#to make me show fear? Or was it one of his pointless jests? When he spoke of how sweet the peach was

[aegonvi]

For a long time the king did not speak. Then, very softly, he said, “I dream of it sometimes. Of Renly’s dying. A green tent, candles, a woman screaming. And blood.” Stannis looked down at his hands. “I was still abed when he died. Your Devan will tell you. He tried to wake me. Dawn was nigh and my lords were waiting, fretting. I should have been ahorse, armored. I knew Renly would attack at break of day. Devan says I thrashed and cried out, but what does it matter? It was a dream. I was in my tent when Renly died, and when I woke my hands were clean.” Ser Davos Seaworth could feel his phantom fingertips start to itch. Something is wrong here, the onetime smuggler thought. Yet he nodded and said, “I see.” “Renly offered me a peach. At our parley. Mocked me, defied me, threatened me, and offered me a peach. I thought he was drawing a blade and went for mine own. Was that his purpose, to make me show fear? Or was it one of his pointless jests? When he spoke of how sweet the peach was, did his words have some hidden meaning?” The king gave a shake of his head, like a dog shaking a rabbit to snap its neck. “Only Renly could vex me so with a piece of fruit. He brought his doom on himself with his treason, but I did love him, Davos. I know that now. I swear, I will go to my grave thinking of my brother’s peach.” — ACOK, Davos II

[kingslayerstew]

Top 5 baratheon brothers moments

picked moments of them together, not individually

5. this anecdote is so 🥺

4. just any time stannis mentions robert at all

3. renly was four or five when this happened. he still remembers. he remembers his brother and only parental figure discussing whether or not they would have to start eating the dead bodies of people they knew in the near future. I can still see Gawen's face as they strapped him down.

2. "Renly offered me a peach. At our parley. Mocked me, defied me, threatened me, and offered me a peach. I thought he was drawing a blade and went for mine own. Was that his purpose, to make me show fear? Or was it one of his pointless jests? When he spoke of how sweet the peach was, did his words have some hidden meaning?" The king gave a shake of his head, like a dog shaking a rabbit to snap its neck. "Only Renly could vex me so with a piece of fruit. He brought his doom on himself with his treason, but I did love him, Davos. I know that now. I swear, I will go to my grave thinking of my brother's peach."

1. I was in my tent when Renly died, and when I woke up my hands were clean.

[mostpraised]

“Renly offered me a peach. At our parley. Mocked me, defied me, threatened me, and offered me a peach. I thought he was drawing a blade and went for mine own. Was that his purpose, to make me show fear? Or was it one of his pointless jests? When he spoke of how sweet the peach was, did his words have some hidden meaning? Only Renly could vex me with a piece of fruit. He brought his doom on himself with his treason, but I did love him, Davos. I know that now. I swear, I will go to my grave thinking of my brother’s peach.”

- The One True King

[numbaoneflaya]

When you realize that the brothel that Robert hid in before the Battle of the Bells was called the Peach..but Renlys Peach...Enraging stannis who takes no pleasure in peaches fruits/brothels or otherwise... Asha with peaches running down her face... georgy whad in the hell are u on about still...

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 5

The Darkling x Reader

2 days had passed and you mainly spent them sulking and training in your room. You had been in a weird mood ever since your talk with Aleksander. You barely left your chambers, only to check on your keftas and grab food to eat. The atmosphere of the palace indicted that the Darkling had left the palace for a couple days, your suspicions confirmed by the fabrikator working on your kefta who seemed to love a good gossip. You had thought that maybe Aleksander was ignoring you, but the news made you relieved.

At this particular moment, you decided that wasting away in your room was pointless. You made your way to the gardens to take a refreshing walk. The grounds of the palace had changed unlike the inside of it. There was more greenery, even in the dead of winter. Your cape trailed behind you soaking in the melted snow on the path. Although you've been alone for the better part of 2 days, you barely had time to think about anything other than the usual. Your thoughts are constantly whirling with ideas on how to control your powers, how to make yourself more powerful.

Your life has always been a struggle of power due to never having anybody try to teach you those things, you doubted anybody could. There was barely any of your kind, and those that were like you would probably never know it. You had a long life ahead of you, you knew you weren't a mortal, not the true definition of it anyway. The more small science you could practice, the more life you had in you. You may have looked like a normal 23-year-old, but you had a hefty 176 years of life behind you. You seen many army’s crumble and Kings die.

You looked ahead of you and saw Baghra's hut. You never liked her and she was never fond of you. Thankfully, Aleksander never cared for her opinion. You debated going in and surprising her. What would she do? Beat me with the stick for coming back. You understood why she told you to stay away. She was protecting her son. She is still Aleksander's mother after all.

The door flung open and a black-haired girl rushed out, gripping her arm and on the verge of tears. This wasn't a rare occurrence. Baghra was ruthless. She slammed the door and huffed. You had never seen the kefta color combination. Summoner blue and gold? Saints. It's her. The Sun Summoner.

'Are you alright?' You found yourself asking.

She looked at you and sighed

'I will be if I never have to go back there'

You chuckled.

'She's always been a wretched bitch'

She looks back at the hut as if fearing Baghra would hear.

'It's fine, she wouldn't care anyway, I'm Y/N'

'Alina, but I feel like you already knew that'

'Saints, You know me so well already' you jested.

'Are you a Grisha? You're not wearing a kefta'

'I am, but I like my keftas to be very specific, takes a while to make them' You had started walking and the girl followed much to your surprise, probably curious about you. You slowly walked through the gardens.

'What do you do?'

'All sorts of things' You teased but changed the subject 'How are you settling in?'

'Well apart from the fact that I can't bring a sliver of light to me or that I'm forced to eat herring, I'm peachy'

You couldn't help but laugh. You liked her.

'If it's any consolation, I hate the herring too. I much rather pastries for breakfast, no?' She smiled in agreement.

'The trick to summoning is to not let anything get in its way. No emotions, no memories, It needs a clear, controlled path. Think of it like a carriage. You need a road with no obstructions but you also need reigns on the horse to pull it back, stop when you want it to stop'

You tried to explain it simply. You struggled with this when you lost all your abilities too. It was both tiring and painful to get it all back under control.

'I know, but it's not as easy as it sounds.' She looked down at her palm.

'I completely understand Alina. I truly do.'

You sympathized with her. At first, when you heard the rumor of Sankta Alina, all that came to mind was that you could take some of her gift; you were greedy. But now, you felt bad for her. She had so much to live up to yet she could barely produce a ray of light. Moreover, you had a feeling Aleksander had already weaved a plan to use her against her own will and morals. It's what he did, and he was damn good at it too.

'I think I have to go now, combat training awaits.' She mumbled as two summoners approached us. 'I'll see you!'

'Bye Alina'

You watched as she left. You noticed she was missing that spring in her step that the rest of the Grisha here have. You cared for the girl already. You couldn't help it. At one point you too were in charge of the Grisha in the Palace and always made sure they were happy and taken care of. Alina was lacking something, you were sure of it.

*****

Later that day, upon your arrival to your room from the library, you noticed boxes, many boxes. This could only mean one thing: your keftas finally arrived. You let a shriek of excitement out as you unwrapped each individual one and laid it out. Saints! you were in love.

They were all yours and only yours. You made sure of it. You looked at the black keftas and stopped. You had certainly gotten ahead of yourself while requesting those. You were miles away from the power of the shadows and your key to them was somewhere in Kribirsk tending to his Second-Army. You cursed yourself. They were the prettiest ones too. You sighed and tucked them away in the wardrobe for another time. Pity. They'll have to wait.

You tried some on and decided right then and there. It's time. It's time to stop hiding away in your room and moping. You had a life to live and powers to show off. Your old title was waiting to be filled, Second in Command of the Second Army, Deputy General Y/L/N.

Opening the doors wide, you waltzed your way to the halls where rumors and whispers spread, already knowing your chair had been put in its place and was silently pleading to be sat in once again.

Click here to see some of the keftas that I couldn't include in the text'

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

Part 6

@xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @0-artemis

[rainhadaenerys]

There's an interesting parallel between Dany and Stannis in A Clash of Kings, the peach symbolism:

"I've brought you a peach," Ser Jorah said, kneeling. It was so small she could almost hide it in her palm, and overripe too, but when she took the first bite, the flesh was so sweet she almost cried. She ate it slowly, savoring every mouthful, while Ser Jorah told her of the tree it had been plucked from, in a garden near the western wall.

"Fruit and water and shade," Dany said, her cheeks sticky with peach juice. "The gods were good to bring us to this place." - Daenerys I ACOK

~

"All this of snakes and incest is droll, but it changes nothing. You may well have the better claim, Stannis, but I still have the larger army." Renly's hand slid inside his cloak. Stannis saw, and reached at once for the hilt of his sword, but before he could draw steel his brother produced . . . a peach. "Would you like one, brother?" Renly asked, smiling. "From Highgarden. You've never tasted anything so sweet, I promise you." He took a bite. Juice ran from the corner of his mouth.

"I did not come here to eat fruit." Stannis was fuming. - Catelyn III ACOK

The two moments are very similar, with Jorah and Renly offering a peach to Dany and Stannis, the mention of the peach's sweetness, the juice smears the mouth and cheeks, and the peach comes from a western garden (a garden near the western wall of Vaes Tolorro, and Highgarden is in the west of Westeros).

According to the ASOIAF wiki, this is what GRRM said about Renly's peach:

The peach represents... Well... It’s pleasure. It’s… tasting the juices of life. Stannis is a very marshal man concerned with his duty and with that peach Renly says: “Smell the roses”, because Stannis is always concerned with his duty and honor, in what he should be doing and he never really stops to taste the fruit. Renly wants him to taste the fruit but it’s lost. I wish that scene had been included in the TV series because for me that peach was important, but it wasn’t possible. (source - X, X)

For both Dany and Stannis, the peach represents the temptation of a simple life, a sweeter life, with simple pleasures. For Dany, it's staying in Vaes Tolorro with her people and living simply there. For Stannis, it's making peace with his brother.

Stannis rejects the peach. In his rigidity, he doesn't even consider the possibilities or a way to make peace with his brother (when Renly reaches for the peach he instantly reaches for his sword), and chooses to continue fighting for the throne:

"Renly offered me a peach. At our parley. Mocked me, defied me, threatened me, and offered me a peach. I thought he was drawing a blade and went for mine own. Was that his purpose, to make me show fear? Or was it one of his pointless jests? When he spoke of how sweet the peach was, did his words have some hidden meaning?" The king gave a shake of his head, like a dog shaking a rabbit to snap its neck. "Only Renly could vex me so with a piece of fruit. He brought his doom on himself with his treason, but I did love him, Davos. I know that now. I swear, I will go to my grave thinking of my brother's peach." - Davos II ACOK

Dany accepts the peach. She savors it while she contemplates how fortunate they were to have found a place full of fruit like Vaes Tolorro, unlike Stannis, who doesn't accept the peach, and doesn't even contemplate the possibility of making peace with his brother. However, Dany also eventually decides to leave this place full of peaches, and later, when tempted to go back, also decides not to return to Vaes Tolorro in favor of continuing to fight for the throne:

Yet even crowned, I am a beggar still, Dany thought. I have become the most splendid beggar in the world, but a beggar all the same. She hated it, as her brother must have. All those years of running from city to city one step ahead of the Usurper's knives, pleading for help from archons and princes and magisters, buying our food with flattery. He must have known how they mocked him. Small wonder he turned so angry and bitter. In the end it had driven him mad. It will do the same to me if I let it. Part of her would have liked nothing more than to lead her people back to Vaes Tolorro, and make the dead city bloom. No, that is defeat. I have something Viserys never had. I have the dragons. The dragons are all the difference. - Daenerys III ACOK

Both Dany and Stannis abandon the sweetness that the peach symbolizes, the simple pleasures of life and simple life that it symbolizes, in favor of doing what they think it's their duty, and choosing a more difficult path. The peach is a reminder of what could have been. Though it's important to also notice the contrast, how Dany and Stannis are also foils here, because while Dany does abandon the idea of staying in Vaes Tolorro, she still considers it, and she stops to appreciate its simple pleasures (like the peach) and how fortunate she was, unlike Stannis. Dany does what Renly tells Stannis to do but he doesn't, appreciate the pleasures of life because one might not be able to do so again:

"A man should never refuse to taste a peach," Renly said as he tossed the stone away. "He may never get the chance again. Life is short, Stannis. Remember what the Starks say. Winter is coming." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. - Catelyn III ACOK

Finally, I want to add that I saw someone saying that the following quote could be foreshadowing of Dany failing to conquer Westeros and being assassinated, because Renly also ate a peach and was assassinated:

"The high lords have always fought. Tell me who's won and I'll tell you what it means. Khaleesi, the Seven Kingdoms are not going to fall into your hands like so many ripe peaches. You will need a fleet, gold, armies, alliances—"

"All this I know." She took his hands in hers and looked up into his dark suspicious eyes. Sometimes he thinks of me as a child he must protect, and sometimes as a woman he would like to bed, but does he ever truly see me as his queen? "I am not the frightened girl you met in Pentos. I have counted only fifteen name days, true . . . but I am as old as the crones in the dosh khaleen and as young as my dragons, Jorah. I have borne a child, burned a khal, and crossed the red waste and the Dothraki sea. Mine is the blood of the dragon." - Daenerys II ACOK

However, I don't think that's the case. Just because Renly ate a peach and because he was assassinated, doesn't mean every person who eats a peach will die (and also, the main comparison here is between Dany and Stannis, who are both offered a peach, not between Dany and Renly - Renly being the one offering the peach, like Jorah). And to me, the peach as symbolic of a simple life and its simple pleasures seems very clearly established. The quote above is simply a continuation of the same symbolism: the Seven Kingdoms won't simply fall into Dany's hands like ripe peaches, she will have to fight for it. By choosing to continue pursuing the Iron Throne, she is choosing a more difficult path than simply staying in Vaes Tolorro and enjoying its peaches.

[a-libra-writes]

How do you think Stannis feels about Renly's death?

In the book he feels a great amount of guilt and imo he's a bit in denial that he had anything to do with it. I wish the books addressed it more, but alas, we don't have a proper Stannis POV. He says he mourns him, and I believe he feels a great deal of guilt as the older, responsible sibling who wasn't able to bring a "misbehaving" younger sibling to heel. And in the years that Renly's been an adult, they've actively disliked each other.

A pagebreak for the canon stuff after Renly's death -

From Clash of Kings, Davos II:

“Since Lord Renly died, he has been troubled by terrible nightmares,” the boy had confided to his father.

....

“Fools love a fool,” grumbled Stannis, “but I grieve for him as well. For the boy he was, not the man he grew to be.”

....

Stannis only seemed to half hear him. “I have no doubt that Cersei had a hand in Robert’s death. I will have justice for him. Aye, and for Ned Stark and Jon Arryn as well.”

