could handle, so overwhelmed with sensations she had never experienced before. Sure she had been kissed before but it had never felt like this. It all felt so…. tame compared to what this man elicited out of her. As if her prior understanding of fire was only looking at a lit match; while now she could only stare, completely absorbed by the raging bonfire that threatened to touch the sky with its unending flames.

Her hands shifted from grasping his shoulders to keep her upright under his onslaught to gripping his face and forcing his lips back to hers. A heat continued to build in her belly, an inferno that she wanted to dive into without fear or care of being burned. Her hips ground against him, feeling his hardened length between her legs only spurred her on.

"Fuck, kitten, keep going. Ride my cock." He growled into her mouth.

Before she realized it, the waves of pleasure and heat she had been riding exploded. She ripped her mouth away from his, head thrown back in a silent scream. She could feel his mouth move back to her exposed skin, kissing and sucking as he continued to grind under her. Her mind felt shattered into a million pieces but instead of frightening her, she felt pure bliss. Eventually she came back down from her high, her mind whirling with what just happened.

"What…." She licked her lips, wondering why her mouth was suddenly so dry. "What, um, was that?"

"What are you talking about?" He asked smugly as he placed open mouth kisses along her chest and neck, never stopping his ministrations.

"Um, that feeling… I just...wow…."

He stopped to tilt his head slightly and meet her gaze. "Have you never had an orgasm before?"

Her eyes widened as realization swarmed her. Hastily, she tried to scramble off his lap but one of his hands grabbed the back of her neck, while the other still gripped her hip, forcing her to remain on his lap. His eyes scoured her, pupils blown wide but it was the dark, heated look in them that caused a whimper to slip from her lips.

"You never have…" he murmured, in something between surprise and a dangerous, boyish glee. Mumbling something in a foreign language, his wicked gaze never released her from looking away. One of his fingers returned to tracing her cleavage, teasing her occasionally as it dipped between her breasts only to continue its path. She could feel the heat slowly building in her core again, but if it was due to his touch or the devious smirk he wore, she was unsure. Never more had she felt like prey being toyed with by a hungry predator.

"Are you a virgin, my pretty kitten? Mmm?" He asked in such a filthy voice, it should never be allowed outside of a bedroom.

She whined, "please…"

Agonizingly slow, he leaned closer to her once again, his mouth just hovering over hers with a mischievous smirk that proved he knew what he was doing to her.

"Kari!"

She jerked at the unexpected calling of her name. Turning to look over her shoulder, she could see Rachel and Alana both standing next to the bouncer at the top of the steps into the VIP section. Rachel was staring her down while Alana's blue eyes bounced back and forth between Kari and the man under her.

"It's time to go." Rachel yelled at her over the loud music, still easily heard this far away.

Kari turned back to...to him. "I need to leave."

He nuzzled the crook of her neck, brushing her hair out of the way, before whispering into her ear. His hands never relinquished their hold on her. "Answer my question first."

"I... I need to go. I'm sorry. Please. I just…"

His hand trailed around her neck so he could grip under her jaw, forcing her face back up to meet his. His vivid blue eyes covetous in their intensity. "Answer. Me." His breath ghosted over her lips.

"Yes." The single word came out in a just barely heard whisper.

A hesitation, a pause, as if both were frozen in the moment due to her confession. Then his mouth slanted over hers in a greedy kiss, as if claiming her through sheer willpower and his ardent touch. Unable to help herself, she moaned into the kiss. Her hands gripped his shirt as if clinging for her life.

"Stay." He whispered against her lips.

"I can't…"

"I'll bring you home. We aren't finished yet." As if to emphasize his point, he rolled his hips under her, his hardened length pressing against her wet core.

"Please, I'm sorry. I want to stay, I promise. I've never…. I…. I just need to go. I'm sorry."

Deliberately slow, his grip on her loosened. First the hand on her neck, his thumb caressed her pulse point before dropping next to him on the couch. The hand on her hip glided up her body leaving a trail of fire in its wake, up to her arm and down it to her hand still clutching his shirt. Gently, almost reverently, he entwined their fingers. His blue eyes stared into hers as he helped guide her off his lap to stand before him. The lust was still evident in his gaze but now she noticed something underneath, something hidden by the ferocity. Yet she could not name it. Though it made her want to pull his head to her chest and just hold him, let whatever the unnamed emotion there bleed from him and comfort him.

"KARI!"

She jolted at the frantic call of her name, pulled away from gazing into his eyes.

"Can I see you again?" He quietly asked, running his thumb along the back of her hand.

"I hope so." She smiled gently then stepped away, before she did something stupid like give the man her number. That would be too forward for her. Turning her back to the man, she walked towards her friends.

Once she reached them, Alana slipped her arm through hers and they started to follow Rachel down to the main floor. At the last second the brunette looked over her shoulder to glimpse him one more time. His elbows were on his knees, body leaned forward and eyes glued to her as if trying to commit everything about her to memory.

For the briefest of seconds when their eyes connected, his gorgeous blue meeting her blue-green, she considered returning to him. To see what happened next so she never would have to wonder. To try and label what lay behind the dangerous glint in his eyes that she glimpsed.

Then her steps brought her to the main floor and away from his piercing gaze. She was too much of a coward to give in and taste the forbidden fruit he so freely offered. Even if a part of her wanted too. Her family rules seared into her brain since birth would never allow her too.

Quickly, the three women headed towards the exit. Just before they reached it, Rachel directed them to a semi-secluded alcove.

"What the hell was that?" The angry blonde demanded, turning on Kari with a vengeance.

"What?"

"No, don't you fucking 'what' me! We told you to make-out with someone, not plan on getting fucking murdered!"

Kari almost stumbled back at the venom in Rachel's voice. Her eyes bounced back and forth between her friends, trying to understand what she obviously was missing. "What are you talking about? Murdered? He was nice…. I thought."

"Nice? Oh, he was nice?" Rachel stared at her for a long moment in shock. With a huff, she pinched the bridge of her nose as she harshly asked her next question. "Do you have any idea who that was?"

"Um, no... we...he didn't say his name."

"Gods, you are so stupid sometimes."

Alana cut in, before Rachel could continue to berate. Her doll-like face ranging in expressions from concern to pity and fear. "Kari," she spoke as if explaining a simple matter to a child, her blue eyes pleading and intent on her face, "that was Ivar."

"Huh?" Kari stated, dumbly, mind not fully processing what that meant.

"You know…. Ivar Lothbrok…." Alana gave a pained smile, tugging on one of her large hoop earrings under her blonde, pixie cut,"....one of the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok."

The sudden knowledge felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head, freezing any semblance of warmth she may still have carried from their interaction. "What? I didn't…. are you sure?"

"Well the braces on his crippled legs should have been a damn giveaway." Rachel practically snarled.

Alana spoke back up, laying her hand on Kari's shoulder. "I know you haven't been here long but the Lothbroks have a…. reputation…. especially Ivar, for being, well, um, brutal. We just want you to be safe." She sighed and peeked over at Rachel. "Let's get out of here. Everyone else is waiting outside."

"Ok." Was all Kari could say as her mind whirled with this new information. She followed behind them like a lost puppy, too absorbed in her thoughts to pay attention to where they were going. She could faintly hear Rachel harshly muttering something under her breath as they continued.

She knew who the Lothbroks were but kept that information to herself. Honestly, she probably knew more about that family than her friends did. She had listened to her uncle curse them enough times she had grown to associate their surname with a one-way ticket to the gates of Hell. If mortal enemies were a thing, her family and the Lothbroks would be that.

Her thoughts though stayed focused on a pair of brilliant, piercing blue eyes, soft, dark hair and a voice that called something out in her. There certainly was an aura of danger that hung over him like a shadow of doom plus with the predatory, wicked glint in his eyes, Kari could understand what they meant by dangerous. It was the other look her mind continued to replay over and over. Now away from him, she could pinpoint what it was. Vulnerability. When he asked her to stay- in anyone else she might have mistaken it for begging- that confidence he wore as a mask slid away just for a moment and allowed her to peek underneath. No wonder she wanted to crawl into his lap and hold him close. A part of her yearned to turn around and rush back to him to do that very thing. But her feet kept moving, following her friends.

She was not stupid, naïve maybe but not stupid. They wanted her to stay away from him. She could read between the lines well enough. Though if she encountered him again, she was unsure if she would be able to stay away…. or would want too.

#vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #modern ivar #ivar x ofc #ivars heathen army #ivar romance #modern!ivar #modern!ivar x oc #ivar the boneless #to call forth love #mzwrites

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brywrites · 4 years

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Flight Risk V

Summary: An answer to the age old CM question, “who’s flying the plane?” And the story of a pilot and a profiler. Part V: In which important words are shared in a bookstore and on a plane.

(Series Masterlist) ( Previous | Next )

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She arrives slightly out of breath to the bookstore-café. “Sorry, it’s really not like me to be late!”

Reid offers her a smile as she jumps into the order line beside him. “It’s okay, I know.”

“Yeeqin locked herself out of the apartment again so I had to run back to open it for her,” she sighs, shaking her head. A soft flush colors her cheeks and he’s not sure whether it’s from running or from embarrassment. Or perhaps she too is as nervous as he is to be meeting here. Because this means stepping over some sort of unspoken line, it means something more real. Whatever it is. Reid still isn’t sure what this is, but he knows that there is something about her smile that makes his chest tighten and that there are few people he looks forward to talking to as much as Y/N.

He realizes that aside from that evening in the hotel lobby, he’s never seen her wearing something other than her pilot’s uniform. She sits before him in a floral-print sundress and a bomber jacket that is ever so slightly askew, exposing the skin of her left shoulder.

“Yeeqin is your roommate?” he asks.

“Yeah. And I love her to bits, but I swear even though I’m the pilot, she’s the one whose head is always in the clouds.” And it strikes him that for someone who loves the sky so much, Y/N is incredibly down-to-earth. “But enough about me,” she laughs. “How are you doing, Doctor?”

Her use of his title always seems to make his heartbeat quicken no matter how many times he tries to ignore it. “I’m good. Really good. It’s, uh, nice to be able to see you without there being a case.”

“It is nice, isn’t it? Knowing that talking with you doesn’t mean someone is in imminent danger. I can feel a lot less guilty about enjoying it.” He wants so badly to ask what she means by that – if she enjoys seeing him the way friends do, or if she enjoys being with him a little bit more than that – but he’s too afraid to know the answer. Afraid it might be less and he’ll feel disappointed. Afraid it might be more and he won’t be – because what is he even hoping for here? What is he supposed to be hoping for, if anything at all?

They order drinks – a mocha with he pours far too much sugar into, and chai latte she carefully sprinkles cinnamon in. They walk through the bookstacks together, drinks in hand, browsing and chatting as they go. She tells him how she fell in love with The Little Prince as a child and how she found the idea of being a pilot fascinating, even then. He tells her about the books his mother used to read to him when he was little, Medieval texts and Proust and The Canterbury Tales.

“That’s pretty intense reading for a kid,” she says.

“Well I can read 20,000 words per minute. And the eidetic memory helps.”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “Right, our certified genius. You know I’m jealous. I don’t think I’ll ever have enough time to read all the things I want to read. But you? You can read anything you want.”

