#unless she draws it on her face every day in which case that would be hilarious to me

[the-guilty-writer]

Is This Home?

Request from anon: Can you do Derek ! Daughter reader (15) she’s still getting used to savannah being there with them, and maybe she gets upset that they don’t hang out as much because of her, and reader has a breakdown and leaves the house in the middle of the night and she gets lost and hides in an abandoned house until someone finds her (maybe a neighbor of Derek’s) and they call Derek to come get reader and she’s just like no I don’t wanna talk to him and he  sits down and is like listen I know you don’t like me being with someone since your mom and I understand that but you will always be my baby, and they go home that night and she sleeps in the middle of them

Derek Morgan x daughter!reader

Summary: Ever since Savannah moved in with you and your dad, you feel like you’ve been losing him. The night he forgets about your special father-daughter time you flee to a place that feels more homey than your actual home.

A/N: I changed it up the abandoned house part just a little bit because I thought this would make it more meaningful, but overall I tried to stick as close to the request as possible. I hope you like it!

CW: I had fun with swear words in this one (I swore a lot when I was 15. Tbh I still do.), reader's mother is dead, kinda angsty with a fluffy ending. Reader loves her Aunt Penny.

---

“Alright, (Y/N). You think you can hold down the fort tonight?” Your dad, Derek, asked playfulling, putting a hand on your shoulder before leaning over the couch to look at you.

You put down your phone and made a face. “It’s Sunday night,” you said.

“Yes,” he said, drawing out the Y sound like he always did when you said something obvious. “Which means that I trust you’ll be in bed by the time Savannah and I get home from our night out.”

“But-” you started, but it didn’t matter; your dad was already headed upstairs to get ready for his date. The only way he would hear you now was by yelling to remind him that you two ALWAYS did movie night on Sunday. Your mom had died when you were ten and since then your dad had made it a point to spend as much of his free time with you as possible. Unless he was away on a case, movie nights were never interrupted. For five years that was how it had been.

And then Savannah came along.

She wasn’t a bad person. She wasn’t mean. But she wasn’t your mom and sometimes it felt like she was taking your dad away from you. The first time it happened, her and Derek had just started dating. You were so happy that your dad was happy you failed to notice that the same day he took her to the park was the day he was supposed to take you to the firing range. The second time it happened you took the metro from school straight to Quantico to show him that you’d gotten straight A’s on your report card, only to find that he had left work on time for once to take Savannah to see a play (at least your Uncle Spencer was impressed and Aunt Penny took you to get ice cream on the drive home). The third time it happened was the day Savannah moved in with the two of you. The Saturday that was supposed to be spent practicing for your judo certification was instead spent lifting and moving boxes.

Since then it had all gone downhill so fast. Dinners that were usually spent on the couch with just you and your dad shooting the shit about sports turned into dinners at the table making small talk about what everyone’s day was like. The messages he sent to you every night when he was away on a case came to your phone half the time and Savannah’s the other half. Even restoring houses with your dad wasn’t the same anymore. You loved to sit around the table with him and pick out colors for the walls from the swatches he brought home, but of course he had to show the options to Savannah first. She always seemed to throw out the fun colors in favor of more “tasteful” ones before you could give your opinion.

And now your dad was ditching you on movie night to take her out to dinner.

If she was a serial killer you wouldn’t have minded- you were used to your dad having to miss movie night to catch criminals- but he was abandoning you for his girlfriend. His girlfriend. You would much rather have been ditched because Hannibal Lecter was on the loose running wild through some town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere than be left alone so your father could go out to dinner with some woman you hadn’t known for all that long. SSA Derek Morgan would have a good excuse for missing movie night then, but he wasn’t a Supervisory Special Agent right now- he was your dad… and he forgot about you.

You went up to your room, not bothering to turn off the TV which already showed which movie you had picked for that night. Sitting on your bed, you picked up the picture of your mom that sat on your nightstand. You weren’t sure if you were listening for an answer from her spirit, or if you were just lost in the moment of missing her, but it felt like you looked at her picture for hours.

There was a knock on your door. You put the picture of your mom down before calling, “Come in!”

Derek was dressed up a bit more than normal- he traded his typical leather jacket for a blazer and his jeans for casual slacks. “So?” He spun in a circle. “How do I look?”

“Like you asked Uncle Dave for fashion advice,” you told him- if there was one thing you were in the Morgan household, it was honest.

“Okay, ouch.” Your dad brought his hand to his chest. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” you said. “The slacks make you look old. Wear black jeans instead.”

Derek smiled. “Okay, well I’m gonna be late since I have to change again. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, dad. I-”

The door shut.

“Love you,” you whispered to yourself. You picked up the picture of your mom again, gazing into her fearless eyes. Oh, mom, you thought to yourself, or maybe you were praying to her. You really didn’t know which one. What am I going to do?