“And for Renly?” The words were out before Davos could stop to consider them. For a long time the king did not speak. Then, very softly, he said, “I dream of it sometimes. Of Renly’s dying. A green tent, candles, a woman screaming. And blood.” Stannis looked down at his hands. “I was still abed when he died. Your Devan will tell you. He tried to wake me. Dawn was nigh and my lords were waiting, fretting. I should have been ahorse, armored. I knew Renly would attack at break of day. Devan says I thrashed and cried out, but what does it matter? It was a dream. I was in my tent when Renly died, and when I woke my hands were clean.”

Ser Davos Seaworth could feel his phantom fingertips start to itch. Something is wrong here, the onetime smuggler thought. Yet he nodded and said, “I see."

...

“Renly offered me a peach. At our parley. Mocked me, defied me, threatened me, and offered me a peach. I thought he was drawing a blade and went for mine own. Was that his purpose, to make me show fear? Or was it one of his pointless jests? When he spoke of how sweet the peach was, did his words have some hidden meaning?” The king gave a shake of his head, like a dog shaking a rabbit to snap its neck. “Only Renly could vex me so with a piece of fruit. He brought his doom on himself with his treason, but I did love him, Davos. I know that now. I swear, I will go to my grave thinking of my brother’s peach.”

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 2

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

A WHILE LATER

BJORNHEIMR, THE TEMPLE

Walking underneath the white sun, Eivor worked his way around the village as he scanned the surrounding buildings, keeping an eye out for Randvi’s bright head of hair. Roughly half an hour had passed ever since Thora first approached him on the hill asking for his assistance, but he had yet to catch a glimpse of his younger sister anywhere.

According to some of the people Eivor had spoken to, Randvi was last seen heading towards the town’s temple. She was accompanying the local seeress on an “urgent matter,” and apparently hadn’t returned since. Eivor didn’t have a clue as to what Ingrida could’ve needed help with on a day like this, but nonetheless, it was the only lead he had. And so, he took it.

Pushing himself up the steep incline that led to the temple’s archway, Eivor slowly ascended a dirt path decorated with ceremonial bones and charms, causing a soft chime to rattle in his ears as they swayed gently in the wind.

His boots dug deeply into the many layers of snow blanketing over the path, and with every step he took on his short journey, a sharp crunch emitted from his feet, alerting nearby hares and birds.

Up ahead, Eivor saw a majestic line of wooden statues standing proudly in front of the temple’s lake, towering over its still waters like a row of guardians. Piles of snow had gathered on their heads and shoulders as a result of the frostbitten weather, and in the bowls that lay at their feet, Eivor saw a handful of fresh offerings left by some of the locals.

The main thing that caught his attention however, was a toppled statue of Freya lying motionlessly in the snow. The base of its structure had broken somehow, and now, it was garnering the care of their seeress, as well as Randvi herself.

Eivor stopped briefly in his tracks, feeling a sense of relief. 

“There you are.” He whispered under his breath.

Approaching them from behind, Eivor hurriedly made his way to Randvi as the two women covertly bickered with each other, speaking in a hushed manner. At first, he simply assumed they were trying to figure out how to get the statue back on its feet, but once he got closer, their conversation suggested otherwise.

“....You’re not listening to me,” Ingrida insisted. “It’s a sign! We must not ignore it.”

Randvi crossed her arms in disagreement, attempting temper the seeress’ fear. “I understand that, Ingrida, but there isn’t much we can do about it now. What’s done is done.”

“You must cancel the wedding,” the older woman reiterated. “The gods have made it clear that this joining will ensue nothing but chaos!”

“A king is coming to our shores at our invitation, Ingrida. To turn Styrbjorn away would be a grave insult to him and his clan. We have no choice but to go through with this.”

Still, the seeress was unconvinced. “An insult holds little weight in the face of death. The arrival of the Raven Clan will bring naught but misery and conflict. The gods have shown this to me.”

Eivor stepped in the middle of their altercation, trying to get a grasp of what was going on.

“Randvi,” he called out, earning a glance from the woman. “What’s going on? Why haven’t you joined father at the docks yet?”

She sighed in frustration. “I apologize for the delay, Eivor, but Ingrida is concerned about the nature of this wedding, and nothing I say seems to ease her nerves.”

Eivor turned to the seeress, curious to hear her side. “What troubles you, Ingrida? You look perturbed.”

The elderly woman scoffed. “Perturbed is an understatement, young man. Last night, the gods visited me in my dreams, and showed me visions of things to come. They were not good.”

“What did you see?”

Ingrida took a moment to recall her memories. “...There was a man. He appeared human in my dream, yet carried a monstrous nature to him. His eyes burned bright with the heat of Muspelheim itself, and his hair was so red that, at first, I mistook it for fire. There was a strange mark etched into the flesh on his neck, and one of his arms had been severed clean off. Lurking behind him, I saw a white wolf whose snout was stained by the redness of his blood.”

It didn’t take long for Eivor to make the connection. “You dreamt of Tyr?”

The seeress seemed unsure. “Perhaps... but I did not get the impression that this man was a god. He seemed too earthly. Too... familiar. That’s not the part that frightens me, though. What worries me is, when I awoke, the statue of Freya had fallen to the ground, despite the fact that it was still standing mere moments ago.”

Eivor shrugged. “I fail to see what’s so alarming about that.”

Ingrida gestured to the statue. “Use your head, Eivor! Freya is the goddess of love. Her collapse -- paired with my vision -- signifies what this marriage will bring. War.”

“How could this marriage bring war? The whole purpose of this joining is to forge an alliance between the Bear and Raven Clans.”

“I’m aware. But our plans do not always match what the gods have in mind.”

Randvi tried to defuse the situation. “Have faith in our jarl, Ingrida. I know these are frightening times, but our father is simply trying to eradicate Kjotve’s people from our waters for good. We would have killed him ourselves long ago, but we alone do not have the strength necessary to do that. We need Styrbjorn and his people.”

“What we need is to avoid more bloodshed. We have had enough.”

The seeress sighed in annoyance, deciding to put an end to this argument. It was clear that her message wasn’t getting through to the other members of the clan, and despite what she may have believed, she couldn’t deny that Randvi had a point. 

Ingrida may have been skeptical about the outcome of this wedding, but Styrbjorn was already on his way. His entire clan was accompanying him to Bjornheimr’s shores, and there wasn’t much she could do about that now.

“...Alright, you two.” Ingrida finally said. “I can see that this is going nowhere. If your father believes this is the best way forward... then I suppose it is not my place to defy him.”

The young woman beamed at her. “Do not fear, seeress. Everything will be alright.”

“I certainly hope so. Our people have suffered enough at the hands of Kjotve and his men. I pray that this joining will put an end to that.”

Randvi nodded in agreement. “As do I.”

Eivor smirked humorously at his sister. “Well, it’s never going to happen if you don’t make haste to the docks.”

The woman chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll be on my way soon. Just...” Randvi took a breath, “...give me a moment.”

Her brother grinned. “Nervous, are we?”

Randvi gave him a friendly shove. “Yes, and you are not helping.”

Eivor smiled at her. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Father wouldn’t promise you to this man if he thought he couldn’t be trusted. You know him.”

The woman remained somewhat anxious. “I know he would never do anything to put me in harm’s way. I’m just... nervous about what the future holds. What if my husband and I don’t get along? What if we’re miserable together? What if this only brews more animosity between our clans?”

“All the better,” Eivor replied. “You’ll fit right in with the rest of Norway’s royalty.”

Randvi let out a laugh at that. “You certainly know how to make light of any situation, don’t you?”

Eivor leaned against a tree, crossing his arms in a jesting way. “It’s my blessing and my curse.”

Ingrida rested her hands on her hips. “More often a curse, I would say.”

Randvi rolled her eyes in a playful manner, finally deciding to return to her duties.

“Alright,” she said with a troubled sigh. “I’ll go find father at the docks now. He’s probably wondering where I am. I’ll see you and Thora at the feast this evening. Try to keep things orderly, will you?”

Eivor nodded reassuringly. “Of course.”

“Good. Father’s counting on us to make a good impression. I trust you won’t scare anyone off before the feast starts?”

“Now that, I can’t promise.”

Randvi snickered in amusement and threw a casual grin at Eivor before taking her leave from the temple, following the trail of dented snow that her brother left behind. The sun was nearing the center of the sky at this point in the day, and if Eivor squinted hardly enough, he could’ve sworn he saw the miniature silhouettes of distant ship sails billowing on the horizon. 

The Raven Clan had arrived.

“Ingrida?” Eivor said, continuing his talk with the seeress. “Can I ask you something?”

The old woman took a seat on a nearby bench, placing herself in front of the statues.

“Of course, young cub. What’s on your mind?”

Eivor strolled towards Ingrida’s position, keeping his eyes nailed on Freya’s fallen figure as he put his thoughts into words.

“Do you truly think this wedding will bring more chaos to our clan?”

The seeress shook her head in uncertainty. “I cannot speak in absolutes, for I do not know what the gods are thinking. All I can tell you is that this marriage sparks a sense of worry in me... and it stems from the man in my dreams.”

Eivor sat beside Ingrida. “Is there anything I can do to tame your fear?”

A warm smile radiated on the woman’s face. “You are kind, but I suspect that this situation is now in the hands of the Nornir. If they wish to lead us into battle, then it would be pointless to cower behind our shields.”

The young man recalled a conversation he had with the seeress many years ago, bringing up one of her own quotes.

“Ingrida, do you remember what you said to me? After my parents were killed, and Arngeir took me in?”

She shook her head, staying silent in response.

“We are all bound by the threads of fate,” Eivor reminded her. “Any attempt to deviate from the path--”

“--will simply be met with what was always destined to be.” Ingrida finished. “Yes, I remember now. And it seems that I would do well to follow my own wisdom.”

The woman chuckled softly, gazing at Eivor with a motherly twinkle in her aged eyes. “You have grown into a fine young man, Eivor. It seems that your mind is as sharp as your axe. Varin would be proud of you. I know Arngeir certainly is.”

“...Thank you, seeress.”

Ingrida rose from her seat, ready to head back inside. “Well, I should return to my duties. We have a busy day ahead of us, and this statue isn’t going to stand up on its own. I’ll see if I can find my son. Perhaps he could help me.”

Eivor mirrored her actions and removed himself from the bench, offering assistance. “I can help you now, if you’d like.”

The woman raised a hand of refusal. “No, no. It’s alright. I’ve occupied enough of your time. You just focus on tending to your own family, and seeing that the Raven Clan receives the welcome they deserve. In the meantime, I will stay here, and do what I can to prepare the temple before King Styrbjorn arrives. It’s possible he will want to make an offering before the wedding.”

“Very well,” Eivor said, making his way through the temple’s arch. “I will speak with you later, then.”

“Farewell, Eivor.” Ingrida replied. “May you carry Odin’s favor.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

THE DOCKS

Rushing down to the harbor, Randvi weaved her way through Bjornheimr’s crowds and hurried to join her father as the Raven Clan steadily approached the docks, drawing everyone’s attention.

By now, there was a canopy of clouds hovering in the sky, slowly inching its way across the ocean’s vast length as it passed through an array of sunbeams.

Meanwhile, underneath them, an impressive collection of longships glided over the sea’s rolling waves, causing spurts of white mist to spray in their wake as they crashed into the tides.

It was an armada fit for a king, Randvi thought. Even though she had never made contact with the Raven Clan before, it was clear that they carried a strong sense of pride and honor with them, similar to the one that her own clan held.

It made her wonder if, perhaps, it wouldn’t be such a difficult task to bring their people together, after all. For many days now, Randvi had spend most of her nights twisting and turning in bed with the worry of causing more trouble like Ingrida suggested, but after seeing the Raven Clan face-to-face, it managed to put some of her fears to rest.

Her heart still hammered with the nervousness of meeting her future spouse, but the anxiety in her chest was no longer as debilitating as before. 

Freya willing, it would stay that way.

Finally reaching the harbor, Randvi came to a halt when she spotted Arngeir waiting by the edge of the pier, standing quietly as his fur cloak danced wildly in the breeze.

Arngeir Hallbjornson was a tall man clad in fierce armor that broadened his already stocky build, causing him to stand out from the clan like a walking giant. Most of his visage was hidden behind a grizzled beard and mane that had been twisted into multiple braids, and the parts of his face that remained uncovered were creased with years of experience.

Despite the boldness that his presence carried however, Arngeir did not wield an intimidating temperament as others might have expected. Instead, his pragmatic nature only enhanced the fatherly spirit in him, and a firm sense of nobility stood proudly in his eyes. 

A certain kindness radiated from his stern expression, but due to the plethora of burdens that came with being a jarl, there was also a rougher edge to him like thorns on a rose. 

He was no stranger to the idea of mercy, but he wasn’t able to engage with it as often as he wished.

“Father!” Randvi exclaimed, taking her position beside the man.

Arngeir turned around at the sound of her voice, slouching his shoulders in relief.

“Randvi. There you are. I thought you weren’t going to show up.”

The woman replied with a humorous response. “I wasn’t. But then Eivor found me.”

A chuckle escaped her father’s lips. “I understand if you’re hesitant to go through with this wedding, but trust me. Everything will be fine. Sigurd is a good man. I believe he will be a worthy husband.”

“He’s also a prince,” Randvi added, “which means someday I’ll be...”

“...his queen. A daunting task, indeed, but I have faith that you will live up to the challenge.” Arngeir rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Do not fear, Randvi. You are ready for this.”

“I hope so. I’m just worried about the future of our marriage. What if Sigurd and I don’t go well together? What if this turns out to be a disaster?”

Arngeir gave her a reassuring smile. “These thoughts you’re experiencing are quite normal for someone in your situation. Fear is a natural part of change, and marriage can be a life-altering event. But as I said before -- I would not have chosen Sigurd if I did not think he was suitable to be your husband. Even though this wedding is for the good of our clan, I also want to ensure that you are happy as well.”

Randvi took a deep breath, attempting to conceal how much she was shaking. 

“I suppose I won’t know for sure until I meet him myself.”

“Exactly.” Arngeir paused for a moment, suddenly realizing that King Styrbjorn had reached the dock. “But enough of that. The Raven Clan is here. Keep your head high, and do your best to stay calm. The gods are watching over us.”

Turning away from his daughter, the jarl swiftly approached the opposite end of the pier with open arms as Styrbjorn stepped off the longship, eager to return to the feeling of solid ground beneath his feet.

He appeared to be a man of great stature and etiquette just based on the elegancy of his demeanor, but it was no secret to Randvi that he had seen his fair share of battles throughout the years. 

There were many faint scars hiding beneath the surface of his weathered skin, and even though Styrbjorn spent most of his time occupying a throne these days, his hands remained hardened with the callouses of a soldier, implying that the hilt of an axe once sat in his palm.