“These days it’s mostly casefiles,” he says ruefully.

“Good thing we’re here then. We’ll have to find you some lighter words to keep in that beautiful brain of yours.”

It’s so easy with her. He finds himself telling her about his mother, about how she used to be a professor of literature until her disease got worse. And when he explains she has schizophrenia, she doesn’t give him a look of pity. As if he’s broken somehow. Her eyes soften and she says, “It has to be hard, caring for a parent. You must love her a lot. And I’m sure she’s really proud to have a son like you to carry on all her best stories.”

She tells him how her parents weren’t exactly thrilled with her choice of career, but how she’s certain there’s nothing else that would make her as happy as flying, and how for two months after she moved to DC her only friends in the city were her cat, Amelia, and Yeeqin because she traveled too much for work to put down roots. “I guess at some point you have to decide whether you want adventure or stability, and I think I’m always trying to walk that line. I’m not ready to give up what I love, but I don’t want to let everything else in life pass me by, you know?”

And he does. He knows that the longer he’s at the BAU the more unlikely it is he’ll have the time to teach, to build a family, to pursue other dreams. But at the same time there’s something about the work he just doesn’t know how to step away from.

They sit in chairs in the travel section while she opens a book of maps to point out some of her favorite places she’s flown to, and the places she still wants to go. “Every year I tell myself I’ll find a way to get to Iceland or South Africa, and every year they seem to pass me by.”

“Did you know that Iceland was the last place on earth to be settled by humans? I mean, the last to be permanently settled, when it was accidentally discovered by Vikings.”

“I had no idea,” she says, and something about her smile makes him want to tell her more.

“It’s also an incredibly literary country. Statistically, one in ten Icelanders will publish a book in their lifetime, and books are such popular gifts that many are published right before Christmas. There’s actually a term for it, in Icelandic, jólabókafló∂, the ‘Christmas book flood.’”

She laughs and for a second Reid wonders if he’s rambled too much, but she says, “How on earth do you know that?” and he relaxes.

“Just reading a lot. I… like knowing things.” Anything could be useful in the field, at any time. Or in a bookstore, in the company of a woman whose smile feels like a prize he just wants to keep earning.

“Do you ever want to go there?”

“I don’t know. I never really travelled much before the BAU. Actually the first flight I took was to DC for a job interview. I was terrified so I read three different handbooks on aviation and aerodynamics just so I could feel more comfortable. Understanding it helped me to feel less scared. And now I fly so much I don’t really even think about it.”

Y/N closes the book and puts it back on the shelf. “One of these days we’ve got to get you on a plane for pleasure rather than business,” she says.

They stand together in the checkout line, Y/N with a copy of Jonathan Livingston Seagull, and Reid with a copy of Wind, Sand, and Stars which came highly recommended by her. As they step outside, the sky opens into a downpour. He grimaces, already searching in his bag for his umbrella, but looks up to see her standing beyond the awning, arms outstretched, wearing a grin as the rain hits her face.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

She spins a circle. “Dancing in the rain,” she laughs. “I love the rain, but I don’t really get to enjoy it when I’m flying because it makes it so much more stressful. I’ve got to focus on what I’m doing. But on the ground I can just let it be. And appreciate the gray sky and the sound of the rain.” She steps back under the awning to join him. “But it will be a damp walk home without my umbrella. I totally forgot it at home.”

“I have one,” he says, and then adds, without thinking, “I could walk you home.” She raises her eyebrows and he worries he’s stepped over that invisible line. “I mean, if it’s not too far and you don’t mind, but I also don’t have to I just thought maybe-”

“I’d love that,” she says. “Thanks, Reid.” And so he opens his umbrella and she squeezes close to him beneath it. They walk the few blocks to her apartment, and all the while he is keenly aware of her elbow against his and her shoulder brushing his arm. And he doesn’t mind one bit. All too soon they reach the steps of her building and he’s not quite ready to say goodbye and end this magical moment where there is no danger and no impending departure and no work to be done. Just the two of them and stories shared and all the words they could want as the rain falls around them. So close under the umbrella, she looks up at him, as if she’s trying to find just the rights words and he can’t help but be distracted by the way her jacket is falling off her shoulder again and how it looks so lovely in a way he can’t quite make sense of and he’s thinking that maybe if he took just another step closer they’d be able to fill this silence with something –

But then the silence is broken by the abrupt sound of a window opening followed by someone shouting, “Y/N!”

They step apart, startled, and glance up at the gray sky. From the second story, a pale woman with sleek black hair pokes her head out of a window. A trail of smoke exits the open window, mingling with the rain. “Thank goodness you’re back! I burned the chicken, so we’re gonna have to order out for dinner!”

Y/N sighs. “That would be Yeeqin,” she says. Then raising her voice to call back up she says, “Give me just a minute and we can figure out carryout!”

“Hey is that the FBI guy you were t-”

“I’ll be right there!” Y/N yells. The window closes, and she turns back to him, looking a little more flustered. The moment is gone. “I should get up there before she burns the apartment down.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“This was really nice though.” She makes no move to leave.

“Maybe we can do it again sometime?”

“I’d like that, Reid.”

And his last name sounds so formal. He doesn’t want formal, not with her. “Uh, you can – you can call me Spencer, you know.” They stand there for just a beat and he wants so badly to reach out for her hand. But he doesn’t.

Then she says, “I’ll see you soon, Spencer.” Y/N walks into her apartment, and he’s still replaying the sound of her voice saying his name in his mind, so focused on trying to commit this whole afternoon to memory that it takes him two blocks of walking before he realizes he’s going the wrong way.

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They’re waiting for Kate and Morgan to arrive, but the rest of the team is already anxious. She and Arthur can hear them talking as they prepare the cockpit.

“All I’m saying is given the reports, I just don’t know if flying is the safest way to get there,” Rossi says.

“It’s the only way we’re getting all the way to Colorado in time,” Hotch responds.

“We are a pretty small plane though, and whatever happened took down a large passenger plane,” JJ counters. “What if this is a terrorist attack?” Beside her Arthur tenses, but he says nothing.

Rossi says, “On 9/11 we grounded flights to be safe. How do we know this won’t happen again?” Arthur hastily puts on his headphones and busies himself with the controls.

“We just have to hope.”

Y/N knows it’s not her place, but their conversation is clearly unnerving Arthur. She can’t just stand by while her friend and captain is uncomfortable. Before he can stop her, she steps into the cabin where the BAU sits.

“You can do more than hope,” she says. The gathered faces turn to look at her. “I don’t mean to be out of line, Agent Rossi, but I overheard your concerns. Captain Dobson and I are good at what we do. And he’s one of the best pilots I’ve ever worked with. I know this can be scary but I promise that you’re in good hands with us. You trust your team with your lives because you trust them to do a good job. I’m asking that you do the same for us. We may not be a part of the team, but we always get you home safe. This is our job, and we do it well.”

“Of course you’re a part of the team,” Spencer says. Everyone’s gaze flickers to him, but he’s looking right at her. The air feels warmer with those hazel eyes focused on her. “You’re with us for every case. And you’re right. You’ve always kept us safe. We need to trust them,” he adds, glancing at the rest of his team.

“I’m sorry,” Rossi says. “I didn’t mean to insult either of you.”

“No offense taken,” she says. But she wants to be sure any tension is cleared from the air. “But uh, for what it’s worth we’ve restocked the whisky in the minibar if that’ll help you feel a little more relaxed on today’s flight.” The older agent gives her a smile, and she knows all is well. She steals once last glance at Spencer, hoping she can read the gratitude in her eyes, before ducking back into the cockpit. Soon enough the rest of the team arrives. Some quick communication with the tower, and Geff is up in the air again. They fly in silence through the clear blue sky, and it’s not until they’ve reached cruising altitude that Arthur speaks.

“I was flying that day.” Y/N glances at him. She doesn’t have to ask him to specify the date. She simply waits for him to continue. “I flew for United back then. I was a first officer. We were flying from London to Newark and halfway across the Atlantic someone called in over air-to-air telling us there had been a terrorist attack. Next thing we knew we were receiving orders to land in Canada. This tiny town in the middle of nowhere called Gander. There were 37 other planes on the tarmac. We sat there for 12 hours while the RCMP inspected every jet before we could deplane. And we had to tell the passengers what happened. We were there for five days. They said we doubled the population of the town.”

“What was it like?” she asks.

“We were terrified. We had no idea if our plane was at risk of being hijacked. We hardly knew what was happening or why. And we had to try to keep 200 passengers calm. Not to mention there was no way to know if any of our friends had been flying the planes that were used. But it was strange,” he says staring out at the sky. “Despite all of that fear and grief, we were surrounded by some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. They fed us, housed us, gave us clothes. They brought us out to pubs and held dinners and parties and did everything they could to make us feel welcome. Seven thousand strangers from around the world, and this little town never hesitated to help us and never asked for anything in return. It was incredible.

“It was actually a little sad to say goodbye. But when we finally flew back into Newark we saw the devastation. Ground Zero was still burning. It was awful. People had flyers up for loved ones they hadn’t heard from. And for a while, people stopped flying. Everyone was too scared to be in the air.” She remembered being in college at the time. The shock and the sorrow. The anger – the day her friend went to her work-study job at the library and found her desk defaced with Islamophobic hate speech. And the fear that seemed almost palpable. Students afraid to fly home for the holidays or to travel abroad. Flying had always seemed so magical, but suddenly a plane had become a weapon.

“My friend was the first officer on Flight 93. We were close. And I know he would have done anything to protect that plane and its passengers. I know all of those pilots would have. Any pilot would. It’s our job. That day always reminds me of the friend I lost. And the moment that someone turned the pure joy of flying into something dangerous. But at the same time, I’ll always remember the kindness that Gander gave us when we needed it most.”

She tries to picture the Captain stranded in Gander, surrounded by kind Newfoundlanders in plaid, waiting for a world that has stopped turning to begin again. It’s impossible to imagine what he must have felt. But she’s grateful he’s willing to tell her about it.

“You’re impulsive, Y/L/N,” Dobson continues. She flinches, startled by the sudden change of subject and the words he’s chosen. “Speaking to Agent Rossi like that was out of line. But you did it out of kindness. I want to thank you for that.”

“What?” What she did earlier is exactly the sort of thing he would usually reprimand her for or lecture her about. But he doesn’t at all seem disappointed in her.

“You need to think things through,” he concedes, “but I know you don’t take such actions out of pride or spite. You do it because your heart is in the right place. You’re kind. And that’s a very good thing to be.” He clears his throat. “Although I do wish you’d let your head take the lead more often.”

She smiles. “Thank you, sir.” The sky is clear all around them. Their passengers in the back are quiet. However scary the world may be, this moment in this plane, flying up there still feels magical.

After a pause, Arthur says, “Betty White and Rebecca Black.” And the soul-baring has passed. Another one of their in-flight verbal games is afoot. People who should be arch-nemeses but aren’t.

“Freddie Mercury and Bruno Mars,” she counters.

“Vivienne Westwood and Clint Eastwood.”

It takes her several minutes to come up with, “Ken Burns and John Waters.”

“Damn, that’s good,” Arthur says. And so they pass the rest of the flight attempting to find all the pairs they can. Soon enough they’re landing at Durango La-Plata’s small county airport. The team deplanes and she and Arthur go about cleaning the cockpit and cabin. They grab their own respective go-bags and say farewell to Geff. It surprises her however, to see that the team is still there, evidently waiting for Bureau SUVs to arrive judging by the way Hotch keeps looking towards the road. But Spencer is standing away from the rest of the group, bouncing on the soles of his feet near the jet stairs. Dobson gives her a glance, eyebrows raised, and says he’ll meet her at the door to catch a cab together.

“Hey,” Spencer says.

“Hey, yourself.” She pulls her go-bag up on her shoulder, feeling a little self-conscious suddenly. The cool Colorado air has her grateful to be wearing a blazer. “Um, I wanted to thank you,” she tells him. “For what you said earlier. You didn’t have to do that, but I’m happy you stood up for us.”

Spencer rubs the back of his neck. “Of course. And I meant what I said. You and Captain Dobson are a part of this team. I know we don’t always show it, but we’re really grateful for both of you. I just want you to know that we notice. And we care. I care.”

There is an unspoken weight to those two words that hangs between them as she meets his eyes. She wants to ask him exactly what he means by that – exactly how much he cares and whom for and in what way. But before she can, Morgan calls for Spencer to join them. Two black SUVs are ready to take them away.

“I’d better go,” he says.

“I know. Be safe out there, Doctor.”

“I will. You, too. I’ll see you soon.” And then he’s gone. She joins Arthur on the curbside and moments later they’re climbing into a taxi together. Arthur is on the phone with his boyfriend to let him know they’ve landed safely. Y/N stares out the window at the tall trees and the clear sky and thinks that ‘soon’ can’t possibly come soon enough.

#flight risk #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #brywrites #criminal minds

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dragonbabezee · 4 years

Text

Fictional Crush Series No.7

Have we made it to the 90′s yet? We have!

What’s this you say? The Outlander series didn’t premier until 2014? Well! There just happens to be an antiquated technology called books in with this particular tale was first created.

Let me set the scene. It’s 1993. I’m at the library with my dad. I feel like I’ve read the entire YA section, and I’ve run out of David Eddings and Anne McCaffery books to read. I complain to my dad that I have sucked this library dry. He reaches into the Returned Today Shelf of unsorted books and grabs one at random. “Here, you haven’t read this yet.” It was this, a first edition copy of Outlander:

Perhaps he though it was an historical novel set in the highlands. It kind of is...?

To prove to him that plucking ugly books at random off the shelf was no was to pick a quality read, I read it. First came intrigue, then delight, then fascination and compulsion, then welling tides of love and lust, and the feels! So many feels!

For those very few who are still unfamiliar with the Outlander universe, it’s a genre-bending book and series, especially the first three books, combining historical fiction, time travel, romance, blood, gore, sexual violence, medical ickiness, touches of mythical fantasy and magic, mystery, and a big slabbing helping of hot sexy sex.

https://www.deviantart.com/aryundomiel/art/the-heart-asks-pleasure-first-181601743

Oh, and this hunk of red-blooded, red-haired Scot!

That means “I am ready” for everyone who doesn’t read French or hasn’t read the book. I was 15. I was ready. My parents may have disagreed if they had known what was behind that twee bookcover.

James Alexander Malcolm McKenzie Fraser, Jamie to some, and JAMMF to the old school fandom. Oh course, now we have Sam Heughan to envision Jamie as, but back in the day we used a read words off a page and picture Jamie et al in our minds. I don’t think they did a bad job of casting Jamie. Sam is of course, too short, and his hair is not red enough, but I give it a pass.

What makes Jamie Fraser a worthy subject of a lasting fictional crush that rocked my world? He is an enlightened and modern thinker of the Enlightenment era, meaning that he does still kinda believe in witches and faeries, but also in science, and can eventually be persuaded to not beat his wife for wrongdoing (after a knife to the throat). He is a soldier, a mercenary, an expert swordsman, can ride any horse, even a demonic stallion that no one else can master, a farmer, a landlord, a leader of men, a student of science and progress, a virgin at the beginning of the first book, and a sex-god by the end of it.

Packaged in a 6 foot 6 Viking-esque warrior’s body, like a red-haired, blue-eyed demon set on Earth to sway our time-travelling heroine Claire off the path of marital fidelity. It could be said that he is the ultimate Gary Sue. He does have flaws though, mostly pertaining to pride and being a man of his day, even if he is a progressive one. He is the prototype that launched a thousand Highlander romance novels.

The most singularly swoonworthy thing about Jamie though is how much he loves his woman. The end.

https://www.deviantart.com/ellaine/art/Blood-and-Bone-567354322

https://www.deviantart.com/ellaine/art/Wild-strawberries-576708467

You want more detail? Oh, fine, SPOILERS AHEAD.

He will save his wife from his worst and most feared enemy, armed only with an unloaded pistol, even though he thinks she’s probably an English spy bent on turning him and his folk as traitors to the crown.

https://www.deviantart.com/lehanan/art/Outlander-Take-your-hands-off-my-wife-486871484

He will single-handedly rescue her from the midst of a witch trial that is in the process of condemning her, even though he’s fairly sure she really is a witch.

He will trade his soul and his body to keep her alive. He will believe the insane truths she tells him, and based on them, betray his kin and his King. What impressionable young hetro woman doesn’t want that level of devotion from her man?

At the opening of the book, Jamie has already been through a lot - imprisonment and two disfiguring floggings, exile, the soldiers life. near starvation, serious head injury, family intrigue, the death of both his parents....and he’s only 22. And yet, Jamie is still fairly optimistic character, aside for when he or his wife are getting tortured, raped, nearly killed etc. He’s not one to wallow unnecessarily in his Man Pain. Until he is, and then grab the popcorn and watch Claire drain the pool.

While we’re here, I’d like to point out a few unexpected treats and differences that I got from the show that I didn’t get from the books.

1) Jamie’s knees

2) The flogging and several other violent scenes that were disturbing enough in the books became Extremely Uncomfortable and Upsetting Viewing. If you’ve seen the show or read the books you probably know what scenes I am talking about.

3) they didn’t hold back on the sex scenes. Many gifs from the various scenes would get this post removed from Tumblr. Many were so hot I was blushing whilst watching it alone. DO NOT WATCH WITH YOUR PARENTS.

I have read all the books of course, though I mainly concentrated on the first one here, the one that spawned my crush. IT was a couple of years before I got my hands on books 2 and 3, and the fourth one hadn’t been written yet (I did get to go to a book signing and have my copy of Drums of Autumn signed by Diana Gabadon, Herself!). My parents remembered my love for the series, unfortunately, and tried watching the TV when it came out. My dad finally saw the error of plucking a book at random from a shelf to give to his 15 year old daughter to read.

#fictional crush series #Fictional Crush #jamie fraser #outlander #jammf

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fablecore · 3 years

Note

idk if youve read this, but youd probably like the Tales Of Earthsea series by Ursula K LeGuinn?? it's kind of like the oceanic-island-based world of One Piece and Oda's uncomplicated but thoughtful (or sometimes thoughtful, from Oda, i mean..) sentence/story structures meets Lord Of The Rings/Simarillian's content (though there isn't as much of a focus on vocabulary and root-words like his). Earthsea is deep and overarching in all its magic and world-building and story arcs in a similar way as Tolkien, but LeGuinn doesn't try to make her work academic (actually, she originally made Earthsea a children's book. a single children's book. she picked up and dropped the series on/off as she went "okay, im done with that. [a decade later] ...actually, i have another idea" so every book is pretty self-contained in Questions and Threads and whatnot, tho reading it in order is def the most ideal way to experience it since it mostly follows one specific character as he ages as well as the people he meets as he goes along). also, parts of it reminds me of Witch Hat Atelier too, especially in Earthsea's focus on "true names" to WHA's ink; there's something there, in the spellmaking mechanics (and therefore in the world-building) between these two properties that are childhood friends holding hands

it's also a cast that's almost entirely people of color. almost everyone mentioned is a dark-skinned person, which the exception of some faceless characters-- like in the viking-like raid that happens EARLY, EARLY in Book One: The Wizard Of Earthsea, the pillagers are described as pale-faced, i think

i looked in your GoodReads and i didnt see it in your fantasymyth section or your ghiblifeels section (since Earthsea did get very clumsily made into a Ghibli movie. STEVEM has a great video about the adapation process on YouTube, without being unkind to the movie, if youre interested. but yeah. very little of that movie is what LeGuinn wrote, and definitely NOT in the same way as Howl's Moving Castle's movie and book are very different). so i thought id mention it to you

just as a heads up tho, there is a weird instance in book one where LeGuinn says "magic is only for boys" and everyone in-text validates this, for the most part. but then you can see LeGuinn kind of go "waiT, GIRLS CAN DO ANYTHING TOO" and, instead of retconning, she goes and talks about sexism as female magic-users start to pioneer their careers in the book. but thats later, thats not in book one. but yeah, you can see where a lot of fantasy (esp Harry Potter) was just as inspired by her as they were by Tolkien (and she didnt have to write in a super technical-and-academic style to do it! ha!!)

but yeah!! it's a really good book series that i think you would have a lot of fun with, and would find it easier to read (without feeling like its talking down to you). i think the ending of book one will especially inspire you. its a beautiful series, full of beautiful world-buidling and delightfully kind twists sprinkled throughout here and there with some really Well Nailed endings (just remember more contemporary stuff was inspired by her; and that, while she was writing, what she was writing was considered novel and new. so anything that feels really played-out for contemporary readers is because people read her new ideas and started copying certain aspects until they became something of a dead horse). if you havent read it yet, i hope you enjoy it. and if you have read it, i hope you enjoy the reminder of it's existance ♡

:,O omg YES i have read a wizard of earthsea before!! but it was ages ago, i really should read it again! ah i haven't seen the ghibli film and have no plans to.. but the book was so good. the interesting thing is, le guin's themes still feel new, at least to me. like a lot of authors have copied what was very shallow about earthsea, but they totally failed to grasp what made the ending so iconic and ged so iconic. like i think when people approach earthsea, they pay the most attention to the action and adventure and le guin's philosophy goes completely over their heads. from what i remember the writing was just a little too dry for my tastes, i'm more drawn to books that are gratuitously indulgent with hedonism, but it's been a very long time since i read earthsea so i will try to reread it soon. thank you for reminding me! ♡

#letters #shwarmi #literature

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bonniebird · 5 years

Text

Kitten!Viking (Part Three)

Ivar x Reader

Requested by Anon

Part One

Part Two

The clothing you ordered Ivar arrived and he was less than grateful. “This is awful.” He commented yet again.

“Well there isn’t a shopping section for magic kitten vikings.” You snapped at him. He rolled his eyes and glanced at his brothers who were snoozing on the sofa. “You said the Hvitserk had upset a fairy.”

“Yes. He is a fool.” Ivar said quickly as he gave you a bored look.

“Well, then why don’t you just have this spell undone?”

“Because it is not a spell. It is a curse and It cannot be undone. As I understand, my home is no more so I will not be able to find the creature.”