Though, as age would decree, the muscles that once sharpened his physique had softened over time, and the shaved hair sitting atop his head had been washed with silver. The lids of his eyes hung slightly low with with a tinge of fatigue, and sitting between his brows, Randvi saw the wrinkles of a serious man embedded into his skin.

“King Styrbjorn!” Arngeir called out in a convivial tone. “Welcome to Bjornheimr!”

The older man returned his smile, beaming brightly as he adjusted to the land beneath his boots.

“Arngeir Jarl!” Styrbjorn said boisterously. “Now there’s a face that I haven’t seen nearly enough of.” He pulled Arngeir into a tight embrace, greeting the man with a warm hug. “You look well, my friend. It is a blessing to see you safe in times like these.”

The jarl welcomed the gesture, immediately picking up on the smell of sea salt. “And you, my lord. I trust you had a safe journey from Fornburg?”

Styrbjorn nodded, separating the hug. “We did. Njord graced us with calm waters and strong winds today. We were also lucky enough to avoid Kjotve’s men during the voyage. I’m glad to say our journey was rather uneventful. Though, I fear it may have been too uneventful for my son’s liking.”

Arngeir chuckled. “A warrior’s heart beats inside his chest, just like yours.”

“Indeed,” the king joked, “and it will be the death of me someday.”

Styrbjorn diverted his gaze to the woman at Arngeir’s side, instantly realizing who she was.

“Ah, and you must be Randvi.”

The young viking bowed her head politely, admittedly unsure of how to address Styrbjorn.

“...Yes,” she answered. “I-It’s an honor to meet you, my lord.”

Styrbjorn gently took Randvi’s hand into his grasp, shaking it in an affable manner. “The honor is mine, my lady. Your father has offered nothing but praise in response to the questions I’ve asked about you. I’m certain you’ll make a fine addition to our family.”

“Thank you,” she said, slightly more relaxed. “You’re too kind.”

An extra pair of footsteps thudded on the pier’s wooden surface, causing Styrbjorn to throw a quick glance over his shoulder.

“Ah, but enough about me. Allow me to introduce you to your betrothed.” He placed a hand on his son’s back, presenting him to Randvi.

“My lady Randvi, I’d like you to meet my son. Sigurd.”

Staring silently at the person in front of her, Randvi was met with a young man clothed in noble attire and light armor, similar to the image she had in mind. His face was embellished with a handful of neatly-drawn tattoos, and in the middle of his forehead stood an unfamiliar rune resembling the shape a tree.

The strange part about Sigurd’s appearance though, was that he happened to match the exact description Ingrida described to Randvi earlier. He wasn’t missing an arm like the man in the seeress’ dream, but everything else seemed to be identical.

A certain type of ferocity enhanced the raw ardor in his icy gaze, and with the sun’s light getting trapped between the strands of his red hair, it almost looked as if his head was surrounded by a ring of fire.

He was certainly a sight to behold, even without the context of Ingrida’s vision. He cradled a peculiar flame inside the breast of his soul, and even though he appeared as human as anyone else in Bjornheimr, Randvi couldn’t help but sense something more otherworldly in his presence.

“H-Hello.” Randvi said, sounding much more nervous than she intended. “I’m pleased to finally meet you.”

Surprisingly, Sigurd shared her timidness. “As am I. I’ve heard much about you, my lady.”

Styrbjorn laughed softly at his son’s quiet response. “Have no fear, Randvi. That shyness will wear off soon enough.”

Arngeir agreed with the sentiment. “The same could be said for my daughter.”

The king began making his way off the pier, growing weary of the ocean’s chilled winds. “Well, I think I’ll go help my clan settle in now. We’re planning to pitch camp in the woods outside of Bjornheimr, but I hope it won’t be a bother if some of my men need to share a roof with your people?”

Arngeir shook his head. “Not at all, my lord. Bjornheimr is open to you. We have plenty of open space in the village should your men require more shelter. You’re free to use it.”

“Thank you, my friend. Your hospitality is appreciated. In the meantime,” Styrbjorn looked at his son, “Sigurd, why don’t you stay here with Randvi? Take some time to get to know her, and the locals as well. In two weeks from now, these people will be our family.”

“Of course, father.”

Arngeir’s face lit up with a look of remembrance. “That reminds me -- my people are preparing a feast to welcome your clan. It should be ready before this evening. Your men are welcome to join us at the longhouse.”

Styrbjorn seemed pleased. “A perfect opportunity to bring our people together. I’ll be there.”

“As will I.” Sigurd promised. 

“Wonderful,” Arngeir said. “I’ll let my oldest know. Her name is Thora. She and a few others will make sure the tables are laden with food. You should introduce yourself to her when you find the opportunity, though I fear she’s not quite as sociable as Randvi. I also have a son who’d like to meet you as well. His name is Eivor.”

Styrbjorn made a mental note of that. “I shall keep that in mind. Until then, let us dig our boots into the soil here, and thank the gods for our safe arrival.”

The jarl joined his king as the two of them ventured deeper into Bjornheimr, ready to tackle the rest of the day. “And may they bless us in the days to come.”

Strolling off into the distance, Arngeir and Styrbjorn returned to their lengthy list of duties as life carried on in the village around them, causing the small crowd that had gathered at the harbor to disperse.

Meanwhile, Sigurd and Randvi stayed behind at the docks, rendered silent by an awkward lack of conversation. Neither of them really knew what to do with themselves from here on out, but in spite of that, the young woman had to admit that she was feeling far more relieved than before.

“So,” Randvi started, “I’m curious. Am I what you expected?”

Sigurd turned his head towards the young woman as he examined her, revealing a strange mark on the side of his neck. 

“Yes, actually. Though, you are a bit taller than I pictured.” An inquisitive expression spread across his face. “...What about me? Did you think I would look like this?”

“No,” Randvi answered honestly. “Not at all. D-Don’t get me wrong, though. I’m not disappointed.”

Sigurd chuckled lightly. “Glad to hear it. I must admit -- I was somewhat nervous before coming here. I had no idea what I would be walking into or what kind of person you would be. So far though, I’m pleasantly surprised.”

The woman found some comfort in his words. “I’m relieved. These past few days have been filled to the brim with stress. It’s good to finally set things in motion.”

“Agreed.”

Randvi gestured to the other areas of the village, beckoning Sigurd to follow her. “Would you... like me to show you around before the feast starts? Bjornheimr has many places to see. I could also introduce you to my siblings, if you like.”

The man smiled cordially. “Of course.”

“Great. Thora should be at the longhouse, but... I’m not sure where Eivor is right now. He was at the temple the last time I saw him, but if we can’t find him, I’m certain he’ll show up at the feast. He’d never miss the opportunity to get a fresh cup of mead.”

Sigurd smirked in amusement. “A man after my own heart.”

Randvi returned the jest. “You might change your mind once you meet him, but I digress. Shall we?”

“Lead on.”

Finally removing himself from the ocean’s vicinity after a long day of traveling, Sigurd stuck to Randvi’s side as she led him away from the bustling harbor, enthusiastic to spend more time with her betrothed.

The two of them had only known each other for a few moments, and yet, Randvi got the impression that Sigurd was far gentler than his exterior suggested him to be. His appearance resembled that of a war-weathered vikingr who knew only stoicism, but his personality seemed to stem from a heart of honor and compassion.

The one thing about him that concerned Randvi so far was how accurate Ingrida’s vision had proven to be. Nothing about Sigurd gave off the impression that he harbored any malicious intent, but that didn’t stop the young woman from wondering if the seeress’ instincts were correct. 

The timing of Freya’s collapse struck Randvi as somewhat odd now that she thought about it, and the fact that Ingrida dreamt about the god of war beforehand did nothing to ease her nerves. 

She had to admit that she was beginning to understand the old woman’s fears surrounding this wedding, but alas, it was too late to back out of it now.

And so, with a quick change of the subject, Randvi brushed off her worries for the time being and simply focused on getting to know her betrothed. She was just as clueless as Ingrida when it came to the events of the near-future, but she figured it would be pointless fretting about it now.

The fires of this alliance were already being stoked, after all, and there was little she could do to snuff it out. She may as well have just drifted off with the waves, and allowed the tides of fate to do their job.

[raendown]

A gift to @sakxuraz for the @tobiizugiftexchange, I hope you enjoy! 

Pairing: IzunaTobirama Word count: 4398 Rated: T+ Summary: Building a village with other clan-packs wasn't a terrible idea in theory. In practice it opened the door for all sorts of miscommunication as they all navigated the difficulties of integrating not only as humans but in their secondary animal forms as well. What does a cat know of birds? More importantly, what is he willing to learn?

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

A Word For Home

Coming from a clan more disposed to mammalian second forms, living with a bunch of birds was strange in many ways. Tobirama was more than used to seeing family and close friends groom each other but the ways in which Uchiha showed their affections seemed incredibly odd in his eyes. So odd that in many cases he wasn’t actually aware what the purpose of such gestures were supposed to be until he was informed so later on. 

The first time Izuna brought him a handful of leaves he could only stare, mind racing as he tried to figure out what sort of insult was being offered to him. Each leaf was a different shade and all of them newly shed by autumn trees. After a full minute of silence he looked up to see the other man watching him intently with his dark eyes wide in anticipation, waiting for some sort of reaction, and Tobirama hoped his utter lack of any expression was as disappointing as he was sure his rage was meant to be amusing. 

“I have plenty of leaves in my own front lawn,” he rumbled. Then he had turned to sweep away, missing the dejected slump of Izuna’s shoulders before there came the rushing pull of a change. Even without looking he knew the sound of strong wings hurrying away. When he dared to look back the leaves were arranged carefully on the ground in some unrecognizable pattern. He left them there. 

An isolated incident like that could have easily been forgotten, written off as nothing more than yet another attempt to annoy him over petty grudges, if it hadn’t been the beginning of an utterly strange trend. The second time Izuna approached him the man came bearing an armful of cloth all with different brightly colored patterns. At first glance Tobirama thought it to be a small mountain of clothing but a closer look told him the bundle wasn’t even that much, just scraps of varying sizes all piled on top of each other. They were at least neatly folded. Still, he might have no idea what insult the man was trying to imply but he had more important things to do than to indulge his rival’s pointless games. 

“There is a laundromat just down this street if you were looking for somewhere to clean your rags,” he advised stiffly. 

“Rags?” Somehow Izuna managed to insert such a heavy amount of dejection in to his tone that for a moment Tobirama almost thought him genuinely saddened by the denial. Then he came to his senses. 

“Fly away, little raven, I have things that need to be done today.” 

With that he brushed past and paid no attention to the trill that followed him down the path. His mind was already full of the blueprints he and a team of Nara had been working on for the new hospital. 

After that it seemed as though he ran in to Izuna around every other corner and every time he found something being presented to him as though it were some great treasure. Yet without fail each so-called gift turned out to be nothing more than scrap and chaff, never anything of value but neither could Tobirama make heads or tails of what this game was meant to be. He would have asked if it wouldn't have felt so much like losing. 

In his office Izuna brought him a spool of wire. On his front porch was left a basket of untreated wool. Turning corners in the marketplace he found his hands full of old blankets that had clearly seen their share of use. For the life of him he couldn’t seem to connect any of these offerings together. With every new piece of junk in Izuna’s hands Tobirama only grew more and more confused. The two of them were no longer enemies by any stretch, not since their clans had formed a pact to share the same territory several years before, and although they weren’t exactly the best of friends they had managed to achieve a unique sort of equilibrium that worked for them. Casually sniping each other with pointed - if dull - insults might look to anyone else as though they hated each other but Tobirama had been secretly thrilled to have someone who finally understood his particular brand of communication. 

The more bits and bobs of random materials Izuna attempted to give him, however, the more he began to question whether he had grievously misunderstood something. Jabs and jests he could understand. Pranks, on the other hand, had never been part of their repertoire. Oh he had seen Izuna pull the wool over other people’s eyes before and he’d been woken more than once by the eagle scream of Madara caught in some trap or another by his precious little sibling. Until now Tobirama himself had seemed to be the only person who escaped such treatment. He’d assumed his counterpart understood that he was not the sort of person to trifle with such things. 

Curling under his desk in the brisk morning air, autumn hovering just at the edge of winter, Tobirama was grateful to his second form for both its warmth and smaller stature at the moment. Naturally resistant to the cold and easily capable of hiding under the desk like a child, Tobirama closed his eyes and laid his head down atop crossed paws. Above him Izuna could be heard rustling around. Whatever today’s gift was it apparently required more space than had been left on the desk and clearly the remedy for that was to ruin several hours worth of careful organization rather than just leave it on the floor.

“Bastard probably heard me coming and scarpered.” The tone of irritation was almost more familiar than the sound of his voice. 

From his hiding spot Tobirama cracked one heavy eyelid in agreement. That was exactly what he’d done. Never had it been so convenient to be able to slip away from even the Sharingan’s detection. While there were definite limitations in not having access to chakra in this form, the fact that it left one nigh undetectable by sensors was a clear bonus that he was happy to take advantage of now. 

It took only a minute or two of patience before Tobirama found himself alone in the room once again, celebrating the much needed peace by stretching out his front paws and flexing each toe to watch his claws appear and retract. With a great yawn that curled his tongue he brought his paws back to fold underneath his head once more as though truly contemplating the notion of an early morning nap. He could use it. Even if he knew very well that he would never actually sleep when there was work to be done it was nice to pretend for a bit that he could be just as lazy as any house cat. Only after his sensitive ears heard the sound of another office door closing down the hall did he finally crawl his way out from under the desk, pausing to shake out his body and resettle any displaced fur. 

As he did so the motion of his reflection in the window drew his gaze and Tobirama blinked thoughtfully at the great snow leopard staring back at him from the glass. It had occurred to him, of course, that whatever Izuna was up to might not be a prank but he hadn’t considered before that it might have something to do with the Uchiha propensity for avian forms. Cocking his head to one side and watching his ears flop, he considered it now. How many times had he seen Uchiha flitting about through the forest collecting twigs and leaves and dismissed it without curiosity? So few of their clan had warmed up to him still and he’d returned such lukewarm sentiments with an utter lack of care for learning their ways beyond what tidbits he picked up from interacting with Kagami. Now he sat back on his haunches and wondered if perhaps he shouldn't sacrifice a little of his pride after all. 

Later, though. For now he had work to do. 

With today’s confusing gift already delivered, Tobirama was able to coast through the rest of his work without the tension of waiting for something unknown. By the time his desk was clear and the sun began to set behind him it felt as though he’d been able to get nearly twice as much done as the past week put together. It was amazing what he could accomplish when he was actually able to concentrate. He left the office with a surprising amount of energy left; just enough that he thought he might be able to deal with the humiliation of asking for help from his brother. 