You sighed and thought over what he’d said. Getting up to find your laptop you sat back beside him. “Where did you live?”

“Kattegat.” He answered simply.

After googling it you realised he was right. The place he existed didn’t exist at all. “Surely there is a way out of it. What did you brother do?”

“He sat in the middle of a fairy ring and ate their mushrooms. They didn’t have any other food for the winter so they cursed us.” Ivar answered. You gave him a scathing look as you tried to make sense of the things he kept coming out with.

“Have you tried… growing mushrooms and giving them back?” You asked and this time Ivar gave you a look as if you were idiotic.

“Why would we try doing that?” He asked and rolled his eyes.

“Well what have you tried to get the curse undone?” You asked irritably.

“We tried to kill them.”

You both stared at each other for a moment. The glare you were sharing finished suddenly as Ivar grunted and shrank back into his kitten form. He glared up at you from a pile of clothes.

“At least… you’re staying human for longer.” You offered hopefully. Ivar huffed and curled up.

****************

Ivar was woken by you scrambling around the bedroom, you vanished into the bathroom and put down three bowlfuls of chicken. Realising, as you plonked down each of his brothers, there wasn’t a bowl for him. He shrieked and hissed at the top of his voice, stopping to put when you turned to him.

The purring stopped as soon as you scooped him up and set him in a giant handbag that was filled with his human clothes. He peeked out at you with his best scowl as you shoved on your shoes, grabbed a jacket and darted to the car.

“I found a man who has studied fairies and knows historical stuff about them. He doesn’t believe that I have magic kittens cursed by fairies but he agreed to meet me.” You explained quickly. Ivar remained quiet but narrowed his eyes to ensure you knew he still wasn’t pleased. “I need you to turn into you, when I meet him. I’ll see if he thinks anything can help and if you’re good I will get you a meal, from the restaurant we’re meeting at.”

You pulled up in the car park and spotted the man waiting for you, when Ivar didn’t answer and also let you pick him up, along with his clothes, and sit him on the back seat of the car, you assumed he was agreeing to your terms.

“Hello.” You said quickly.

“This is the magic kitten?” The man asked quickly as he looked down at Ivar. “Doesn’t look very magic.”

At this point Ivar chose to change into his human form and scowled at the man. He began to splutter and had to grip your arm as he gasped.

“Did I kill him?” Ivar asked curiously as he watched.

“Will you please put your clothes on!” You hissed as the man seemed to calm himself.

Once Ivar was dressed and the man had calmed down he finally agreed to talk with Ivar. “How do you expect me to get inside?” He asked.

“Well… do you think these will help?” You asked Ivar. You showed him the old crutches you’d had from a few years ago. He inspected them and decided they would do for now. With A bit of help you all went inside and found a table at the back.

“Here, you can pick anything you want off there.” You said as you slid a menu over to Ivar. You turned your attention to the man who started talking.

“I cannot read this.” Ivar said as he waved the menu in your face.

“What?” You asked as you turned to him.

“I cannot read whatever this is.” Ivar snapped and frowned at you.

“Oh. I’ll just order what I think you’d like.”

“No. You said I will have whatever I wish, so read it to me.” Ivar demands. Reluctantly you read it out to him and he eventually ordered so much that the kitchen backed up.

“I think I have some books that might help. I am unsure if it will undo anything permanently. You say the others are stuck, they can’t do this.” He gestured to Ivar who was balancing a balloon on his nose, seeming impressed with himself when it didn’t pop.

“Yes. They’re stuck as kittens. Ivar, will you tell them man how you got like this?” You asked. When he ignored you, you slapped at his arm, causing the balloon to tumble away. He turned to glare at you when a plate of his food appeared which seemed to appease him.

“Well. We were hunting. It had been a few days and we had caught a lot of animals that we could cure to last the winter. But Hvitserk, my brother, decided he wanted to stray. He said he met a goddess who showed him where there was food. Special food. The fool had been tricked by A fae woman who wanted him, he ate her food so she thought she had him, but he trampled all over her ring and rushed back to us to show us. He had harvested all he could find and ruined the fae’s crops. She just wanted a pretty mortal husband.” Ivar explained with a smug smile as he laughed.

More food arrived and he turned his attention to that, refusing to add more until he’d eaten one of the meals. Another he tried but deemed it inedible and offered it to you. “After that we returned home to our mother and told her what had happened. She made some talismans to keep the fae from attacking us but only managed to make mine. We used to have the others but we buried them a few years ago.”

“Do you remember where? I could find them, and inspect them. Perhaps even finish them for your brothers.” The man asked quickly. Ivar frowned as he shoved a mouthful of food in his mouth and looked at you.

“Why would I want them to be human too? They need me because they cannot turn.” Ivar said and seemed offended by the man’s offer.

“But isn’t it a step in the right direction. Do you really want to be a kitten forever?” You asked and he shrugged.

“You may look for them. I will draw a map.” He said eventually. The man took Ivar’s map and directions, descriptions of what he said. The man was sure a friend of his had the talismans in his private collection and would see what he could do about it. On the promise that Ivar allowed him to document him and his brothers, and write his story down. Ivar liked that proposal very much and agreed instantly.

“Are you really going to eat all this, I think they want to close and we don’t want you changing in front of all these people.

“But I want the food. You have paid for it. Will they return your money?” He demanded.

“No. They’ll put it all in take out tubs, for us to take it home and eat it.” You said slowly. Ivar’s ability to work Tvs and ovens but not understand the concept of a restaurant really threw you sometimes. You decided you should probably help him get up to date with the times.

#ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless x reader #bonniebird #vikings

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norsereadalong · 4 years

Text

Additional Readings for the Eager...and or, those with the Saga-Fever!

As we dig into the wonderfully fantastic saga that is Eyrbyggja Saga, I wanted to give readers the opportunity to look at discussions in Old Norse Scholarship that have buzzed with the themes and topics brought up by this saga! Politics, Gender, Magic, Law, the Restless Undead, Religion-Belief, and the construction of a saga itself! Below this cut you’ll find a regularly updated haphazard Bibliography separated into sections.

Those entries with an * (asterisk) present are free and accessible online–I will be happy to send you a pdf of every other article/chapter if I have it, just DM me the particular article you want at @cousinnick and I will do my best to send it to you. If you have any suggestions to add to the list, I’d be happy to look into them!

Old Norse Read-Along Bibliography: Eyrbyggja Saga

Íslendingasögur/Icelandic Family Sagas:

Andersson Theodore M. The Icelandic Family Saga: An Analytic Reading. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1967.

Andersson Theodore M. The Displacement of the Heroic Ideal in the Family Sagas. Speculum 45, 575—93, 1970.

Byock, Jesse. Medieval Iceland: Society, Sagas, and Power. Berkeley, 1988.

Hastrup, Kirsten. “Defining a Society: The Icelandic Free State Between Two Worlds.” Scandinavian Studies, vol. 56, no. 3, 1984, pp. 235–255.

Jonas Kristjansson. Eddas and Sagas: Iceland’s Medieval literature, trans. Peter Foote. Reykjavik: Hið Íslenska Bókmenntafélag, 1988.

Ian Miller, William. Emotions and the Sagas in Palsson, Gisli 9th ed. From Sagas to Society. Engield Lock: Hisarlik, 1992.

O’Donoghue, Heather. Old Norse-Icelandic Literature: A Short Introduction. Blackwell, 2004.

Vesteinn Olason. Dialogues with the Viking Age trans. Andrew Wawn. Reykjavik: Heimskringla, 1998.

Vesteinn Olason. The Icelandic Saga as a Kind of Literature with Special Reference to its representation of Reality, in Learning and Understanding in the Old Norse World: Essays for MCR, ed. Quinn et al. Brepols, 2007.

Eyrbyggja Saga:

Chadwick, N. K. “Norse Ghosts (A Study in the Draugr and the Haugbúi).” Folklore 57.2 (1946): 50-65.

Kanerva, Kirsi. The Role of the Dead in Medieval Iceland: A Case Study of Eyrbyggja Saga. (2011).*

Sayers, William. “The Alien and the Alienated as Unquiet Dead in the Sagas of the Icelanders.” Monster Theory: Reading Culture. ed. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen. Minnesota: University of Minnesota Press, 1996.

Draugar/Revenants/Restless Undead:

Ármann Jakobsson. “Vampires and Watchmen: Categorizing the Mediaeval Icelandic Undead.” Journal of English and Germanic Philology, 2011, Vol. 110.3., pp. 281-300.*

Ármann Jakobsson. The Troll inside You: Paranormal Activity in the Medieval North. Earth, Milky Way: Punctum Books, 2017.*

Ármann, Jakobsson. “The Fearless Vampire Killers: A Note about the Icelandic Draugr and Demonic Contamination in Grettis Saga.” Folklore, 2009, Vol. 120, no. 3, pp. 307-316.*

Ármann, Jakobsson. “The Taxonomy of the Non-Existent: Some Medieval Icelandic Concepts of the Paranormal.” Fabula, 2013, vol. 54, pp. 199-213. *

Ármann Jakobsson. “The Trollish Acts of Þorgrímr the Witch: The Meanings of Troll and Ergi in Medieval Iceland”. Saga-Book, 2008, Vol. 32, pp. 39-68.*

Chadwick, N. K. “Norse Ghosts (A Study in the Draugr and the Haugbúi).” Folklore 57.2 (1946): 50-65.

Cohen, Jeffrey Jerome. Monster Theory: Reading Culture. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota, 1996. Ebook Central.

Glauser, Jürg. „Supernatural Beings. 2. Draugr and Aptganga.“ In Medieval Scandinavia: An Encyclepedia, Edited Phillip Pulsiano, pg. 623. New York: Garland, 1997.

Hartnell, Jack. Life and Death in the Middle Ages: Medieval Bodies. New York: W.W. Norton & Company Inc, 2018.

Kanerva, Kirsi. The Role of the Dead in Medieval Iceland: A Case Study of Eyrbyggja Saga. 2011.*

Kanerva, Kirsi. “Having No Power to Return? Suicide and Posthumous Restlessness in Medieval Iceland.” Thantos, 2015, Vol. 4, pp. 57-79.*

Kanerva, Kirsi. “Restless Dead or Peaceful Cadavers? Preparations for Death and Afterlife in Medieval Iceland.” Dying Prepared in Medieval and Early Modern Northern Europe. ed. Anu Lahtinen and Mia Korpiola, Leiden: Brill, 2018.*

Kanerva, Kirsi & Koski, Kaarina. “Beings of Many Kinds—Introduction for the Theme Issue ‘Undead’”. Thantos, 2019, Vol. 8, pp. 3-28.*

Laurin, Dan. The Everlasting Dead: Similarities Between The Holy Saint and the Horrifying Draugr. Scandia, 2020. N. 3.*

Merkelbach, Rebecca. Monsters in Society: Alterity, Transgression, and the Use of the Past in Medieval Iceland. Kalamazoo, MI, 2019. The Northern Medieval World.

Sanders, Karin. Bodies in the Bog and the Archaeological Imagination. Chicago, Ill.; London: University of Chicago, 2009.