For such a late hour the streets were still quite packed with people running a few evening errands and couples venturing out to meet for dates. Just in the time it took him to reach the Senju compound Tobirama passed three couples holding hands, two making out in places they probably thought were inconspicuous, and one in the midst of a proposal that did not seem to be very well received. Peace, it seemed, was quite the aphrodisiac for many people once they finally settled in to the concept of it. After that first uncertain year had passed and their peoples got used to sharing the same territory it was as though half the population was suddenly caught up in some unseasonal mating frenzy. Strange how priorities changed when one didn’t need to spend every moment of every day fearing for one’s life. 

“Tadaima!” His own voice echoed back to him when he stepped inside, mingling with the sound of the door clicking shut behind him. As he kicked off his shoes he frowned and strained his ears. No sound. A quick sweep showed the building empty to his senses as well. Either he was home alone for the evening or Hashirama and Mito were not walking on two legs. 

Since the questions knocking about in his mind weren’t exactly urgent he took the time to stop by his bedroom and change his clothing, shedding the dust and sweat of a long day in favor of well-worn cotton soft on his skin, comfortable loungewear he would never be caught dead in outside the home. Then he wandered through the living room, the kitchen, the green room filled with plants where he often found Hashirama napping when he was meant to be doing so many other things. Nowhere was there any sign of life until he happened to glance out the back window and spotted two massive forms huddled together in the backyard. 

Unobserved, he allowed himself a moment to simply watch with a smile. It had always struck him as particularly funny that when human Hashirama was about as clumsy as they come but in the form of a bear he somehow managed to exude grace and calm. Even as he tore in to the strip of raw meat clearly serving as his dinner he looked more adorable than terrifying. The same could not be said of his wife. An empress in all but title on two legs, it had been a surprise to learn that her secondary form was also that of the bear until the first time Tobirama witnessed her tearing in to an enemy with tooth and claw. Hashirama might be a cute docile little sun bear but his wife was a brown bear ready to rampage the instant she perceived a threat to the ones she saw as her own. It was oddly fitting.

At the moment, however, the two of them were doing nothing more violent than partaking of a meal together and Tobirama was loath to disturb such a domestic scene. He contented himself with a plateful of leftovers from the previous evening’s dinner and ate alone at the kitchen table with fingers and chopsticks while he waited. The sun was barely finished setting and he had only just finished washing his dishes when the other two made it back inside. A whuffing moan greeted him, to which he rolled his eyes. 

“I do not speak bear, Anija. Such uncouth noises.”

“So mean,” Hashirama pouted as he flowed back to humanity with the seamless grace of someone who had made the change countless times before. “We were going to leave some for you but you never came outside so I ate your meat.” 

“Thank you, but I was content with stew.” 

Mito narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at him but said nothing, only reached out to bring the tips of her fingers against his shoulder. He accepted the gesture with a nod before looking back to his brother. 

“Can I ask you a few questions? You would know more about the Uchiha than I do.” His should have known better than to be so vague. The words had hardly left his mouth when Hashirama froze in the act of searching out an after dinner snack, turning to look at him with an already exhausted expression. 

“Oh Tobi-” he started to say.

“I didn’t do anything!” Tobirama protested. “Not this time, at least. I just wondered if you could give me a little insight in to some of their habits. If you’re going to be a dick about it I can always find someone else to ask.” 

“No! I’m sorry! Please don’t ask anyone else. What, ah, what did you want to know?” 

Hashirama offered him a cute little smile but it fooled no one. They both knew all he wanted was to make sure Tobirama didn’t go asking the wrong questions to the wrong person and starting a fight with his habitual bluntness. Still, if it got him the answers he wanted right now he was willing to overlook the lack of faith this once. 

Just because his brother had a point didn’t mean he had to be so obvious about it. 

“If I describe a certain behavior that I’ve observed could you tell me if you know the reasoning behind it?” Tobirama waited until he received an attentive nod before going on. “Right. Say one person is bringing things to another and presenting them as if they’re gifts. Except all of these ‘gifts’ are pieces of scrap or garbage or even just leaves off the ground. Does that sound like any sort of Uchiha-specific behavior to you or just some kind of very elaborate prank?”

For several heartbeats his brother stared at him, almost like he was trying to determine whether or not that was a serious question, until finally he pulled off a signature personality flip by sliding straight in to a swoon. 

“Whoever you’ve been watching, they’re so lucky!” he declared. 

“Lucky?”

“Yes! It seems they’ve caught someone’s eye!”

Tobirama scowled. “You know I hate it when you make such poor attempts at humor, Anija.” 

“But it’s not a joke! I’m serious, that sounds just like how an Uchiha behaves when they’re trying to catch the interest of a potential mate!” Hashirama sniffled, wounded to be accused of making jokes. Or perhaps wounded that his terrible sense of humor had been so rightly assessed. It didn’t matter. Tobrama was much more interested in the utterly ridiculous bullshit his sibling was trying to feed him. 

“How does bringing someone litter off the ground or used rags translate as an offer to mate?”

Immediately affecting another swoon, Hashirama sighed like a woman from one of his trashy romance novels. “The gifts aren’t litter, they’re materials! Madara explained it to me once when his secretary kept trying to bring him twigs. When an Uchiha wants to mate with someone they bring them whatever materials they think could be used to make a nice nest for them both. Things like leaves and cloth might be the lining, wood and sticks might be used for the main structure, even pretty little baubles that might just be for decorating! I think it’s really sweet. They build homes together!” 

“Nests. That’s...they were all...nesting materials.” Swallowing felt suddenly three times more difficult than it should have been. “I need to sit down.”

“You’re already sitting down?”

“I need to lay down.”

Hashirama blinked at him, studied him closely. It took several moments but a slow grin began to form that stretched his face with a maniacal sort of joy. “It’s you! You’re the one who’s been getting these mating gifts! Someone is trying to court you!”

“According to you he is asking me to bond with him permanently!” Tobirama had never felt so close to a panic attack in his life. 

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” 

“Because I had thought his opinions of me to be mere tolerance! I had no idea he felt anything like this! What do I even do with this information, Anija!?” 

“Oh I don’t know. You could try accepting a gift or two? Going out on a date? You could tell me who it is! Is it that very pretty lad who works in the mission room? No! It’s that quiet man in the archives! I knew I saw him looking at your bottom that day! This is just so sweet, I am just so happy for you!” Hashirama’s arms struck like a pair of sun-browned cobras to wrap around his neck and squeeze tight. “My little baby brother is all grown up and finding a mate!”

It took squirming, yelling, and a smidgen of violence to extract himself from such an unwarranted embrace. By the time he struggled himself free Hashirama had nearly soaked one shoulder of his previously clean yukata with tears and snot. Delightful. Only years of training in speed and flexibility allowed him to escape the kitchen without being dragged in to another hug, hurrying down the hall to lock himself in to his bedroom where he staunchly ignored the whining coming through his door. Hashirama could be happy for him all he liked. That didn’t make it any easier to process the revelation that had just been dropped on him unexpectedly. 

So Izuna was attempting to court him with the intention of mating. Tobirama knew as well as anyone else who spent any amount of time around their clan that the Uchiha mated for life, unwilling to commit themselves to something of that magnitude unless they were certain it was what they wanted for the rest of their lives. Now that he had finally cottoned on to what was actually happening he needed to figure out how he felt about it before taking any action. 

Did he want this too? 

Waiting for sleep that night was made harder by the familiar chakra creeping up and down the hall to check whether or not his bedroom was still locked several times. His brother never had been able to understand proper boundaries. Either he finally gave up or Mito grew tired of him rustling about and tied him down somewhere but whatever the case Tobirama did eventually fall asleep. By his best estimate, however, when he woke again he had only dreamt for perhaps a little more than three hours. 

He made sure to avoid his brother on his way out of the house the next morning, detouring through the marketplace to pick up something to break his fast. For once in his life he was actually grateful to the swarm of people who mobbed him the moment he stepped inside the administration tower. Any other day he would have been annoyed to have so much extra work shoved in to his hands before he even made it to his own office but today it was nice to have something that demanded his attention, something to occupy his mind without the gnawing guilty feeling of knowing he was only avoiding the inevitable. With his arms full of fresh paperwork he marched his way up the stairs and buried his face in whichever scroll he was able to unroll without upsetting the whole pile. A distraction was only good if he let himself sink in to it. 

Of course, he’d known the moment he left home that he would only have so much time before the very thing he spent all night giving his deepest considerations to would come barging in and demanding even more of his attention. As he watched the door swing open Tobirama supposed that he should at least appreciate that Izuna had allowed him an hour or so of peace to settle in. 

“Morning!” Under the cheer of his tone Izuna’s smile was wan, almost false, though whether he was losing hope or if he’d simply not slept well the night before was unclear. 

“What do you have for me today?” Tobirama asked.

After a moment of startled blinking Izuna was quick to hold out the small bundle of cloth in his arms. “Before you ask, no, none of them have an uchiwa on them.”

Tobirama hummed and bent his neck for a closer look. Clothing, although different from the last similar offering. Before he had been offered well used scraps that - he understood now - would have carried a great deal of  sentimental value and made a very potent addition to any nest. These clothes were much newer looking and yet his sharp nose told him the other man had very carefully worn every item in that pile at least once to coat them with his scent. Not quite as important to avians but to a cat scent was everything.

When he reached out to accept the bundle he got the distinct impression that Izuna only barely stopped himself from fainting. 

“Since I won’t be wearing them,” he mumbled, “I don’t suppose it matters whose mon they have stitched on them.”

“You...took them. You took them? You took them from me. I think I’m asleep.” Izuna reached across himself to pinch his own arm without breaking eye contact. 

“If you had perhaps used your words I might have been inclined to accept your, ah, offers a little sooner.”

Tobirama’s hand twitched with the urge to scrub at the back of his neck with embarrassment, though he managed to keep himself from doing it. He would probably never admit it to the man but he owed Hashirama a great deal for explaining things to him the way he had. As much as he would absolutely be teasing Izuna about this it was a very good thing his old rival had never actually explained what his gifts were meant for. Having someone else clue him in gave Tobirama the chance he needed to panic in private, get past the instinctual need to run, and actually face the emotions he had apparently been repressing for longer than he wished to acknowledge. 

“Does this- you do know what that is, right?” Izuna asked carefully. He visibly held his breath when met with a slow nod. 

“Yes. I do. Well, now I do.” And that was all he hoped he would have to say about that. “You should probably know that snow leopards do not make nests.”

“No?”

“Our dens don’t require much personalization so I will need your guidance on how to go about this. If we’re both to be comfortable then I’ll want to make sure our nest is to your specifications.” Tobirama very much hoped his cheeks were not as red as they were warm. Romance and mates had never been something that took up many of his thoughts, never a subject he felt much of a need to pursue. It was lucky for him, then, that he seemed to have fallen in love with someone willing to pursue him instead. 

If Izuna had been blessed with four legs in his second form he would no doubt have begun purring raucously in the moment it finally hit him that this was real. Since his vocal chords were not shaped for that he instead broke out in to the toothiest, smuggest grin that Tobirama had ever seen. It was a terribly good look on him. 

A low, pleased trill echoed up his throat as he stepped forward until they were pressed together, chest to chest, and lifting his chin to nuzzle against the underside of Tobirama’s jaw. It was a surprisingly gentle gesture from someone whose usual method of showing he cared was a well timed insult aimed straight for the weak points. Even more endearing - and even more surprising - were the hands that brushed their way up the length of Tobirama’s abdomen to rest softly against his chest. Unassuming, unasking, reaching out yet still allowing space. How could a man do anything but pull him in to a loose embrace and close his eyes to bask?

“Mate,” Izuna whispered against the skin of his throat. “I’ve been incredibly patient for the honor of calling you that.”

“You have indeed,” Tobirama admitted. 

“I think I deserve a little something for my troubles.”

A smile lifted the corners of Tobirama’s mouth. “I might be convinced to compensate you if the request isn’t too ridiculous.” 

He was answered by another soft trill that plucked at his heartstrings in ways he never would have been able to admit if Izuna had not made the first move. Though finding a mate had never been a priority in his plans for the future he would have to give up his title of ‘genius’ to turn down an offer of happiness like this one. 

“Would you be willing to share a bit more of your nest building customs? I would hate to offend by accident so early in our bond.” 

“Before we worry about offending anything we should, oh I don’t know, maybe get busy forming the bond,” Izuna suggested. His tone by itself was suggestive enough even before he pulled away a scant inch or two to lock their gazes with a filthy leer. Tobirama tried to resist but it was no good. He smiled helplessly, the first of many capitulations to come. 

“I am eager to learn any part of you that you wish to share,” he said. 

And if perhaps under the suggestiveness of his own words he had cleverly hidden the softest parts of his heart laid bare, well, it was only right of him to share every part of himself with his new mate as well. 

[hdgewitch-a]

✤ do it

memory meme. | ACCEPTING.a memory that involves love.

During her hundred-forty-seventh night at Aretuza, Keira disappears.

It’s not the first time, naturally. It’s obvious in the way she waits in the dark, eyes wide—though there’s no childlike glee or worry, not anymore. She slips out of the room once she counts the breaths of her roommate, and hugs the wall as she slinks through the barely-lit halls of Aretuza. They’re lonely enough in the daytime, she thinks, quiet as they are. It’s something about the time of night that makes them lonelier, suffocating. The hairs on the back of her neck do not fall until she’s no longer under a tall, imposing roof, but instead under the stars. It’s pretty out here, surely, but Thanedd’s always been prettiest when Keira’s away. She opens the portal with a flick of her wrist, a practiced action, and when she emerges, she’s surrounded by the trees.

Forests have never been Keira’s preferred area to dwell in. Nothing could really beat a bustling city, with lights so bright it didn’t matter if it was night or day. And forests were cold, windy, damp, dirty, among other, far more unpleasant things. This neck of the woods is familiar than most, if nothing else. She imagines that she’s walked past this rock, the large, hulking thing at least thirty times already. Not to mention, at the end of the woods, there’s something she’s looking for…

“There y’are,” a voice calls out, from the dark. Keira’s heart flutters, though not with fear.

“Olivier,” she responds with a kind smile, and runs to him. “Class exercise. Sorry I’m late.”

She expects his next words, the ones he says with a click in his mouth and a shake of his head, “I still don’t get why y’don’t just ditch ‘em, come live with me folks.”

In the same way he must expect hers, “There’s nowhere else for me.”

She’d met him three months ago while she’d attempted to navigate these very woods. Frustrated with herself, angry at her mentors, and on the verge of deserting for good, she’d found something charming in Olivier’s laugh, the movement of his body as he spoke. Even now, she smiles as he recounts some meaningless story about his Pa and the ewes, laughs at the noises he makes when he speaks of his father’s fury. Keira had fallen in love with his faults, sought to dig into them and pull them out. A prince of her own making.

Olivier turns to her in the middle of speaking, as though he’s come up with a great idea of his own, “Let’s take the long way ‘round, I’ve been dying to show y’somethin’.”

Keira, impulsive, in the mood for something new, agrees.

The ‘long way ‘round’ is, as Keira soon finds out, close to a cliffside overlooking the town from which Olivier hails. “Folks stopped usin’ the bridge here ‘bout twenty or so years back, but I’ve been on it a coupl’a times, mostly when I’m pissed at my pa. Bloody gorgeous, up there. If a wee bit of jiggling don’t bug you overmuch.” He winks, and Keira’s face lights up.

“Perhaps you ought to carry me, I’ll feel much safer in your arms,” she jests, and is surprised when Olivier actually does scoop her up. “Oh!”

“Gods! Lighter’n the sheep, you are!” he laughs.

Apparently, the bridge doesn’t seem to agree. She notices it two steps in, and begins to panic once they’re halfway across it, “Put me down, put me down right now,” she demands, but he’s laughing and calling her scared, but she senses it, in the air. She doesn’t know how she knows but she knows, until—

It breaks underneath them, and then they’re falling.

Fuck, shit, fuck—Keira doesn’t know any of the spells that make you float (and damn whatever proper term those spells might have), for she’d been only half-awake when those were discussed. What is there to do, the ground isn’t far below but it would hurt and she doesn’t want to hurt, think you absolute fool—

She opens a portal underneath her, and she forgets her company until he’s yelling at her, five meters apart.

“You’re—You’re a fucking witch.” It’s spoken like a question, shouted like an accusation, and Keira scrabbles to get up, to walk towards him, to stare at him dumbly. He’s not dead, but he would’ve had to fall on something to achieve that. Keira tries to keep her examination practical, to keep the panic from fraying the edge of her mind. His leg is bent something awful. A chunk of skin torn off it. Blood pools around him.

“You’re hurt.”

“Get the fuck off me!” he yells, frightened, angered. The worst part of it all is that somewhere in the back of her mind, Keira had always known that one day, it would end in this exact manner. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”

Tissaia had reminded her of that very thing, the first time she’d threatened to leave. Where will you go, impudent child? To the family that hates you? You claim to seek a new one? Nobody cares for an untrained mage, the uneducated hate them. There is no place for you but here, Metz.

“You’ve a broken rib, and I don’t know anything to fix it, I…”

His breathing is unsteady. Weak. “You will not touch me with your magic.” It comes out in short breaths, like the blood that seeps into the ground. It’s all she can do to try and keep him from bleeding out in front of her. It’s pointless. He’s shouting, and there must be a group of people coming, or perhaps they’re wolves (but wolves don’t carry torches with them) and Keira doesn’t quite want to leave him because she’s sure she cares for him in a way she can’t quite express, but he’s shouting about her being a mage, so she has to go. Tissaia is shaking her head at Keira, watching her fuck another person’s life up because she just couldn’t learn how to stay away.

You can’t trust anyone else.

—

“Just trust me, okay?” he hisses to her, with the sort of intensity that Keira can really only blink at. His hand outstretched, his gaze a mix of worry, adrenaline, and go go go we have to go now, and she nibbles the skin off her lower lip, thinking with time they don’t have. “We’re not dying over this. But you have to trust me.”

She takes his hand, gives a gentle smile, “With my life, Jonathan.”

[tokupedia]

Since Star Wars is classified as toku in Japan, we need to discuss this. The pockets of Star Wars fandom that hates the prequels was and sometimes still are so toxic and petty, that Mr. Best was AFRAID to appear at a convention and at one point in his life considered committing suicide. He fears for his life, no one, and I mean no one in the entertainment industry who has done nothing wrong and only did their job for a paycheck should ever feel that way. 

I admit to mentioning Jar Jar by comparing Ferbus to him, but that was only a comparison to the negativity that character has for the Kamen Rider fanbase, and even then I admit now that is a bit much and a little inaccurate. Rider Fans wouldn’t wish Verne Troyer dead back when he was still living and most of us just mock in (hopefully) harmless jest and not in the context of outright toxic behavior. Enough time has passed that we’ve gotten over any hangups and can innocently laugh about it with no harmful and extreme negative feelings, as it is pointless to put so much time and energy into something so insignificant 3 decades after the fact.

People in the Star Wars toxic fandoms have severely overvalued a thing when selfish ire results in the mental and near physical harm of an actor, who I might add is a father and a husband.  Your childhood wasn’t ruined, if anything the fact valuing a thing to such a toxic extreme tells us there is something wrong going on in your life and its best to talk to somebody about it, like your family or a therapist.  

It is fine to love something, take from a crazy man who loves Karate Bugmen, Rainbow Warriors with Robots, Giant Aliens who shoot lasers from their arms and every comic hero under the sun. But you reach a point in your life as an adult where you realize that your passions should be tempered with reality and you really should give pause to think about the people who work on them. 

Do I dislike Kamen Rider Zi-O right now? Yes, at times, its frustrating how they handle things in continuity at times. But I don’t hurl death threats at Shinichiro Shirakura or Seiji Takaiwa, it makes me and the entire fanbase I represent look bad. Everyone at Toei will make another show eventually in the fall seasons to come that I might enjoy. Regardless, it is better to appreciate the efforts of creative works in some way since it keeps what we love going and keeps people working so they can pay their bills and feed their families. 

The latter part should be more of what we focus on when it comes to flawed works : ”Sure, the movie is poorly written, but the costumes are really good, I hope the people who made them got work in other movies after this!” “Eh, not great, but it had fantastic stunt choreography!”  or if it is really bad (like Troll 2 bad), just have an innocent fun Rifftrax night with your friends and thank the people who made the film for giving you some entertainment value out of it. Art is interpretive after all.

[sevi007]

In the morning (there is meaning)

Rating: General Audience

Pairing: Eva x Sparda

Warnings: None, bare captivities from all the sweet fluff

Summary: Eva has known all kinds of mornings, good and bad. These, however, might have been her favorites: The ones where the ones she loved most where right there with her, greeting her before the dawn could.

I will post the link for AO3 in a reblog, since tumblr apparently doesn’t show posts with links in them anymore in the search results? I heard.

Little something I pieced together on my phone, at night, whenever I couldn’t sleep the last week. Pointless fluff in the form of morning cuddles, purring husbands and baby twins.

(I apologize in advance for typos, I’m not really great at typing on my phone. XD)

_____________________________________________________________

Eva couldn’t have said what had woken her when she sleepily blinked her eyes open. One moment she had been deep in dreamless slumber, and the next she was awake, slightly disoriented by the abruptness of it.

Yet it only took her a blurry second or two to note the change in the body pressed up against her.

Familiar warmth, a secure arm resting over her hips, was usual.

The rigidness of muscles and breath held tight in the chest next to her ear, was not.

All the signs of an animal readying itself for the jump.

 Adrenaline rushed through her, pushing away the last threads of sleep still clinging to her mind. Forcing herself to keep her breath even as not make noise and disturb Sparda’s sharp hearing, she waited, ready to get her feet in a moment’s notice if he gave any sign that there was something amiss. While her body kept still, her mind raced – remembering if she had put her weapon well within her reach, figuring out how fast she could be down the hallway and there to protect the twins.

 Then, Sparda realised the breath he had held in a great rush, body gradually relaxing next to her again. Only then did he gaze down to where she was watching him intently. He blinked once, eyebrow arching, - the only sign of surprise she would get - before his features softened and he whispered, “Just the boys.”

That was enough to send a flood of relief through Eva and she sighed, all but collapsing back to the mattress and his side again “Oh, thank god.”

Quiet laughter shook her, and a hand rose to stroke reassuringly through her hair. Soft and comforting enough it would have lulled her to sleep any other time, hadn’t it been for the way her heart was still pounding after that shock.

 Cracking one eye open, she craned her neck to see the window and almost sighed again when she noted there was little to no light streaming in yet. Before sunrise, then. Well. There had been times when the twins hadn’t slept through more than very few hours, so she supposed it was slowly getting better.

The caresses had stopped and she turned to look up and meet Sparda’s gaze. There was a wry smile curling around his lips, and she could tell he was thinking something similar to her own train of thought.

 Before she could comment on it, however, she heard it too, this time – a soft creak outside in the hallway, wood shifting under light steps, the hint of hushed voices.

The door opened with a squeak of its hinges, and a mop of white hair popped up in the gap. Followed by a second one, moving a bit too quickly, the motion knocking the two together. A pained hiss, some shushing, more whispering. A last, decisive hiss. Grumbling that sounded definitely a tad sulky.

Eva and Sparda exchanged a fond look, both barely keeping quiet instead of bursting into laughter.

 “Father?”

The polite voice had both adults shush each other, laughter twinkling in their eyes, before Sparda spoke up, “Yes?”

“Is Mum awake?” This question was slightly louder than the first one, causing more hissing from the twin who had spoken first. “Ah. Sorry.”

“Why don’t you ask me that yourself, boys?” Eva asked, the laugh seeping into her voice. Propping herself up onto her elbow so she could peer over Sparda’s shoulder, she waved at the children. “Good morning!”

“Mum!”

Both small faces fairly glowed with happiness as they spotted her – before dropping into matching frowns, much to Eva’s surprise.

“We didn’t wake you…,” Vergil asked, exchanging a quick, worried look with Dante, “Did we?”

“Can’t be,” Dante insisted, though he didn’t look quite convinced, “We were quiet!”

“Perhaps…”

 “Boys, boys,” knowing this could degenerate into a full-blown discussion if she let it, Eva soothed them instantly, albeit confused. “You didn’t wake me. Why would that be a bad thing, anyway?”  

The boys sobered up immediately, looking extremely serious all of sudden – and Eva almost broke down laughing when she noted just how similar to their father they could look when they wrinkled their noses like…

Yes. That, she thought fondly as Dante sniffled, a picture of offense. “Dad said we’re not allowed to wake you up when you’re sleeping.”

“It’s the rule,” Vergil emphasized, nodding very seriously.

 Hearing that had Eva raising her eyebrows in surprise, blinking. It wasn’t often that Sparda set up rules for the children, something they had agreed upon after his own request. He was convinced, and she understood, that what little he remembered from his own upbringing would not be what they wanted for their children.

It seemed odd now, how this trivial little thing was something he had insisted upon.

Unable to catch her husband’s gaze since he had rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillows, Eva mentally shrugged it off and smiled at the boys instead. “Well, I was awake already. Was there something you two needed, boys?”

A quick glance was a shared between the boys, silently communicating. Dante was the one to turn and pipe up, bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet. “Can we stay here?”

“We couldn’t sleep anymore,” Vergil chimed in. “And will be really quiet.”

“Please?”

 Eva had already started to smile fondly after the first question. Drawing a soft caress down Sparda’s neck with one finger, she waited until he purred, tilting his head back to look at her. The curl of his knowing smirk was all she needed to decide. They were thinking along the same line, as they did so often.  

Pushing herself up and a bit away from her husband, opening up a space between the two of them just big enough for two little boys, she gestured to her sons. “Come here, you two.”

 Given the permission, there was no hesitation from Dante’s side anymore. A brilliant smile stretched over the boy’s face as he rushed across the room, bare feet going taptaptap, before scrambling up onto the mattress and crawling across it, all flailing limbs and pure enthusiasm. He even settled on the direct route to his mother, meaning that he climbed all over the prone form of his father without any consideration.

The distinct, muffled sound of tiny knees and elbows hitting the man was met with a half-hearted grumble from Sparda.  

Even though she knew this was nowhere near something that could actually hurt him, Eva winced sympathetically for her husband. “Sweetie, be a bit more careful with your father.”

Pausing in his climbing, perched atop his father’s broad back, Dante considered that, looking curiously from his mother to his father. As if to prove a point, he jumped one more time up and down – Eva winced again, even though she had to bite back a snort, this little rascal – and wondered, “Why? I don’t think he even noticed me!”

“I did,” came the reply, muffled by the pillow Sparda didn’t lift his face from, “And you would do good to remember that I know quite well how ticklish you are, little one.”

 It was almost comical, how quickly Dante’s grin fell off his face, replaced by a look of wide-eyed horror and sheer offense. With a squeaking yelp, the boy basically leapt from his father’s back straight onto the mattress next to his mother, scrambling to curl into the safety of her arms. “Mum, don’t let him tickle me!”

“Don’t worry, you’re safe,” Eva promised, wrapping one arm around the dramatically whining boy while she faked a glower at her husband. “We ticklish people have to stick together.”

There was laughter in those bright eyes when Sparda turned his had enough so he could blink at the two of them lazily, cocking an eyebrow. He seemed to consider pursuing the subject – with more joking threats most likely – but when he meet the two offended gazes directed his way, he snorted quietly, features softening.

Dante watched warily over his mother’s arm as his father reached out, only to burst out giggling when his nose was tapped gently by one long finger. “Ey!”

“Keep your elbows to yourself, little one,” Sparda’s voice was nearly a purr, deep and lazy. “And I will desist from all tickling.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

 A sudden weight dipping the mattress had all three of them looking down. Vergil, more considerate on some subjects than his brother, had crawled from the foot of the mattress up between the two adults. Kneeling between them, he pondered something, before grinning brightly. “I’m not ticklish.”  

Instantly, Dante pouted again, drawing Eva’s arm tighter around himself as if for comfort. “I don’t want to be, either.”

“You get that from your mother.”

“Oh, it’s Mother’s fault?”

“… Thanks, Mum.”

“Hey!” Eva protested while all her three boys started laughing at her offense, ranging from deep and quiet to high and loud. Rolling her eyes dramatically towards the ceiling, she grumbled, “Oh sure, now I’m the one to blame.”

“Well…”

“Oh, shush,” she ordered the man, snorting loudly when she heard him scoot away from her in jest, as if fearing her wrath.

 Tiny hands tugged at her sleeve and wrapped gently around strands of her hair, drawing her attention from the ceiling back to her sons.

“Don’t worry, Mum,” Vergil started, petting her hair gently.

“We still love you!” Dante declared, tugging insistently at the cloth in his grip.

“Lots and lots!” They both chorused, matching grins stretching from ear to ear.

Warmth and love spread through her, and there was no way Eva could have held onto her playful pouting while met with such earnest affection. She rolled around to have both arms to use and pulled the giggling and laughing boys into an embrace, dropping dozens of kisses all over their faces in rapid succession. “And I love you, lots and lots!”

“Muuuum!”

“I can’t breathe!”

Despite their giggled complaints, both twins enthusiastically met her affections, grapping onto her as best as they could. Once she released them, they both pressed an exaggerated kiss to her cheeks with a loud “Mwah!”.

 All three collapsed onto the mattress in a heap, all sprawled limbs and breathless laughter. They glanced up when a quiet rustle sounded. Sparda drew the previously discarded blanket over them, then simply dropping his arm on top, effectively trapping the twins beneath it. There was more laughter, closer to breathless huffs by now, as Vergil latched onto his father’s arm to keep it where it was, Dante chortling happily while he more distracted his brother than really helped by latching onto Vergil like a teddy bear.