Gender and Sexuality:

Ármann Jakobsson. “Óðin as Mother; the Old Norse Deviant Patriarch.” Arkiv För Nordisk Filologi 126 (2011): 5-16.*

Clover, Carol. “The Politics of Scarcity: Notes on the Sex Ratio in Early Scandinavia.” Scandinavian Studies 60.2 (1988): 147-188.

Clover, Carol J. “Regardless of Sex: Men, Women, and Power in Early Northern Europe.” Speculum 68.2 (1993): 363-87.

Jesch, Judith. Women in the Viking Age. Woodbridge: Boydell P, 1991.

Jochens, Jenny. Old Norse Images of Women. Philadelphia: U Pennsylvania v, 1996.

Jóhanna Katrin Friðriksdóttir, ‘Women’s weapons a re-evaluation of magic in the Islendingasogur.’ Scandinavian Studies 81.4 (2009): pp. 409-28.

Laurin, Dan. But, What About the Men? Male Ritual Practices in the Icelandic Sagas. Kyngervi, 2020.*

Price, Neil. The Archaeology of Seiðr: Circumpolar Traditions in Viking Pre-Christian Religion. Brathair 4 (2), 2004: 109-126.*

Raffield, Ben, Neil Price, and Mark Collard. “Polygyny, Concubinage, and the Social Lives of Women in Viking-Age Scandinavia.” Viking and Medieval Scandinavia 13 (2017): 165-209.

Ström, Folke. Níđ, Ergi and Old Norse Moral Attitudes. London: Published for the College by the Viking Society for Northern Research, 1974. Print. The Dorothea Coke Memorial Lecture in Northern Studies; 1973.

Wallenstein, Frederik, The Burning of Rǫgnvaldr réttilbeini, (Nordic Academic Press, 2013).*

Politics and Law:

Jesse Byock. Feud in the Icelandic Society. (Berkeley 1982).

Firth, Hugh. “Coercion, Vengeance, Feud and Accommodation: Homicide in Medieval Iceland.” Early Medieval Europe 20.2 (2012): 139-75.

Miller Ian. William. Choosing the Avenger: Some Aspects of the Bloodfued in Medieval Iceland and England, Law and History Review 1, 159-204.

Miller Ian. William. Law and Literature in Medieval Iceland. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1989.

Miller, William Ian. Bloodtaking and Peacemaking: Feud, Law, and Society in Saga Iceland. Chicago, Ill.; London: University of Chicago, 2005.

Fantasy:

Hume, Kathryn. Fantasy and Mimesis : Responses to Reality in Western Literature. London: Methuen, 1984.

Larrington, Carolyne. “The Psychology of Emotion and Study of the Medieval Period.” Early Medieval Europe, 2001, Vol. 10, no. 2, pp. 251-256.

Mundal, Else. The Treatment of the Supernatural and the Fantastic in Different Saga Genres. (2006)

Ross, Margaret. “Realism and the Fantastic in the Old Icelandic Sagas.” Scandinavian Studies 74.4 (2002): 443-54.

Todorov, Tzvetan. The Fantastic: A Structural Approach to a Literary Genre. Cleveland: Press of Case Western Reserve U, 1973. Print. A Volume in the CWRU Press Translations.

Mythology/Vikings:

Clunies Ross, Margaret. Prolonged Echoes : Old Norse Myths in Medieval Northern Society. Odense: Odense UP, 1994. Print. Viking Collection. v. 7, V.10.

Hayward, John. The Penguin Historical Atlas of the Vikings. London: Penguin, 1995.

Jesch, Judith. The Viking Diaspora. New York: Routledge, 2015.

Jones, Gwyn. A History of the Vikings. (OUP: 1968 rev. 1984)

Lindow, John. Norse Mythology: A Guide to the Gods, Heroes, Rituals, and Beliefs. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002.

Price, Neil S. The Viking Way : Religion and War in Late Iron Age Scandinavia (2002).

Sawyer, Peter. The Oxford Illustrated History of the Vikings. (OUP, 1997)

Williams, Gareth, Peter Pentz, and Matthias Wemhoff. Vikings : Life and Legend. London, 2014.

Magic in Icelandic Family Sagas:

Ármann Jakobsson. ‘The Trollish Acts of Þorgrímr the Witch: The Meanings of troll and ergi in Medieval Iceland. Saga-Book of the Viking Society 32 (2008): 39-68.*

Davidson, H. R. Ellis. ‘Hostile Magic in the Icelandic Sagas’ in The Witch Figure, rd. Venetia Newall. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1973. 20-41.

Dillmann, Francois-Xavier. Les magiciens dans l'Islande ancienne. Uppsala: Kungl. Gustav Adolfs Akademien for svensk folkkultur, 2006.

Gísli Palsson. “The Name of the Witch: Sagas, Sorcery and Social Context.” Social Approaches to Viking Studies, ed. Ross Samson. Glasgow: Cruithne Press, 1991. 157-68.

Heide, Eldar. Spinning Seiðr. Old Norse Religion in long-Term Perspectives: Orgins, Changes and Interactions. (2006 Lund: Nordic Academic)

Jochens, Jenny. The Prophetess/Sorceress in Old Norse Images of Women. (1996)

Jolly, Karen. Definitions of Magic in Witchcraft an Magic in Europe: The Middle Ages. (2002)

Kieckhefer, Richard. Definitions of Magic in Magic in the Middle Ages. (1989)

Laurin, Dan. But, What About the Men? Male Ritual Practices in the Icelandic Sagas. Kyngervi, 2020.*

Lindow, John. ‘Supernatural Others and Ethnic Others: A Millennium of World View’ Scandinavian Studies 67.1 (1995): 8-31

Meylan, Nicolas. Magic and Discourse of Magic in the Old Norse Sagas of the Apostles in Viking and Medieval Scandinavia. (2011)

Miller, William Ian. ‘Dreams, Prophecy and Sorcery: Blaming the Secret Offender in Medieval Iceland’ Scandinavian Studies 58.2 (1986): 101-23

Mitchell, Stephen. Skirnismal and Nordic Charm Magic. (Turnhout: Brepols 2007)

Mitchell, Stephen. ‘Magic as Acquired Art and the Ethnographic Value of the Sagas’, Old Norse Myths, Literature and Society. Ed. Margaret Clunies Ross. Odense: UP Southern Denmark, 2003. 132-52. (attached).

Mitchell A. Stephen. Witchcraft and Magic in the Nordic Middle Ages. (2011)

Morris, Katherine. Sorceress or Witch? The Image of Gender in Medieval Iceland and Northern Europe. (1991).

Price, Neil. The Archaeology of Seiðr: Circumpolar Traditions in Viking Pre-Christian Religion. Brathair 4 (2), 2004: 109-126.*

Raudvere, Catharina. Trolldomr in Early Medieval Scandinavia’, Witchcraft and Magic in Europe: The Middle Ages. London: Athlone v, 2002. 75-171.

Steven, Justice. Did the Middle Ages Believe in their Miracles? (2008)

Ward, Benedicta. Miracles and the Medieval Mind: Theory, Record and Event 1000—1215. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1982.

#norsereadalong #Eyrbyggja saga #bibliography #Additional Readings #Articles #Books

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agwitow · 4 years

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Writeblr Review Help

Hello my lovelies! I’m working on The Stuck Author’s Survival Handbook -- a big book of prompt lists on various topics from character creation, to world building, to plot points.

For one of the sections, I talk about the importance of diversity and would like some input from all of you! :)

If you’d like to take a quick read, the bit I’d like feedback on is under the cut. Please let me know (through reblog, comment, message, or email [contact [at] agwitow.ca]) what your thoughts are.

Thank you, my lovelies. You’re all amazing!

“A Dash of Diversity”

Depending on who you are, and which parts of the internet you frequent, you may or may not be familiar with the concept of diversity in fiction. There are many reasons why I, along with many others, believe diverse characters are important. But there are also many people who argue against it. While everyone is entitled to their opinion, many of the arguments against pushing for more diversity in stories have some major flaws. Let’s explore some of them for a moment.

“There is no diversity in my community”

Are you sure? Really sure? Remember, not all “diversity” is easily visible.

There are many ethnic groups which are able to “pass” as the majority group in their area. This doesn’t invalidate or lessen their ethnic identity. In fact, there are some groups who have, historically, had to blend in with the majority in order to simply survive. It could be argued that representing such “hidden” diversity is even more important.

And that’s just touching on ethnic groups.

In many cases, it’s all but impossible to tell what someone’s religion, sexuality, physical/mental health, and/or disabilities are simply by looking at them. Sure, there are some ways such things can be visible—a woman wearing a hijab, a person in a wheelchair, someone wearing their pride flag as a cape—but that individual may very well have one or more “hidden” diversities as well.

It’s human nature to want to assume everyone around us is like us. It’s okay to have that gut reaction. But it’s our responsibility to pause and take a closer look, to not make assumptions based on what would make us most comfortable, and to acknowledge the beautiful diversity of those we interact with every day.

“Forced diversity is harmful”

There is a nugget of truth to this argument. Tokenism (including a diverse character simply so you can say you included a diverse character) is almost always paired with broad stereotypes and/or fetishization of an identity. And that is what’s harmful.

It only takes a little bit of effort to understand and respect the various ways we are all different. And once that’s done, it’s easy to include diverse characters who are full characters in their own rights and not just cardboard cut-outs.

And remember, even if you haven’t noticed the diversity around you, it’s still there. Hard to “force” something when it occurs naturally so very, very frequently.

“I don’t want to be accused of appropriation”

While this fear is understandable, it is also simply an excuse. Yes, the issues around what is and is not cultural appropriation have become murky. But that doesn’t mean we should all just stop trying to include a variety of characters in our stories. Including a character who has some specific identity is not appropriation. Including a character belonging to the cultural majority (usually a cis-White male in Western society) who then uses parts of a minority’s identity as a fashion or status symbol is.

There are many resources on this topic, some of which you can find in the Resources section at the end of this book. And if, after research and a genuine effort, you are still worried, you can always hire a sensitivity reader to help you identify any problematic areas.

Please note: just because a sensitivity reader gives you the all-clear does not mean you are absolved of all guilt for any inaccurate and/or harmful portrayals. Nor is it the sensitivity reader’s fault.

If you’ve made a mistake, own up to it and try to do better next time. Readers are far more patient and understanding with writers who show a genuine desire to do better, than with writers who try to push the blame onto someone else, or try to deny they did anything wrong.

Be humble. Be kind. And do your research.

“My character(s) are generic so readers can assume whatever they want”

This, unfortunately, almost never works for genuinely diverse characters. A “blank slate” character who is meant to allow a reader to project themselves on to is actually just an under-detailed character belonging to the identities shared by the majority.

Which means, most of the characters designed this way become just another in a long line of similar characters targeted at the un-diverse identities. (And while, yes, there are some people who genuinely have no bit of diversity about them, they are rare. Everyone has something diverse about them.)

And given how easy it is nowadays to research and learn, this kind of character tends to feel a bit lazy.

“It’s not historically accurate”

Are you sure? Really sure?

First of all, you must not know many history nerds, because this is a pretty big pet peeve of all the ones I know (myself included).