“Enough, now” there was no real sternness in Sparda’s voice, only a fond smiling tinging the words. He indulged the two once more by pulling back just so, nearly lifting both straight of the mattress and into the air, only to let the arm drop again and holding them still where they squirmed, snorting. “You were supposed to be quiet when staying here.”

“Awwww. Okay.”

“Sorry, father.”

Eva watched the whole exchange with a heart ready to burst with affection, smiling widely. Once they had seemingly settled, she leaned over the two boys - Vergil with wide-eyes and a huge smile, Dante basically squirming in excitement - pressing a gentle kiss to each their foreheads.

Low words to rest and sleep well were whispered as they all lay back down and peace set in once again.

 Eva waited, half-drifting off, half-pondering, lulled by the sound of the twins slowly dropping off again, quiet giggles and whispers quieting down to soft breaths.

Finally, she couldn’t hold back anymore, whispering the question still on her mind in the space between them.

“Why that rule?”

It was difficult to whisper low enough to get past the sharp little ears between them, yet she was saved by the fact that the twins had apparently dozed off already, content and in deep slumber in the safe cradle their parents provided.

 A low hum, sounding thoughtful. Then one bright blue eye cracked open, meeting her curious gaze. “We already confirmed that they require less sleep than you do.”

Eva was already about to ask again for the deeper meaning of that ominous answer before it hit her – recalling how tired and dead on her feet when the twins had been little and astounding energy reservoirs, far beyond a human’s already, had kept them going when their mother was already exhausted. Remembering Sparda’s alarm when he had noticed, despite her tries to reassure him, just how close to falling over she had really been.

He hadn’t forgotten a single bit of that.

 Her heart fairly melted and the smile spreading across her face very nearly hurt. Once again, she was utterly enamoured with how thoughtful and kind her partner could be, despite all his struggles to understand human wants and needs.

Reaching under the pillows, she searched for the hand he had slipped under there, interweaving their fingers and squeezing. Even in the dim light, she could see his eyes soften and his lips curl up, thumb rubbing slow circles over the back of her hand.

 “I love you.”

Often said words, yet she meant them every time anew. Perhaps even more so each time she said it.

“And I, you.”

Answering with the same ease as breathing, a fact, cemented by the look of tenderness and wonder in his eyes.

 The arm which had rested protectively over the sleeping twins rose, a gentle hand tucking the blanket further around her as well before Sparda murmured lowly, “Now, try to get some more sleep. These two will wake soon enough and demand attention again.”

Eva laughed soundlessly, snuggling closer to her family and settling back in. “Yes, yes, try pretending you don’t absolutely love it when they want your attention.”

“Why, Eva, I never said anything about not liking it.”

 It was very hard to lie there and not kiss him then, with his grin wide and mischievous and making his face look so much softer and younger, but she managed, barely, aware that she would jostle the boys and wake them up if she tried. So she kept still, squeezing the fingers linked with hers, and returned each caress over the back of her hand with one of her own in an attempt to communicate what she felt.

If the look she received for it was anything to go by, she was understood perfectly well.

 Eva fell asleep again soon after, cradling and being cradled by the ones she loved most, a quiet purr and twin-sounds of easy breathing a lullaby only for her ears, a soft smile on her face.

Her dreams were full of warmth and light, just like her heart right then.

[thirdstrikes]

Season 7 Review: Voltron thoughts from someone who finally got sleep.

So thoughts on the season: holy shit.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to expect this season, especially considering how wonderful Season 6 was. At first glance, it seems like this season might be one of those “either you like/or you don’t” seasons, such as Season 4, and I think it’s because it’s a lot different than we’re used to. But here’s some thoughts on what I liked, what I didn’t, and why the show is heading in the right direction.

We’ve been following the series so far through the eyes of the Paladins and exploring new things and a vast universe. But suddenly, we’re thrust back to Earth that is irrevocably changed in the most fundamental ways, and I think that, more than anything, really cements the fact that this show is winding down.

That’s a point here. We are in the tail end of the series. There’s no more character arcs to begin, only to tie up. The development has happened, and now we get to see it in action. For example, Hunk’s arc of how being a coward shaped him and having courage in the face of fear, and how he chooses to act on it. It was brilliant. We got to see Lance, who’s always self-doubted or complained, and how he was such a team player this season and had a bunch of opportunities to shine. It was amazing, especially for these two characters. We get to see them fully-fleshed out and real. And let’s be honest, I lived for their badass moments this season. 

The season really had two arcs: the Road Trip Arc and the Earth Arc. 

The Road Trip was full of filler episodes and some light-hearted antics, which were definitely needed considering the back half of the season, but it wasn’t pointless. It was all about building bonds between this group of Paladins and resolving issues such as “Keith ran away” and “Lotor” by bringing them to light and allowing them to be discussed. Granted, Voltron sucks at emotional scenes in some aspects and their fall-outs, so I’m going to take it with a grain of salt that these were addressed behind the scenes as well. That is one thing I wish we had seen more of was the issues addressed and fully resolved in front of us.

But a lot of it was building up the dynamics and relationships for the back half of the season. This is the first time we really get to see Keith as the leader and the rest of the team’s dynamics together, except for Season 3 when they were forced together and learning to work with one another. But back then, it was Keith trying to lead in Shiro’s shadow and the rest of the team fumbling with their new lion assignments. But at the end of this Road Trip Arc, we get to see how they work together and that they’ve bonded and might truly be a Team™ that can succeed.

The Earth Arc was the culmination of all of that as we got to see the Paladins work as a Team. It wasn’t about personal character arcs more so as the relationships between them and as a team in general. Sure, we got to see Lance and Hunk shine in their respective places, but it was about how far the team has come. The new powers of Voltron unlocked the closer they get--like that’s fucking amazing. At the end of this season, I can definitely say that it’s the first time this set of Paladins has come together as a team. And if you guys can’t see that, then you’ve forgotten the fundamental themes of Voltron.

In terms of character this season, I loved a lot. 

Absolutely loved seeing Hunk take action and act on his courage. We’ve gotten glimpses of it through the seasons, but this was the one where we really concentrated on it. Him sacrificing himself in The Journey Within to get his team safety, trying to launch a rescue op for his family against everyone’s best interests. These are not things we would have seen with Hunk before, and I think it’s because it got personal for him. 

A lot of people seem to gloss over the weight that Earth carries for Hunk, who’s always dreamed about coming home to his family safe and the world at peace, and he didn’t have to fight anymore. He even mentions in his daydream that he’d find a hot shot pilot to take his place with the Yellow Lion. But now they're home and Earth is invaded by Galra, and Hunk really steps up as a Paladin, which has arguably been his arc all along. He comes into his own. Not just a mechanic, not just a pilot, but as a Defender of the Universe. 

Keith this season really shined as a leader of Voltron. Look, I knew he wasn’t going to be the supportive and plucky leader like Shiro, but that’s something we all knew. He’s Keith and leads in his own way, and I really enjoyed it cause we got to see his own development, especially over last season, and how it came into play here. Yes, he was snippy but that’s just Keith; he still did wonderful, and I loved seeing how Lance acted as his right-hand this season.

 During The Fued, when they were picking who would survive, and Lance picks Keith because he respects his qualities as the leader, that was amazing, especially in terms of their relationship. It’s always going to be antagonistic, that’s just how they’ve always been, so the jests and insults are part of it all. You find similiar relationships through many shows and movies and books, but what Keith and Lance do have is a mutual respect for each other. Lance respects Keith and thinks he’s a good leader, and Keith knows Lance’s capabilities and trusts him to lead and use them in times of need. It’s very telling and very wonderful to see when you look back at Season 1. 

Anyway, Keith just did a good job and I can’t say much more than that. I loved him.

Pidge, while there wasn’t a lot of shine team, really completed her character arc this season. She got her family back together, and everyone is alive and happy. And isn’t that what we’ve always wanted all along for her? I know that’s what she wanted, so I can sit happy. Her story is done.

Lance was brilliant this season. Yes, he did get called “dumb” many times, but that’s just something people have to come to terms with in cartoons in especially. Each character has a default trope that they fall back on, especially in times of humor: for Pidge, it’s tech; for Hunk, it’s food; for Keith, it’s emo/lone wolf; for Lance, it’s an idiot. That’s just how it works, but it’s the moments he shines outside of it all that really got to me.

We got to see him as a fully-fledged sniper and fucking bad-ass at it. We got ot see his dynamics with Veronica, and how he took charge. We got to see him lead the team when Keith ran off, entrusting them to Lance’s care. We got to see his battle instincts at play, we got to see him take the initiative and have a had in arguably the biggest battle the Paladins have faced, we got to see him really come into his own. 

Lance’s arc has never been about him being the leader or being some smooth ass motherfucker. It’s been about owning who he is and becoming a team player, and how support is sometimes more important that the allure of leadership. We got to see all of these throughout the season - him playing support, him backing up the team, him protecting people, him leading. Like this the culmination of everything he’s worked for, and Voltron showcased it brilliantly.

Allura, I feel, will have a bigger arc next season. We’ve seen some of the final seeds being planted right now and stuff, especially with her and the Altean colony, but what this season really concentrated on was her becoming a Paladin. She’s always been a Princess, an alchemist, and this season it’s her being a Paladin. And she stepped into the role perfectly. I was so proud of her. 

In terms of her and Lance’s relationship, I do wish we had seen some more development before we started seeing her reciprocation. However, the development for this relationship has been in the works since Season 1, and if you step back and look at it, you can see what a beautiful thing it is indeed. Despite what felt like a rushed culmination for Allura/Lance this season, I loved their moments. They were very soft and beautiful, and Veronica teasing Lance about it was amazing. The fact that Lance didn’t believe her speaks volumes about how he’s changed. If Veronica had told Season 1 Lance that Allura liked him, you can bet your ass he’d be sidling up to her and trying to get her out on a date. But he didn’t. He didn’t pursue at all. And that’s just gonna make the resolution so much more beautiful to watch.

Shiro was fucking amazing. I loved watching him step out as being a Paladin and come to grips with what happened to him. Becoming a Captain of the Atlas was epic as hell, and really highlighted what I loved about his character. He was just exceptional and his scenes were so interesting this season.

The Adam thing was a harsh truth to come to terms with. Inevitably, like we all thought, he died, but I do thing this does work in terms of the narrative. Adam, while he was in a relationship with Shiro, was a good centerpiece for understanding Shiro’s backstory and character more, and the fact that he died makes this much more real in a painful, raw way. This, more than anything, really cemented the fact that this show is about a universal war and people die, especially when they brought the fight to Earth, which makes it just as personal for the audience. 

Killing Adam off definitely toed the line of the “bury your gays” trope that seems to haunt media like a ghost. I do think that it followed the “anyone can die” trope more so, considering what was happening, which was to highlight the fact that no one is safe in this war, especially with the Galra basically invading Earth. You saw that wall of names--it was a massacre. Adam was the one person from the Garrison that we knew by name that didn’t have a more prominent role, such as a a pilot of the MME’s or piloting the Atlas or being a Paladin, so he was the eyepiece into the idea that people died here. 

“The Last Stand” is a two-parter that shook me to the core. Earth has been overtaken, people are in work camps, in resistance factions, at secure bases, or fucking dead. Adam was someone we recognized that we unfortunately had to realize this concept with. 

Adam’s story is truly tragic, and I wish they’d spent more time with it. But like I said, this is war. And being LGBT+ does not mean you get a “get out of death” card. LGBT+ does not entail immortality, and LGBT+ people die in wars. It happens. But it sucks it happened here, especially because Adam was a stepping stone to Shiro being LGBT+ rep for us. But Adam got barely over a minute of screen time, and his role was to tell Shiro’s story. He was not a side character like Sam Holt or Admiral Sanda, but rather a tool in telling us what we needed to know.

I do wish we had more of him. I wish we saw more of him and Shiro. But then again, being LGBT+ is not the most important trait for either of them. Instead, let’s concentrate on the fact that Shiro arguably lost one of his closest friends, considering they’d been flight partners and friends before they entered a relationship. This whole thing is a bit of a gray area that I think... really couldn’t be avoided. People died, and just like other allies before him, Adam was unfortunately one of them. 

CAN WE TALK ABOUT EZOR AND ZETHRID BEING A CANON COUPLE BECAUSE IM CRYING. IT WAS BEAUTIFUL.

Overall, this season was definitely different than what we’re used to. Definitely more plot-driven and focused on the narrative than the characters, but we’re winding up and arcs are coming to a close. There’s not much else to do other than focus on how these characters interact with each other and show how far they’ve come. Plus the Earth Arc was arguably the biggest thing we’ve seen so far, so I’m happy we got the time focused on it to tell their story.

But watching them work as a Team and unlock secrets and discover new powers - it was so worth it.  But what made this season so cool was that this wasn’t the Paladin’s story so much as Earth’s. And that’s something that’s been teased and wondered about for 6 seasons so far, and seeing it come into fruition was amazing.   

People talk about how they’re leaving the fandom now because of much it deviated from the story we’re used to. And most of these are toting the terms “queerbaiting” and “promises” like we’re owed something from these people. Ships are not the focus of this show, and they never have been. This season shows this in prime form. 

Voltron is about defending the universe - and that’s what they did this season.

I think, in terms of understanding the story and the characters, maybe people need to go back to the roots and explore what Voltron is all about in the first place. You can complain and leave the show if you wish because your ships didn’t get airtime and you didn’t like how they were treated, and you’re entitled to that. But just remember that this show is ending and these are the culmination of story arcs. They aren’t building, they’re tying up loose ends.

Overall, this season was good, and I loved it. One of my favorites because I get to see how far the characters have come and the animation was stellar so. 

(Plus the Atlas scene remains one of the best of the entire show so kudos to the people of Voltron.)

(Best line of the show: “Well, I’m sorry, but I guess having my consciousness transplanted from the infinity of Voltron’s inter-quintessence into the dead body of an evil clone of myself has left me a little out of sorts for the past few weeks.”)

So definitely an 8/10. 

[fardell24b]

Quinn’s Code 14 Wedding Trouble - Part 2

Quinn’s Code 14 Wedding Trouble – Part 2

It was uncomfortable. Daria figited. It was just as she had feared. The dress was ill fitted and to make it more infuriating, the seemstress was continually pricking her with a pin. She silently steamed. 'She is incompetent!' she thought. Not for the first time.

 “Nature didn't see fit to give you much in the way of hips, did she, dearie?”

 “That shouldn't be a problem!” Daria said, with a merely annoyed tone.

 “Turn around please.”

 “Oh, Scarlet, You grow lovlier by the day,” Jane said in a southern accent while batting her eyebrows.

 Daria sighed. “I'll kill you.”

 Jane merely smiled.

   Suddenly a voice that Daria had least expected to hear squeaked out her name. “Daria?”

 “Brittany?”

 Brittany Taylor, one of the cheerleaders at Lawndale High, had entered the bridal shop.

 “What are you doing here?” both asked at the same time.

 “Isn't it obvious?” An Arab shiek's in town to buy a few more wives,” Jane joked.

 “They're putting on a bridal expo in the gym. We're modelling,” Brittany explained.

 “A Bridal Expo, that's a good message to be sending to high school students...” Daria snarked. 'Why is Ms. Li doing that?' she pondered.

 “I wonder what sort of extracurricular activities would lead to a wedding...” Jane said.

 'I'm sure our Principal may have taken the idea into account,' Daria thought. She was sure that Jane was onto something.

 “What about you? Are you in a play or something?” Brittany asked.

 “No,” Daria said. She had had enough.

 Brittany then went off...

 The 'seemstress' pricked Daria with a pin again, harder this time. “Ouch.”

 “Hold still. I'm having a hard time with your body as it is.”

 'That's it,' Daria thought.

 “You shouldn't have said that!” Jane said to the 'seemstress'.

 “I'm just underdeveloped!” Daria said with an edge to her voice.

 “I'm doing my best, dearie!”

 “Could you start again?” Daria asked, trying to calm down.

 “That would be a good idea,” Jane suggested.

 “I won't!”

 “I'm not paying for it,” Daria added, with a calmer tone.

 “Fine!” the 'seemstress' said.

  Finally, Daria was ready. The seemstress had improved upon her second try, but still had made disparaging remarks about Daria's figure. 'I am going to blog about this!' she thought. She was sure that Jane and Jennifer hadn't discovered all of her blogs.

 Saturday, March 25, 2006

After a long drive, the Morgendorffers arrived at the Windsor Hills Resort for Erin's Wedding. “This is an expensive vehicle. Be careful with it,” Jake told the valet.

 “Yeah, right,” the valet said, just before driving off with Jake's Lexus.

 “Helen!” Rita Barksdale called.

 “Rita!” Helen called as she hugged her sister.

 “How are you, Jake?” Rita asked.

 “Well, I'm not that...”

 “Oh, the girls look lovely,” Rita interuppted. She indicated a man next to her. “Everyone, this is Paul, my beau.”

 “Hello,” Paul said,

“Paul Meyerson?” Jake asked.

 “Jake?” Paul asked. He quickly realised where he knew Jake from. “Jake and I were in boy scouts together. You bring your clubs?”

 Jake grumbled.

 “Dad, what was that you said about knowing how to pick 'em?” Daria asked. 'I guess, he's willing to see the best in Paul.'

 “Oh, Daria...”

  A sports car then arrived.

 “Who's that?” Daria wondered.

 “Aunt Amy?” Quinn asked.

 Amy Barksdale got out of the car. “I don't mind a few dents, but change the radio station and a your're a dead man,” she said with heavy sarcasm.

 “Amy, how delightful. I thought you weren't coming,” Rita said.

 “I wasn't, but I thought if you two could put aside years of bitterness and resentment, then so can I... for a day,” Amy answered.

 “Oh, Amy, why do you say such ridiculous things?” Helen asked.

 “Out loud?” Amy asked rhetorically as she passed between her sisters. “So, Jake. You're still with Helen, huh? Shows remarkable fortitude.” She turned to Paul. “And Roger. How's the skydiving going?”

 “Amy, Roger passed away. This is Paul,” Helen pointed out.

 Amy quickly recovered from her faux pas. “Oh, sorry. Paul, how do you do?”

 “Who's Roger?” Paul asked.

 “A female bovine failed to sufficiently break his fall,” Daria answered. She wondered how Paul would react to that.

 “Ick!” Paul responded.

 “He was one of the lucky ones,” Quinn said meaningfully.

 “Girls!” Helen admonished.

 “Hey, what's the point of a senseless tragedy if you can't find a little humour in it? I like the way both of you think, particularly you, Quinn.”

 Daria grumbled.

 “Now, Amy. I don't know where we're going to seat you...” Rita began as she lead her younger sister into the building.

 “I need a drink,” Helen said.

 Jake laughed.

 “Why are you laughing?” Helen asked.

 Jake stopped laughing as he followed his wife inside.

 “You know, Quinn, Aunt Amy's really weird,” Daria said, trying to stirr Quinn up.

 Quinn didn't take the bait. “Yes, she is,” she said. 'My kind of weird,' she added to herself. It was going to be great, catching up with her aunt.

  As the wedding party prepared for the actual ceremony, it was threatening rain. “Oh, it can't rain on Brain and Erin's wedding. It just can't,” one of the bridesmaids said.

 “That would be so awful. I couldn't stand it,” another said.

 “On the contrary. Rain is an ancient symbol of fertility. Every couple should be so lucky,” a teenage groomsman said in a monotone.

 “Oh, don't you see? A little rain won't spoil the happiest day of Brian and Erin's life,” a third bridesmaid said.

 Daria and Quinn approached them. “A little heavenly, isn't it Daria?” Quinn asked. 'I know she'd think the opposite...'

 “You must be Erin's cousin,” the third bridesmaid said.

 “We both are,” Daria said.

 “I shall introduce you to your escorts,” the bridesmaid said. She lead them to a handsome young man. “Daria, Quinn, this is Garrett. Garrett will be with Quinn.

 “Of course,” Daria said. She walked off with the bridesmaid.

 “Quinn, you're just about the loveliest thing I ever saw,” Garrett said. “I kinda imagined the hair would be longer though,” he added.

 “You like it?” Quinn asked as she did a pirouette. “It's been like this for a year or so,” she added.

 “Yes,” Garrett answered.

 “That's cool. Say, you like games?”

 “Daria, this is your escort,, Lurhman,” the bridesmaid said, indicating the monotone teen from earlier. She then left.

 “Of course,” Daria said.

 “How do you do, Da-rye-a?”

 “It's Daria, actually.”

 “Sorry.”

 “So, Luhrman. Is that your first name or your last name?”

 “Does it matter?”

 “Not really,” Daria said.

   Lawndale

The Bridal Expo at Lawndale High was in full swing. Charles Ruttheimer III was announcing. “Here's lovely Brittany in a sleeky and latiny number from Lanurb that says that this may be my wedding day, but dammit, I want to dance!”

 Her boyfriend, Kevin Thompson, was in the stands. But he was sleeping. His friend Michael 'Mack' Mckenzie shook him to wake him up. “Wake up! It's Brittany!”

 “What? Huh?” Kevin said. He accidently spilled soda on his pants. He stood up. “Oh man!”

 “I think you're blowing our cover,” Mack said.

 “I don't think so!” Kevin objected.

  Brittany saw Kevin in the stands. “Kevin, what are you doing here?”

 “Surprise, babe!”

 “Ooooh!” Brittany projected as she walked off the stage.

 “Now you have,” Mack said.

  On the other side of the hall, Jennifer and three of her other friends, Cindy Brolsma, Kristen Leung-Bell and Stacy Rowe, laughed.

   Leeville

The reception had started. Lurhman mumbled something. Daria couldn't make it out. “What did you say?”

“Just a little pointless chit chat. Forget it. Would you like another soda?”

 “No thanks,” Daria said.

 “Or shall we just split a bottle of drain cleaner?” Daria glared at him. “Please be assurred my remark was intended in jest, and not as an incitement to any type of self-destructive behaviour.”

 Daria was impressed. She thought that they could get along. “You're not from around here, are you?”

 “Not very far,” Lurhman answered, his voice unchanged.

  Quinn was in over her head. She had gained the minister's attention. She was sure that it wasn't the right kind of attention. “A wild, rolling, surging ocean of love, on which we, as mere individuals, have no control. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

 “A little,” Quinn said as she tried to put to words her objections. Daria came by.

 Hi, Quinn. Hi Father,” she said.

 “Actually, I'm a minister, not a priest,” the minister clarified.

 “The important thing is, you're the voice of morality in the community,” Daria said as she passed by to the bathrooms.

 “You know, my sister has a point!” Quinn said, backing off.

 “I don't get your meaning,” the minister said.

 “I think you do!” Quinn said, backing off again.

 “Wait!”

 “Gotta go!”

 “Wait!” he said, a little louder.

  Meanwhile, when she had done her business, Daria found Amy at the sinks. “I hate myself in a formal dress, and everyone else, too. You don't look too thrilled at things, either.”

 “Oh, no. I'm overjoyed to be at this big family event. Day to day life isn't humiliating enough,” Daria responded.

 “Let's see, you're in college now, or something,” Amy guessed.

 “Still high school, unfortunately,” Daria responded. 'She has been out of contact with Mom long enough to have lost contact,' she thought.

 “I have some vague memories of high school, but these days, you all carry weapons, right?”

“Well, not to formal occasions like this.”

 “That's where you kids make your mistake,” Amy thought for a moment. “I thought when turned thirty I would stop feeling out of place at these things.”

 “You feel out of place?” Daria asked in surprise.

 “You didn't notice that my sisters are busy competing with each other that I don't even register on their radar?”

 “Sounds like Quinn and I,” Daria mused. “But I figured that you were above all that.” She paused. “I mean, you're kind of...” She trailed off, not wanting to use the word she was thinking of out loud to an adult.

 Amy knew what word she was going to say. “Cool?”

 “Um...”

 “I know, you can't say that to me. Law of the teenagers.”

 “Thank you for respecting it.”

 “When I was a kid, with Helen and Rita going at it all the time, all they left to me was to supply the color commentary. Then one day, I found myself all grown up, with my own point of view, and feeling no particular obligation to listen to anyone else's BS ever.

 “So it actually turned out really well,” Darai commented.

 “Unless I have to see my sisters at a wedding, yeah. Sarcasm. It's a wonderful way to deal.” Amy paused and put on her glasses. “But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

 Daria smirked.

   Lawndale

Mack and his girlfriend Jodie Landon met, Cindy Brolsma, Kristen Leung-Bell and Jennifer Burns. “You're sick of this expo too, huh?” he asked the three friends.

 “Yes,” Cindy answered.

 “I don't know why Ms. Li organised it,” Kristen said, with annoyance. She shook her head. 'She's out of control.'

 “You want to complain to her?” Jodie asked.

 “Yes,” Kristen answered.

 “I think so too,” Jodie said.

 “Let's do it,” Jennifer contributed.

“Sure,” Jodie said. “She should be in her office.”

  Soon, they found the Principal in her office.

  “Why are you here?” she asked as she looked up from the paperwork on the desk.

 “Asking why you organised the bridal expo,” Kristen said.

 “That is really none of your business,” the Principal protested.

 “You said the same thing about Amazon Models,” Jodie pointed out.

 The Principal was flustered. “Yes. And someone cracked my email and Paypal in order to get that Mercenary to visit!”

 “It wasn't anyone here,” Jennifer pointed out.

 “That is obvious,” the principal said. “I have my suspicions, but there is no proof. As far as the current Bridal expo is concerned. It's none of your business.” She paused for effect. “As far as that cracker is concerned, he or she will not hear about this. And if they do, they won't find out the reason. But I will know that unauthorised activities were carried out.”

 “Ms. Li. I have no idea what you're talking about,” Jodie said.

 “I know you don't, Ms. Landon,” the Principal said before Jodie could say anything more.

 'I do know, but I'm not saying anything,' Cindy thought. Quinn had told her her suspicions.

 “But the question is still valid,” Jodie pressed.

 “I am not answering. Good day!” the principal said.

 The group exited the office.

 “That didn't work,” Mack commented.

 “Obviously,” Kristen stated.

 Jodie turned to Jennifer. “Spill!” She said.

 “What do you mean?” Jennifer asked, with surprise.

 “You told Ms. Li that it wasn't anyone here. Therefore you do know who it was,” Jodie answered.

 “It's best that we talk elsewhere,” Cindy interjected.

 “Sure,” Jodie said.

  Leeville

“Oh, it was a lovely ceremony, wasn't it?” Rita asked.

 “It really was, Rita,” Jake answered.

 “I'm just so sorry Mom couldn't be here.”

 “Don't worry, she'll get to live it all vicariously when the bills arrive,” Helen commented. “Jake, how about getting me another glass of wine?”

 It was obvious she had had a few already. “Gee, honey, maybe you shouldn't...” he admonished.

Helen was having none of that. “Jake, I'd really like a glass of wine, now.”

 “Right!” Jake said as he left.

 “Helen, you're not bitter about this.”

 “Rita, please. Why why I be bitter?” she asked rhetorically. “You and Erin deserve the best. You always have.” She meant the last part to sting.

 “Oh, so I should be punished forever because I made a few bad decisions,” Rita retorted.

 Amy approached. “Hi. What are you two arguing about now?”

 “Arguing? We're not arguing,” Helen retorted.

 “Still mad because Dad gave Rita that MG and all you got was a Plymouth Valiant?” Amy asked.

 “My goodness, Amy, the things you remember,” Rita commented.

 “It was a Dodge Dart,” Helen added.

   Lawndale

Jodie, Mack, Kristen, Jennifer, Stacy and Cindy arrived at a pizza place frequented by Lawndale High students.

 “So, tell me about the cracking,” Jodie said to Cindy after they had ordered and sat down.

 “It's only Quinn's suspicion, it may be baseless,” Cindy said.

 “But you agree with her,” Jodie added.

 “I do,” Cindy said.

 “So, spill!” Jodie encouraged.

 “Quinn thinks that it's Andrea Hecuba,” Jennifer said.

 Jodie turned to Kristen. “And you agree?” she asked.

 “I agree,” Kristen said simply.

 “Why does Quinn think it's her?”

 “Strange vibes she has felt since joining the Programming Club and the fact that Daria used to subscribe to Conroy's magazine,” Cindy answered.

 “Let me get this straight, Quinn thinks that Daria asked Andrea to ensure that General Conroy would come into the school?” Jodie asked, picking up on the second part of Cindy's statement.

 “Yes,” Cindy answered.

 “Right,” Jodie said as she thought about it.

 “Clearly, cracking was involved. Ms. Li looked quite shocked when the General said that he had the email and Paypal receipt,” Mack pointed out.

 “I remember,” Jodie said. “But there's no reason to blame Andrea either. It could be all Daria, or another person entirely.”

 Jennifer remained silent. She didn't want to implicate Daria any more than she may have been already.

 “So, you want to keep an eye on both of them?” Mack asked.

 “Yes,” Jodie said.

 They then remained in silence until the pizzas arrived.

[megsironthrone]

Found in the Godswood

Requested by @remember-me-as-i-was:  Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Robb Stark one shot for me. I was thinking the reader can be from the real world having read the books(knows what happens) and ends up in westeros in front of the Godswood tree at Winterfell where Ned finds her.once there she reads a lot to learn abut westeros, helps with Sansa and Arya, and asks to learn to fight. Robb develops feelings for the reader. Thank you!

I do not own any of the Starks, Jon or Theon. They belong to George R.R.Martin.