History is far more diverse than it’s given credit for. There were black Vikings. Same-sex marriages were recorded in Medieval Europe. There are records of trans people in a variety of ancient civilizations. Victorians enjoyed nipple piercings. Women owned and operated businesses (and not just brothels) throughout history. It’s amazing all the things we, as a society, have forgotten about the past.

History isn’t written by the victors; it’s rewritten by those in power to make it seem like they’ve always been in power.

As writers, we have the ability to correct some of those “revisions.” And isn’t it so much more fun to write stories about different people and their adventures?

“It’s a fantasy world—there is no X”

If you can include dragons, magic, undead, and/or the personification of abstract concepts (like Death), then you can also include X.

“I don’t believe that X identity is valid”

You may believe that, but it doesn’t invalidate the experiences of that group. And if, after reading all of the above, you still want to balk at the idea of including diversity in your writing, then I don’t know what else I can say.

----

I’m sure I’m missing things, and that I could word this better. Hence asking all you lovelies for a bit of input.

Thanks again!

#writing #writeblr #diversity in fiction #please review #please help

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strawberrysunrisewitches · 4 years

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Kaja Arcano Profile

Identity

Name: Kaja Arcano

Gender: Female

Birth Date: February 14 1990

Species: Human

Blood Status: Pureblood

Sexuality: Lesbian

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: Norwegian

Residence: Lillehammer, Norway

The Mage

Wand: Juniper 11″ and unicorn tail hair

Animagus: Red Tailed Comet with star markings on the eyes

Misc Magical Abilities: She was born with an arcane gift that is legend passed down in her family. This is inherent in the women born in her family with a streak of white hair. Her power is enchantment. When she uses her powers, her eyes glow purple and the target of her power She can magically empower or hinder people and creatures e.g. compelling them to move as far away from her as possible or empower courage in those around her

Boggart Form: Her family and friends betraying her

Riddikulus Form: A pink unicorn doing the thriller dance

Amortentia: (What do they smell like?) Cinnamon, lemons, tulips, roses, sea salt

Amortentia: (What do they smell?) Apples, oranges, mandarins, charcoal, vanilla, freshly cut grass

Patronus: Snow Hare

Patronus Memory: Her family sitting under her lemon tree she planted during a sunset while eating some grilled fish

Mirror of Erised: All of her family together including her aunt and uncle

Specialized/Favourite Spells:

Tarantallegra

Impedimenta

Mimblewimble

Flipendo

Tempest jinx

Accio

Appearance

Faceclaim: Pleunie Teunis

Height: 5′11

Physique: Athletic

Eye Colour: Grey

Hair Colour:Black with a stripe of white down the middle of her hair

Skin Tone: Pale

Body Modifications: A tattoo of two wolves making a heart on her upper back

Scarring: Two scars over her eyes, one is more jagged than the other

Inventory: (what do they carry on them?): Wand, a bottle of lemon juice, a blank book full of pressed flowers, A moonstone bracelet gifted by Natasha, black wool scarf, school supplies, a white rabbit plush toy

Fashion: Dark clothes which most often means; black fur collared jackets, knee length black or navy blue skirts, dark blue and black striped tights, high tops, gray tank tops

Allegiances

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Ilvermorny House: Pukwudgie

Affiliations/Organizations:

Hogwarts

Arcano Family

Professions: Orchard Owner

Hogwarts Information

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: E

Charms: O

DADA: E

Flying: E

Herbology: O

History of Magic: A

Potions: A

Transfiguration: P

Electives:

Ancient Runes: E

CoMC: A

Ancient Studies: O

Magical Theory: A

Quidditch: N/A

Extra Curricular:

Relationships

Brother: Rune Arcano

The most responsible of his siblings

is very stoic and straight faced

Very hard to make laugh

Is protective of his younger sisters and will do anything for them

Older Sister: Magnhild Arcano

Has a white streak

Has transmutation powers

Very much a party girl and not very responsible with anything besides her sisters

Very carefree in nature

Younger Sister: Petra Arcano

Does not have a white streak

Is very envious of her sisters that do have the gift

Works the hardest in her studies to prove herself to her family so she isn’t overshadowed by her sisters

Is very much an introvert and prefers doing her own thing

Younger Sister: Laila Arcano

Has a white streak

Has illusion powers

Very excitable, constantly moving

Is constantly playing in her family’s backyard with all their pets

Father: Bernhard Arcano

Is very empathetic and vocal about his beliefs

An expert in healing magic

When he wants to learn something he becomes very single-minded learning it

Works as a healer

Mother: Juni Arcano

Like her parents with Dafne, Dielle and Dayamanti, she told her children about the stories of the Valkyries

Loves all animals and is incredibly kind

Is seemingly always singing when not talking or sleeping

Works as a herbalist

Love Interest: Natasha Cykes

Best Friends: N/A

Pets:

Two norwegian forest cats named Sprite and Citrus

A short haired pointer named Cinder

Eagle Owl named Pumpkin

Background/History

For most of her childhood, Kaja lived in Skalafell, an all wizard viking village where her family had lived since their history had been recorded. In the Arcano family women born with parts of white hair are also born with arcane powers beyond normal wizardry but for about 100 years no Arcano had been born with the gift until Kaja’s eldest cousin Dayamanti was born and then every girl afterwards with the exception of Petra. Alatar, Kaja’s Grandfather, began telling legends about the arcane gift to his grandchildren once Dayamanti began showing signs of the arcane gift. Three months before Tyr and Annika’s deaths, Kaja and her family moved away from Skalafell to a town in a warmer climate in Norway, a month after they moved Kaja fell into a cave causing the scars on her face, fortunately Bernhard was nearby who was able to heal her before her sight was damaged permanently.

When Tyr and Annika died, Kaja immediately wanted to move back to Skalafell because she knew her cousins would take their deaths badly and wanted to comfort them but her parents were not convinced as they had just got properly moved in but they did visit to check on them. Shortly after the visit is when Kaja discovered her powers when comforting Dielle, Kaja accidentally used her powers to make her temporarily stop feeling sad. Like Dafne, it was agreed that Kaja go to Hogwarts to help research a second myth that the Arcanos guarded.with her sisters joining them three years after Kaja.

Personality

Mom friend

Will fight for what she believes in to the death

Very cheerful

Loves learning about ancient history and languages

Will never give up on her loved ones

Prefers to not use her negative powers on people

Misc

Her fashion style is entirely just because she likes the aesthetic it brings

At her house she has her own section of the garden where she grows tulips, roses and lemons

Her favourite food is apple upside down cake

She looks up to her cousin, Dafne

Knows how to play the piano

She is very huggy to all her friends and family

She likes watching the sun set every day

She likes trying to add lemon to any food that she thinks it’d fit to limited success

Is always willing to be there for her friends if they need a shoulder to cry on

Made for @kathrynalicemc Arcano family

Template by @hogwartsmysterystory

#Kaja Arcano #Arcano Family #character profile #hpma #harry potter magic awakened #HP magic awakened #hpma mc

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mediaeval-muse · 4 years

Text

Book Review

The Wolf in the Whale. By Jordanna Max Brodsky. New York: Redhook, 2019.

Rating: 3.5/5 stars

Genre: historical fiction, magical realism

Part of a Series? No

Summary: A sweeping tale of clashing cultures, warring gods, and forbidden love: In 1000 AD, a young Inuit shaman and a Viking warrior become unwilling allies as war breaks out between their peoples and their gods-one that will determine the fate of them all. "There is a very old story, rarely told, of a wolf that runs into the ocean and becomes a whale." Born with the soul of a hunter and the spirit of the Wolf, Omat is destined to follow in her grandfather's footsteps-invoking the spirits of the land, sea, and sky to protect her people. But the gods have stopped listening and Omat's family is starving. Alone at the edge of the world, hope is all they have left. Desperate to save them, Omat journeys across the icy wastes, fighting for survival with every step. When she meets a Viking warrior and his strange new gods, they set in motion a conflict that could shatter her world...or save it.

***Full review under the cut.***

***Mild spoilers in the plot section.***

Content/Trigger Warnings: rape, sexual assault, racism, misogyny, blood, violence, infanticide, slavery

Overview: I’m not an expert on Inuit culture, so if there are any Inuit, Indigenous, or scholarly reviewers out there who can speak more about the representation in this book, I highly recommend listening to them over me. (I am, however, a medievalist, so I can speak to the Norse elements in this book, if desired.)

The Wolf in the Whale is the kind of book that I have wanted for years; one that pushes back against the colonial gaze and gives us a perspective on Vikings from a non-European point of view. Unfortunately, I’m not entirely sure if this book did that for me. Brodsky (from her own research note) is not Inuit herself, though she does detail her research process and seems knowledgeable about some aspects of Inuit culture. Combined with some storytelling elements that she included in her tale (such as rape and misogyny), I feel somewhat conflicted about how to rate this book, even as I appreciate what it was trying to do. I think for me, personally, The Wolf in the Whale didn’t do as much interrogation into gender identity as it could have, nor do I think making Inuit spirituality/religion fit into Norse mythology entirely rejects a colonial point of view. I did, however, appreciate the premise and the writing, so I’m giving this book a 3.5 star rating.

Writing: Brodsky’s prose is very literary in tone, and I thought that Brodsky wrote with an easy balance between telling and showing. She uses neither flowery language nor sparse descriptions, and it was easy to visualize what was going on without feeling like everything was being spoon-fed to me. I also think the sentences flowed well and the pace was generally appropriate, and I found it easy to keep reading, even though this book was around 500 pages long.

This book is, however, written in first person, which I personally don’t care for because first person can make some descriptions seem awkward. Brodsky manages to sidestep a lot of awkwardness by using a more literary style, reigning in some emotion to make it feel as if the POV character is retelling their story from a future, detached kind of mental state. So props to her for that.

Plot: The Wolf in the Whale follows Omat, an Inuit girl who is raised as a boy, as they struggle to ensure their family’s survival. Over the course of the novel, Omat encounters food shortages, divine conflicts, and strangers (including other Inuit, Indigenous peoples, and Norsemen), and the majority of the latter half of the book is spent following Omat as they search for their cousin, Kiasik, who has been kidnapped by Norsemen.

In general, I think the structure of the plot worked well. Brodsky divides her book into sections that reflect different conflicts in Omat’s life, and I think the events unfolded in a logical way. I also really enjoyed the valuation of stories (especially when Omat and Brandr, a Viking, bond over storytelling) and the magical realism that gave Omat a connection to the spirit world. I furthermore appreciated that Omat’s story was one of Inuit contact with Vikings; as a medievalist, I’ve studied sagas that this book is loosely based on, and I appreciate the fact that Brodsky represented the Vikings not as heroic explorers, but colonizers and slavers.