Warnings: Angst and fluff, also a bit long

Pairings/Characters: Robb Stark x modern fem!reader, Ned Stark, Catelyn Stark, Sansa Stark, Arya Stark, Jon Snow and Theon Greyjoy

You shivered as the cold air hit your skin. “Sansa, go get your mother. Tell her to bring an extra set of furs,” a voice said, making you open your eyes. They went wide when you realized where you were. You started shaking, but this time it wasn’t from the cold. It was confusion and fear. “It’s alright. What is your name?” You told him quietly as you tried to curl up into a ball. It was disorienting to go to sleep in your bed and to wake up on the cold ground in a world you thought was fictional.

              From the release of the first book, you’d been entranced with the world of “A Song of Ice and Fire”.  The more you read, the more you enjoyed it, even with all the tears. You loved Westeros and grew to adore the characters. They were you friends and family. You had fallen in love with a world that didn’t exist. Or so you thought.

              “Y/N, it is alright. I will not hurt you.“ You recognized the man in front of you as Ned Stark. From what you read, you knew he was an honorable man. The sound of running footsteps made you shrink back again. "What is it, Ned?” Catelyn asked her husband, who simply gestured to where you were. Catelyn’s eyes widened as she took in your shivering form. It was no wonder you were cold. You were wearing a pair of thin pajama pants and a tank top.

              "She says her name is Y/N,“ you heard Ned whisper to his wife. Catelyn took a cautious step toward you. "Y/N?” You looked up at her. “I am Lady Stark. You needn’t be afraid. You are safe here.” It took Catelyn several minutes, but eventually, you let her wrap the furs around you and lead from the Godswood. They took you into the castle, got you warm and dressed in something besides your nightclothes. Then, you met their children, including the young man you would end up falling in love with. Robb.

*time skip*

              You’d been in Winterfell for a couple of months when you realized your feelings for the eldest Stark child. You spent the majority of your time in the massive library of Winterfell, learning as much as you could until you grew bored. Then, you moved on to lessons with Sansa and Arya. That was a little more exciting but, like Arya, you couldn’t quite grasp needlepoint. You grew bored of that too, so you decided to try to learn how to fight. That lead you down to the training yard where Robb, Jon and Theon were.

              "Y/N!“ Robb called when he saw you coming outside. You were dressed in trousers and a tunic that Ned and Catelyn had been kind enough to have made for you. You weren’t a fan of wearing dresses all the time. "Hey, Robb! Jon. Theon,” you greeted with a smile. “Finally grow bored?” Theon asked with a smirk. You nodded and turned your attention back to Robb. “Can I talk to you?” His brows furrowed but he nodded and lead you out of ear shot of Jon and Theon.

              "Could you teach me to fight?“ Robb’s face lit up with a smile. "Of course. I am flattered you asked. Shall we begin now?” You shook your head, nearly laughing at his excitement. “How about tomorrow? I told Arya I’d tell her a story after her lessons today.” Robb agreed before kissing the back of your hand and returning to the training yard with a skip in his step.

              Robb had been instantly taken with you when his parents brought you to Winterfell. Your curiosity, your sarcasm and wit and your beauty all captivated him. In fact, he hadn’t shut up about it since the first night you’d dined with them, much to Jon and Theon’s dismay. “And what, pray tell, was that?” Theon asked. Robb merely smirked and ignored the question. He wasn’t going to let Theon ruin his good mood.

              The next day, you met Robb outside and let him show you how to properly hold a sword. You tried to ignore the feeling in the pit of your stomach as his hands positioned yours. Tried to forget the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach as his hand then rested on your stomach to ensure your stance was right. You’d felt a pull toward Robb from the beginning and you’d tried to push it aside. You knew exactly what was going to happen to Robb, or what was supposed to happen to him. You didn’t want your heart to break when he chose Talisa. When he…died.

              Still, as he stood behind you, helping you with your technique, you knew fighting it was pointless. You turned your head to look at him and found his blue eyes already looking at you. They were full of passion that nearly scared you. After a minute, Robb cleared his throat and went back to teaching you. You felt yourself blushing as you tried to pay attention to the lesson.

              When you were finished for the morning, you turned back to Robb. “Guess I’m not a very good student, huh?” you asked with a chuckle. Robb’s laughter joined your own as he shook his head. “I think you are simply distracted. I know I am.” The laughter stopped as the two of you looked at one another intently. There it was again. The pull. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you admitted sheepishly as the two of you made your way back into the castle for breakfast.

              "You said you were distracted too. By what, Robb?“ you asked him, taking the arm he offered. He stopped walking, making you face him. "Have you not guessed?” You cocked your head to the side in confusion. Robb gave a soft chuckle before reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You. You are my distraction, Y/N.” When you didn’t laugh at him or pull away, Robb cupped your cheek with his hand. You nuzzled into it with a contented sigh.

              "May I kiss you, Y/N?“ You wanted to jump for joy but, at the same time you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to claim him as yours, but you knew you couldn’t. You knew his fate. Still, why begrudge him, and yourself, this one moment of happiness? You ignored the little voice in the back of your head telling you that it wouldn’t end well. Instead, you nodded and felt his lips press against yours.

              You couldn’t stop the tears that started as you broke the kiss. "Y/N, my love? What is it?” You shook your head and pulled away from him. You ran into the castle and to your chambers, taking no notice of Robb calling your name as he chased you through the corridors. Why had you been so stupid? He wasn’t yours! You weren’t even supposed to be there.

              You tried to slam your door closed, but something stopped it. Robb’s foot. He came in and closed the door. “Ow. Y/N, please. What was all that about? You let me kiss you, then you cry and run away. Have you any idea what that can do to a man’s ego? Was the kiss that terrible?” One look at his face and you could see the jest there. You let out a little giggle making him smile. “There you are. Now, please love, tell me what’s wrong.”

              You shook your head. “I’m sorry. I can’t,” you whispered. You turned away from him. “Please just go, Robb.” Robb watched as your shoulders shook with sobs. “Y/N…I cannot leave you this way.” He placed a hand on your shoulder. “Look at me, please.” Reluctantly, you looked at him. “Darling, I won’t ask again. I won’t force you to tell me what has you so upset. Just tell me this. Do you love me?”

              You wanted to tell him you didn’t. To break his heard before he could break yours, but you couldn’t do. “Yes.” Robb smiled and wiped away your tears with his thumbs. “Then that is all that matters.” He kissed you again, making you forget everything, if only for a brief moment. In that moment, it didn’t matter that Robb shouldn’t be yours. It didn’t matter that he would break your heart when he married Talisa or that he was fated to die. The only thing that mattered in that moment, was that his lips were on yours and it felt right.

@brewsthespirit-blog @gameofwinters @littlemisscaptainfandom @etherealpotter @line-viper @silverwingedfox

[saeculumaeterna]

20. for angry sex

@angel-caked / @angel-caked-mantra

Really, Dagon knew something like this was inevitable. Their whole relationship was more about conflict than affection. Sure both could take a few jabs and jokes, but it was inevitable that things boiled over eventually. Perhaps this exact outcome was less likely but this course of action was never in doubt.

Rage was beneath the ageless. Ironically, he had no time for it. It was pointless to waste his anger on someone when anything they could do were things he could easily undo or counter. Conflict appealed to him less and less with how absurdly powerful he was. It didn't mean that people didn't try of course, but there as no real threat they could actually manifest let alone follow through on.

None of that had happened here. Instead, it was jealousy. It was well known that Angel had dug his claws deep into the godkiller and had little intention of sharing him anytime soon. On most occasions it was amusing and charming. On the few outside that, it was cumbersome and unpleasant.

Perhaps it was borne from some deep-seated fear that gripped Angel tightly and one that they hadn't set him free of yet. Perhaps it was simply how he liked to be in his relationships. Perhaps it was something else entirely. The catalyst could be discovered later.

But for now, Angel's borderline obsessive possession of him had finally strayed too far. It was chasing away customers and giving his bar a bad name. And while he did not need the money, he did like his reputation. People talked, and it traveled fast. Even though he rarely returned their open flirtations he was at least smart enough to not do it while he was in a relationship, let alone when his partner was there.

Angel did not draw such a clear distinction however, instead pouncing, sometimes literally, on those who dared to to even try and take what was his. And while it was still hot, it was again becoming a problem. After yet another scene had been caused, Dagon did something he never thought he'd do to Angel. He glared at him, the anger simmering behind his gaze.

So much for rage being beneath him.

A nudge in the other customer's minds had them quickly fleeing the bar, the door locking behind them. Angel, perhaps realizing what he had done or perhaps just not giving a shit, opened his mouth with some explanation or smartass comment at the ready.

Dagon did not give him that chance.

Instead he slammed Angel against the back wall of the bar counter, the impact being a far cry from the usual gentle care he showed in his touches. The force shook several bottles of high-end spirits off the display stands and sent them crashing down onto the floor. Shards of glass and splashes of drink hit their legs but neither paid it any mind.

"You," Dagon began, "will learn to control yourself." A fool's request, but one he would ensure came to fruition. Another effort at a retort was made and again it was silenced, lips crushing against the demon's own. A recently acquired collar was manifested around Angel's neck, a leash with it and wrapped securely around Dagon's wrist.

"You want to snarl at people like some animal?" Dagon spoke after pulling back, making sure Angel's eyes were on him all the while. "I'll treat you like a damn animal then."

That still present glare locked Angel into place, allowing Dagon to carelessly rip apart the spider's clothing. Scraps of it flew across the room, and the demon's body was laid bare once more for the ageless. It was always a ravishing sight, but there would be no appreciating it now.

"What are animals like you good for. The slaughter? The hunt? No. You are good for but one thing. To be bred." A sharp gasp was drawn from Angel's lips as he was suddenly penetrated, Dagon thrusting firmly inside him up to the hilt. Or rather, hilts. He'd not just forced his way into one spot, but added a second cock and plunged it inside the demon's ass. No prep was given, no consideration spared.

Claws hooked onto a broad body, fisting in his shirt and squeezing his shoulders. The arachnid was unprepared, but adjusted quickly. Claws unclenched to slide around the ageless's back, clutching at fabric and flesh none too gently either.

Dagon granted one small mercy, letting Angel adjust to the intrusions in him. When his legs hooked around Dagon's waist, he took that as his cue to breed away. The leash was yanked on, forcing Angel forward and causing him to flop his head down on Dagon's shoulders. Hot breath left him, quickly accompanied by loud moaning as Dagon began fucking him earnest.

The godkiller's own hands were also shifted into claws, firmly dug into Angel's hips and cutting into the flesh and fur there. Angel followed suit, ripping the simple shirt under his sharp touch and leaving long drag marks along the newly exposed skin beneath. It would seem that neither were getting out of this without a few new scars.

Angel leaned back against the back wall, a smirk on his lips and hunger in his eyes. He'd rolled with the punches here easily, and he was already formulating some payback.

His shirt didn't last long, but it was easily replaced. Shreds of it either hung off him or just collected in a pile beneath them. His tie wasn't so carelessly discarded however. Angel had worked to keep the collar of the shirt mostly intact, allowing him to use that tie as his own leash. Fair was fair right?

Well fairness wasn't the goal here. When Angel pulled on the tie, Dagon did move with it. Farther than Angel probably intended. Instead Dagon moved to the muscles above Angel's clavicle and sunk his teeth in there. It wasn't a neck bite, but it was one that was guaranteed to be remembered. Dagon had heated up his fangs for this, and they sank mercilessly into Angel's body. The demon cried out, but the godkiller did not stop. He pushed them in deep, the fire of them searing into the spider's body.

Angel was fast to protest, trying to use his super strength to push Dagon back. But the ageless held firm, and eventually withdrew his teeth voluntarily. The new wounds were smoking, and they wouldn't stay open forever, but they were quite the brand.

Angel looked at his marking with wide eyes, panting at the sudden pain and shock of it. He looked at Dagon, expecting an answer, only to be met with a stone face save for that glare. It made him livid, and he reacted. Yanking Dagon close once more, Angel returned to gesture in kind by sinking all of his razor sharp, dagger like teeth into Dagon's neck and pouring a generous amount of his venom in as well. He might not be able to burn his teeth in like the immortal had, but he'd be damned if he took that laying down.

The venom in truth did no harm to the ageless. Not because Angel's venom was harmless no, but because Dagon was immune to poisons and had been for some time. Instead it was more like a pleasant buzz in his veins. Perhaps it showed, because Angel wasn't done with him yet. Rather than remove his teeth as Dagon had, Angel dragged them off the other's neck. He left trails all along the way, which he looked at with no small measure of pride. The demon gave Dagon another grin, now full of bloodied teeth.

Honestly, it was quite arousing to him.

Their brief interlude now done, Dagon resumed pounding his lover against the wall with increasing force. Each impact shook the bar and sent more bottles and glasses now crashing to the floor. It felt like the whole building was shaking, and the wall was even starting to crack from it all. Dagon did not care, it could all be mended.

And Angel clearly did not care either, holding on tighter to Dagon and marking him further with his claws. They cut into the skin of his back, leaving little trails of blood to drip down that was ignored by the couple. The noise, the tremors, the blood, it all just fuelled the moment.

Angel had dropped any pretence of playing, loudly calling for Dagon to fuck him harder, faster, to fill him up and breed him like the 'animal' he was. Dagon indulged himself for a while longer, savouring this moment of walls breaking down and unabashed lust giving way.

Finally, Angel clenched his body tight and squeezed Dagon as hard as his super strength allowed. Dagon knew what was coming, and his had been coiling up for a while. He let it out, joining his lover in orgasmic bliss as he buried his seed deep inside Angel. Dagon snapped his hips forward a few times, pushing in extra shots as they came before finally coming to a rest.

There was a moment now to catch their breath and collect themselves, something Dagon found himself surprisingly needing to do. He didn't lose control like this often, it was really quite the rarity, but he still needed to steel himself again once more.

After a few moments had passed in indulging in the afterglow, Dagon leaned back enough to let some light in between them. He pointed to the newly carved imprint of Angel's sharp fangs on his neck. They looked like he had been bitten by a bear trap and somehow he suspected neither of them cared.

"What does this mean." The fog of lust cleared from Angel's eyes for a moment, the arachnid slowly blinking back into awareness.

"Mine." He growled out, a claw reaching up and stroking the new addition to his ageless.

Dagon nodded, now pointing to the still smoking set he had seared into Angel's body down to his bones. "What does this mean."

Angel grinned, maw full of teeth sharper than knives.

"Yours."

"Fuckin' right it does busta."

Angel smiled, leaning over and letting his head rest against Dagon's chest while he hid his laughter. "I really hate you." He shook his head, they both knew the words were a jest. Angel looked back up at Dagon's face, a lazy grin on his face.

"Also, animal? Really? An' you call me the freak." Dagon simply raised a brow.

"You are the freak. I'm just slightly less of one than you." Angel hid his face again, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

Yeah, maybe they wouldn't always be okay. Maybe they'd butt heads like this again. But they knew each other cared. They'd just have to keep remembering that.

"So..." Angel asked to break the silence, twirling the tie around his fingers. "Round two?"

Fortunately, they would get a lot of reminders.