I did not, however, enjoy the fact that so much of this book seemed to revolve around misogyny, and I got a weird sense that even though Omat is our POV character, Norse mythology seemed to take center stage when the Vikings showed up. First, the misogyny: I can’t speak to the accuracy of the Inuit stories about their gods and goddesses, nor can I say for certain if Inuit peoples have strict prohibitions against women doing men’s work and vice versa; thus, I can’t say whether the numerous stories about rape or the taboos that Omat is punished for violating are accurate or exaggerated. However, I think I can say that Omat needed to have a much more defined personal journey that didn’t revolve around her disdaining women’s work or being sexually assaulted. As a girl raised as a boy, Omat is incredibly anxious about being perceived as a hunter and a man - to the point where they express a lot of disgust or shame at being seen wearing women’s clothes or doing women’s work. I think there’s a way to explore Omat’s gender anxiety without denigrating the role women play in Inuit culture, as without women’s work, everyone would die. To be fair, Omat does learn to appreciate women’s roles over time, but I think that process needed to be more gradual and punctuated with plot points where a woman’s skill or knowledge proved to be valuable.

I also do not think there needed to be so much sexual assault (or threat of sexual assault). While I do think Brodsky showed Omat to be affected by her rape, and there’s a nice moment towards the end where Omat addresses all the rape that their goddesses have endured in their stories, I also think the constant threat of sexual assault was a little much. Again, I can’t speak to whether Inuit culture expects women to essentially be sexually available for their husbands at all times and able to be “loaned out” to other men, but I think I can say that as a female reader, I was tired of Omat being threatened to be raped all the time, by Inuit and Viking alike. I would have preferred that Omat come to view their stories in a new light after their assault, and that Omat form bonds with other women who straddle the line between male and female (such as Freydis and Loki, despite their antagonism) in order to grow as a person without a concrete binary gender identity.

Now for the Norse mythology stuff.

***HERE BE SPOILERS.***

While I did like the magical realism that made Omat’s spirituality feel real, I think actually speaking to Norse gods themselves pushed this book from historical fiction to fantasy for me in a way that felt jarring. Also, I think that Brodsky put a little too much value on Norse mythology to the point where it became validated over Inuit spirituality towards the end. To explain: Omat learns in the book that Inuit gods are actually the Frost Giants from Norse culture, and while I get that Brodsky was trying to make all religions fit into one cosmic system, it felt like she wasn’t so much rejecting colonialism as much as she was imposing it. I didn’t like the fact that Inuit gods being Frost Giants meant that Norse myths are real and Inuits have to fit into Norse cosmology, not the other way around. Moreover, Omat is responsible for bringing about Ragnarok, which means that the big mythological battle is between Inuit and Norse gods. While all the gods are reborn, so to speak, after the battle, only the Norse ones speak to Omat, which felt a little unfair.

Characters: Omat, our POV protagonist, is a compelling character in that they have interesting strengths, flaws, and personal challenges. As a girl raised as a boy, Omat struggles to find an accepted identity within their culture, while also getting in trouble for pride (especially when they try to “prove” that they are a man). I liked that Omat was so interested in stories and connected so strongly with the spirit world, and I found their courage to be admirable. I did have some problems with Omat’s utter shame at all things feminine; as mentioned above, I think the acceptance of women’s work and a female body could have been a good character arc, but I think everything was too mired in misogyny to be powerful.

Brandr, a Viking and Omat’s ally-turned-lover, was admirable in that he rejected a lot of the violence of Norse culture and learned to see Omat as a capable, formidable leader. It was a little strange to me, however, that Brandr seemed to offer Omat what their people could not: acceptance of their gender-fluidity. It seemed like almost a critique of Inuit society, though to be fair, Norse people also expressed a lot of misogyny and homophobia in this book. I hated the fact that Brandr was revealed to have raped 3 women prior to meeting Omat, and while it’s good that Brandr realizes how wrong he was to do that (even though his culture told him that it was expected of a Viking), I think he got off far too easy.

Supporting characters were interesting in that they were heavily flawed. Kiasik, Omat’s cousin, struggles with his affection for Omat and his envy of them, leading him to make some decisions that open a rift between the two. Freydis, the legendary leader of the Viking expedition, is determined and harsh, which is fine since she is a major antagonist, but I would have preferred more commentary on gender roles when Omat saw her inhabiting male and female roles. Various Inuit characters were also interesting, such as Omat’s grandfather and adoptive mother, who support Omat in their personal journey. Issuk and his family were hard to like, since Issuk is a braggart and a rapist and his band does little to stick up for Omat.

TL;DR: The Wolf in the Whale has an exciting premise and does well with its magical realism. Moreover, it is well written and clearly has good intentions; however, misogyny and Euro-centric/colonial biases still creep up and detract from the valuation of the main character’s Inuit culture.

#book reviews

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americangodstalk · 4 years

Text

American Gods fan-made RPG: The Old Gods (how to create)

If you want to play or create an Old God, we would advise you first to make sure to check first material about the mythological figure you want to use. Check encyclopedias about the religion or culture you want to explore, research online for articles or studies of the god or goddess that will be your character. Mythologies and legends already have so much funny, crazy and incredible character descriptions, traits, trivia and stories that you cannot ignore them. Use them as much as you can, play them straight or subvert them, make them a major point or just a reference, but using as much real-world knowledge as you can will only make the game more interesting.

A first important note to make is that an Old God doesn’t actually have to be a “god” per se. Old Gods include mythological monsters, mythical figures, fairies and spirits of all sorts, supernatural or divine creatures... A God is an entity that people believed in, whose stories were told and passed on, and that received worship in a form of another (and worship can be as simple as avoiding to do a specific thing or cross a specific place out of fear of the entity). By this definition angels, demons, jinns, fair folk, trolls and yokai are all gods. Do not feel like you need to get a big name - you can always play with smaller figures. In the decay and loneliness of the Old Gods, all are now equal.

When you select a mythological, religious or historical figure, always remember that they need to have been brought to America somehow. You cannot have an Old God whose people never set a foot in America. All the Old Gods are not native of the land - they were brought here (for Native American Gods, a separate section will be written - this one focuses mostly on non-Native old gods). In the American Gods universe, most of the theories of “early contact” with America are actually true. In the American Gods canon, the Vikings, the Egyptians, the Romans and the Chinese all discovered America before Christopher Colombus set a foot there (though all never stayed for long in this land). Feel free to dig up “early contact” archeological theories and use them in your canon. Of course, you can also choose to have the Old Gods be brought strictly by historically-accurate immigration waves. This is strongly encouraged - and we advise you to make a bit of research about the history of immigration and ethnicities in the United-States.

Once you have your Old God or Old Goddess, you need to think of what his or her appearance and personality will be like. Personality wise, the original myths and legends usually give enough material - though you should always remember that some are in America for centuries now, and lived through many hardships. Their personality very probably changed in front of the misery of their situation and whatever new activity they took upon themselves to survive. Some might be in denial, others depressed or angry... As for the appearance, while you should base yourself on canonical representations of the entity in their original religion or culture, a few things should always be remembered:

They appear as regular, human beings. They can have or hide some unusual traits (trolls will appear as massive, tall or obese humans, while ifrits can need to hide behind sunglasses eyes made of fire and gorgons will need to always cover their head to protect the snakes) but they all appear to be regular, if maybe a little odd, humans. They can take more fantastical shapes, but they usually only do so in the Backstage (see the devoted section). The Old Gods always reflect their original culture - do not take an Egyptian god and describe him as a white-skinned man, or do not take a Chinese goddess and describe her as a copper-skinned woman (unless the original mythological description demands it). Japanese gods will appear as Japanese men, Slavic goddesses will appear as Russian or Eastern-European women. Another element that should be remembered is that the Old Gods are weaker in America, old and abandonned, and this often reflects in their appearance. Most of them appear as elderly people, or as sick in a way or another. Not all have to look weary and ancient - some still look like young people (especially if they are ever-young entities), but while in legends they will be beautiful youth, in American they can turn into acneic and lanky teenagers. Or they can keep their original beauty and majesty - if they have enough worship and belief. In general, the level of beauty, youth and anomaly of an Old God appearance is linked to their level of “Divine Decay” - see the corresponding section.

Once you have selected their appearance and personality, powers should be considered. The Old Gods are creatures of magic and legend. Not all have fantastical powers, but many do. Once again, we can’t advise you enough to make research about the supernatural abilities of the creature or entity you want to play as - they usually have a given set of powers you should reuse in the game. Gods in general have a certain set of already-given abilities (be it fast-healing, shapeshifting, mind-reading...), but their level of power will again change depending on their “Divine Decay” (see the corresponding section). Always remember, in doubt, that the gods are reflections and embodiments of what they represent. A god of youth and beauty will appear as young and beautiful, while a goddess of fertility and abundance will appear with generous curves and a planturous body.

Find the exact place in the United-States your Old God resides. Usually, the Old Gods do not travel much. They tend to stay in a given city or state for a certain amount of time. You can choose a geographical location based on the influence their native culture, religion or people had on it. You can select a place you are most familiar with, so as to master its geography better. Or you can select a place where it will be more convenient to play.

The most important and final section of the character should however be the way they feed.

Gods are born of belief - but they survive on worship. The Old Gods, to not fall under the Divine Decay, need worship to maintain their life and powers. In the modern world, since most usually their religions are not celebrated anymore, they need to adapt and get their worship through another mean.

You have two types of worship. The indirect worship - also known as fame. A god can feed of fame. If their stories and legends are still actively told, if their name is famous or part of popular culture, if they appear in works of fiction such as comic books or novels, if they are still studied today in school, they can use it as a way to maintain themselves. Note however that surviving on indirect worship alone is not enough, and many gods ended up fading away due to lacking the other and more important worship.

The direct worship - also known as ritual. Gods feed of worship in the primal sense of the term. Rituals, sacrifices and prayers. People do not realize it, but there are many ways to practice the rituals of old. Animal sacrifices can still be carried through slaughterhouses. The sacred practice of mummification is not so different from the work of a modern undertaker. Prostitution used to be sacred, and the taking of drugs was a mystical experience. And concerts today are no different from ancient rituals - gathering of an enthralled audience in front of a sacred performer, with music, songs and carefully prepared gestures. There are many ways to keep one’s worship alive: if the figure you chose is not famous enough to survive merely out of indirect worship, make sure they have an activity that procures them enough direct worship to survive.

#american gods #old gods #rpg #fan made rpg #american gods rpg

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valeriethepussycats · 4 years

Text

I’m Only Human

Chapter 6

Pairing- Loki x Reader, Thor x Reader( Best friends)

Warning- cursing

Your thoughts in italics.

texts messages are in bold.

Heimdall stands at his post, watching the scene. He lowers his head.

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Jane stands with Selvig and Darcy in the empty lab. Darcy picks up the book Selvig checked out of the library, looks through it.

“I can't just leave him and Y/n there.” Jane scolded herself.

“Why not? Y/n can take care of herself.” Erik told Jane.

“You didn't see what happened.” Jane murmured.

Darcy points at an illustration of Thor's hattmmer in the book. “Hey! Myeu-muh!”

Jane looks at the illustration in the book, turns to Erik knowingly.

“Where did you find this?” Jane Asked.

About the illustration Darcy was talking about Erik grabs the book from them, quickly closes it.

“In the children's section. I wanted to show you how ridiculous his story was.” Erik replied.

Jane is unconvinced by this. She knows he wants to believe.

“Aren't you the one who's always told me to chase down all leads, all possibilities?” Jane commented.

“I was talking about science, not magic!” Erik voiced.

“Magic's just science we don't understand yet. Arthur C. Clarke.” Jane informed.

“Who wrote science fiction.” Erik told Jane.

“The precursor of science fact.” Jane Corrected.

“In some cases.” Erik agreed somewhat.

“If that's really an Einstein-Rosen Bridge out there, then there's something on the other side. Advanced beings could have come through it before.” Jane pointed out.

“Jane...” Erik trailed off.

“A primitive culture like the Vikings might have worshipped them as deities.” Darcy Chimed in.

They give her a look, surprised by her unexpectedly insightful input. Darcy shrugs. Jane points at her, grateful for the support.

“Yes! Exactly! Thank you!” Jane cheered.

Darcy beams.

“Jane, if you do this, you'll find yourself in a situation that I won't be able to get you out of this time.” Erik remarked.

“I'll help you.” Darcy declared.

Jane looks grateful. Selvig looks at her, sees there's no stopping her. He sighs.

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Y/n checks her phone and see there’s a texts message from Erik

Shield came and took everything do you think you can do something?

Y/n text Erik back

Thor got Capture and I’m gonna need you to make him profile I’ll come up with the rest. And I’ll see what I can do about getting everything back.

Y/n heads to The entrance to the base

“I’m Agent Munroe here to see Phil Coulson.” Y/n told the guards at the entrance of the base.

“We will need to check.” Said one of the guards.

“Sure. That’s fine I can wait.” Y/n said calmly.

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Thor sits in a chair, staring forward blankly, hands cuffed behind him. Coulson stands across from him.

“It's not easy to do what you did. You made us all look like a bunch of mall cops. That's hurtful.” Coulson started. “The men you so easily subdued are highly-trained professionals, and in my experience, it takes someone who's received similar training to do what you did to them. Would you like to tell me where you received your training?”

Thor sits silently.

“Pakistan? Chechnya? Afghanistan? Then again, you strike me more as the soldier of fortune type. What was it, South Africa?” Still no answer. Coulson leans in close to him. “Certain groups pay well for a good mercenary. Especially HYDRA.” Coulson remarked. Coulson waits for a response, but gets none.

“Who are you?” Coulson questioned

“Just a man.” Thor answered.

“One way or another, we find out what we want to know. We're good at that.” Coulson noted before walking out the room.

An agent walks up to Coulson and notifies him that Agent Munroe is here. Coulson walks over to where Y/n is waiting.

“Agent Munroe?” Coulson questioned. “What are you doing here your tracker has your location in New York at your apartment.”

Angrily gets up from her sit. “Trac- tracker there’s a tracker on me. What the hell Phil.” Y/n swore.

“Agent Coulson.” Phil corrected Y/n.

“Ok We’re being formal what the hell Agent Coulson.” Y/n replied.

“All agents have a trackers Directed Fury makes it an requirement.” Coulson answered.

“Oh really so show me yours.” Y/n insisted.

“That’s classified.” Coulson replied.

“Oh that’s Rich he has a tracking device on me is he worried November 18th is gonna happen again?” Y/n Asked.

“We don’t speak of November 18th you know that.” Coulson told Y/n. “What are you doing here.”

“Where is Donald Blake.” Y/n Asked.

“Who?” Coulson asked.

“Oh you know built real nice, pretty eyes, blonde hair, beard.” Y/n replied.

“He’s in shield custody he broke into our facility and beat up most of our man.” Coulson informed.

“I could’ve took him down easy but you want to watch the show.” Clint Chimed in.

“Clint you’re here?” Y/n said “shock” walking over and hugging her longtime friend.

“Director Fury assigned me along with Coulson to this assignment it’s kind a like sword in the stone.” Clint answered. “I told you that she was near by. Was that your doing with the rain.

“Sadly no that wasn’t my doing. I just got here when I found out my base was rated by Shield.” Y/n lied.

“So your here with Erik Selvig?” Coulson questioned.

“Yes.” Y/n answered. “And so is Donald Blake. I just want my friend back ok if you would so kindly release him in my custody we will be on our way.” Y/n claimed.

“How does he know how to fight like that?” Coulson questioned.

“I’ve been teaching him and he had some lessons when he was a kid and he’s my friend.” Y/n told a half lie half truth.

Well Thor was taught how fight to fight when he was younger so am I really lying.

“All right fine you want him to be released he would be released to you and your custody.” Coulson announced.

“Thank you Agent Coulson.” Y/n said with a Controlled smile.

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Thor hangs his head low.

“I thought he'd never leave.” Loki said appearing before Thor. Thor looks up, shocked to find Loki standing there, dressed in 21st century attire.

“Loki? What are you doing here?” Thor Asked.

“I had to see you.” Loki replied.

“What's happened? Tell me! Is it Jotunheim? Let me explain to father.” Thor urged.

“Father is dead.” Loki lied.

Thor stares at him, stunned. “What?”

“Your banishment, the threat of a new war, it was too much for him to bear.” Loki started.The implications of Loki's words dawn on Thor -- he's responsible for his father's fate. Loki draws close to him, looks in his eyes, consolingly. “You mustn't blame yourself. I know that you loved him. I tried to tell him so, but he wouldn't listen.”

“It was cruel to put the hammer within your reach, knowing you could never lift it. Thor stares ahead, falling deeper into the abyss. “The burden of the throne has fallen to me now.” Loki finished.

“Can I come home?” Thor wandered.

“The truce with Jotunheim is conditional upon your exile.” Loki explained.

“But couldn't we find a way to--“

“Mother has forbidden your return. Thor nods, lowers his head, beaten. This is goodbye, brother. I'm so sorry.” Loki Noted.

“No, I'm sorry. Loki... thank you for coming here.” Thor said sincerely.

“Nothing could have stopped me.” Loki Told Thor. Coulson enters the room, but seems to take no notice of Loki. “Fare well, brother.”

“Good-bye.” Thor replied to his brother.

“Good-bye? I just got back.” Coulson announced.

Thor looks up to see that Loki is gone. “Now. Where did we leave off?”

Agents and Scientists work to repair the damaged area around Mjolnir. They take no notice of Loki as he steps up beside the hammer. He stares at it -- intrigued, wondering. Can he do it? He reaches down, tries to lift it -- but can't. He lets it go, eyes it with contempt, then steps away. He gestures with his arms. An odd green and gold light rises from the ground, enveloping him, then he disappears. Just as Loki disappears Y/n looks over at Thor’s hammer.

I could’ve sworn there someone just there. Maybe it’s my imagination.

Y/n walk to The entrance of the beast and see Erik.

Perfect timing.

Sitwell enters the room and speaks to Coulson.

“Sir... he's got a visitor.” Sitwell informed Coulson.

Coulson and several other Shield Agent stand across from Erik Selvig and Y/n.

“I’ve already told Agent Munroe that I will be releasing Donald Blake but I want to know do you have to say.” Coulson told.

“Doctor Donald Blake. He's part of our team. MD turn physicist. He's quite brilliant,really.” Erik explained.

“Uh-huh. You mind if we take a moment to verify his identity?” Coulson told them not really asking.

“Certainly.” Erik replied.

The Techie at a computer nearby runs the name.

On the Techie's monitor, a DMV record from the State of New York pops up reading "Dr. Donald Blake". The license photo is indeed a picture of Thor -- the one Darcy took with her cellphone.

“Release Dr. Blake to Agent Munroe here.

The Techie looks to him, surprised. “Make sure he stays in town for the next few days in case we need to talk to him again.” Coulson told Y/n.

Erik shakes his hand. “Thank you.”

Y/n bursts into the room with a to find a seated Thor.

“Donny, Donny, Donny! There you are!” Y/n beamed.

Just Go with it. Y/n Broadcast her thought to Thor.

Thor looks up,and see Y/n. She pulls Thor to his feet, gives him a warm hug. “It's going to be all right, my friend. Come on, I'm taking you home.” Y/n promised. Y/n leads the bewildered Thor out the door.

As Thor, Y/n and Erik make their way past the Shield Security Room, Thor notices Jane's possessions and equipment from the Smith Motors lab stacked under a tarp. He spots Jane's hand- written journal among them. As he passes, he quickly takes it from the pile and pockets it.

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Coulson looks at the computer bearing Donald Blake's DMV record. A security warning over the image clearly reads "SECURITY ALERT: FALSIFIED DATA." He knows it's been a ruse Pall along.

He looks to Y/n,Erik,and Thor heading away from the Security Room, then follows them outside. Coulson and two SHIELD Agents watch as Y/n walks with Thor away from the base to the SUV. Coulson calls to Y/n. “Just keep him away from the bars.”

“I will!” Y/n lied.

“Where are we going?” Thor asked Y/n and Erik.”

Erik rops his cool demeanor.

“To get a drink.” Erik told Y/n and Thor.

Y/n, Erik, and Thor climb into the SUV.As they drive off, Coulson turns to the other two agents -- Garrett and Cale.

“Follow them.” Coulson ordered.

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Loki, looking apprehensive, walks alone across the icy surface of the planet. Darkness shrouds the ruined temple, save for the shafts of light which knife their way in through the damaged ceiling. Loki enters. Frost Giant guards surround him on all sides. Laufey approaches, towers over him menacingly.

“Tell me why I shouldn't kill you.” Laufey commented.

I've come alone and unarmed.” Loki replied.

“To what end?” Laufey wondered.

“To make you another proposition.” Loki answered.

“So you're the one who let us into Asgard.” Laufey realized.

“You're welcome.” Loki grinned.

“My men are dead, and I have no Casket. You are a deceiver.” Laufey declared.

Laufey lashes out, grabs Loki around the throat, but Loki voiced. Calmly stands his ground. “You have no idea what I am.” The blueness spreads across his face, as Laufey and the guards stare in shock. Loki grins.“Hello, Father.”

Laufey releases him. Loki's body turns back to normal. Intrigued, Laufey sizes up his son.

“Ah, the bastard son. I thought Odin had killed you. That's what I would have done. He's as weak as you are.” Laufey told Loki.

“No longer weak. I now rule Asgard, until Odin awakens. Perhaps you should not have so carelessly abandoned me.” Loki remarked.

This gives Laufey pause.

“Or perhaps it was the wisest choice I've ever made. I will hear you.” Laufey grinned.

“I will conceal you and a handful of your soldiers, lead you into his chambers, and let you slay him where he lies. I'll keep the throne, and you will have the Casket.” Loki explained.

Laufey studies Loki's face.

“Why would you do this?” Laufey questioned.

“When all is done, we will have a permanent peace between our two worlds. Then I, the bastard son, will have accomplished what Odin

and Thor never could.” Loki noted.

“This is a great day for Jotunheim. Asgard is finally ours.” Laufey answered.

“No. Asgard is mine. The rest of the Nine Realms will be yours, if you do as you're told.” Loki disclosed.

Laufey considers the proposition.

“I accept.” Laufey told Loki.

Loki turns to leave. As he goes, the slightest trace of a smile crosses his face.

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Loki emerges out of the Bifrost, as Heimdall steps away from his controls. Heimdall glares at Loki. Loki notices.

“What troubles you, Gatekeeper?”

Part 7

#loki x reader #marvel x reader #thor x reader #loki x black!reader

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