---

You rolled over and looked at the clock- unable to sleep. It was nearly midnight and you dad still wasn’t back yet. How long was dinner supposed to take? How had your dad forgotten about movie night? How had your dad forgotten to tell you he loved you? The questions spiraled in your head over and over again, anxiety building in your gut until you burst into tears.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t be in your room, or the house, or anywhere that made you think about how your dad had forgotten about you. You were still in your clothes from the day, having been too upset to change into pajamas. Silently crying you ran down the stairs and out of the house- needing to get as far away from it as possible.

The logical part of your brain knew that this was the best possible way to get kidnapped- a young girl running down the street alone in the dark was the start to just about every horror movie ever. But the logical part of your brain wasn’t working. All you knew was that you had to run.

You were lost in your thoughts and high from the adrenaline that you lost track of where your legs had taken you. Your vision adjusted to the dark and you looked around. You were somewhere you had been before, but you weren’t sure exactly where. If it was light outside you might be able to pinpoint a landmark or a trail and find your way back, but the night was dense. All there was to do was walk.

Your head was starting to ache from crying and your legs were beginning to feel weary. The taste of copper filled your mouth from running in the coolness of the night. You needed a place to stay but you didn’t want to go home. In the distance you spotted street lights- they were dim but it was better than nothing. Maybe from there you could find a metro stop to take you closer to your Aunt Penny’s- surely she would let you stay with her for the night.

The closer you got to the lights the more you recognized your surroundings. The neighborhood was older, but still in a safe location. The houses were charming on the outside, with wrap-around porches and large grassy yards. You knew the place because Derek had bought a house here years ago, when it was just the two of you. It had always been part of his dream to restore a house like it so he insisted that he would wait for the perfect time to start the project.

Of course there was no such thing as perfect timing. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t touched the house in years. Most of his other restorations were bought and sold within months, but this one just sat. The only evidence that he owned the place at all was that he mowed the lawn every two weeks.

You walked up to the front door and pulled a bobby pin from your pocket, picking the old lock with ease and making your way inside. The house was bare of any furniture or decorations. Paint was flaking off the walls and old plastic covered the hardwood floors. You walked around the house, imagining what it would be like to see the place restored in all its glory- with new crown molding and fresh hardware on the doors. You imagined it with a fresh coat of paint and pictures on the walls.

But at the moment it looked abandoned, withered, and unloved- just like how you felt.

---

It was 1 AM when Derek got a call from an unknown number. The first time he let it go to voicemail, but when the same number called him two more times he had to pick it up. At first he thought it was a prank call- some kid trying to mess with him that one of his houses had been broken into by his own daughter- but when he got home and saw that you weren’t in your room he knew it was true.

He was sure that he broke every speed limit getting to the house, but he didn’t care. What was so wrong that you felt like you had to run away? What had happened and how had he not seen it?

Derek pulled into the driveway and jumped out of the car, Savannah right behind him. His neighbor was standing in the driveway holding a flashlight, waiting for him to arrive.

“Thanks for calling,” Derek greeted the woman- she was a nice older lady. “I’m sorry if she bothered you.”

“Oh it’s fine,” the lady said. “I’ve raised three teenagers myself. I know how they are. She says she doesn’t want to talk to you, but deep down she really does.”

Derek sighed. “I appreciate that. If there’s anything I can do to return the favor, please let me know.” The lady smiled and gave him a pat on the shoulder before walking away.

Derek sighed heavily and turned to Savannah. “I’ll be back.”

Savannah rubbed his shoulder supportively. “You’re a great father, Derek.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze before letting go and making his way into the house.

It didn’t take him long to find you. You were curled up in a corner, legs pulled up to your chest with your face buried into your knees. You didn’t even look up when you heard his footsteps. He came closer, kneeling next to you so he was on your level, and reached out to touch your hair. At the contact, you quickly leaned away.

“(Y/N),” he said, his voice full of concern. “Please talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Your words were sad with a slight venom behind them. “Just go away.”

Your dad sighed and sat down on the floor in front of you. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Suddenly, all the emotions from earlier came flooding back. You couldn’t help it- sobs racked your body as you pulled your limbs tighter towards your body. You kept your head down and your eyes shut tight, not wanting to even get a glimpse of your dad.

“You forgot movie night-” you managed to choke out between sobs. “You have Savannah now. You already forgot about mom and now you’re forgetting about me too.”

Derek felt his heart crack. He really had forgotten movie night- the one constant promise that your mom would always be a part of him and you. He took a deep breath and pulled you into a hug.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” he whispered. He felt his eyes begin to water. “I did forget about movie night.” He pulled back to look at your face. You had grown up so much so fast. JJ was always telling him that if he looked away for too long he would miss it entirely and he almost had. “But that doesn’t mean I forgot about your mom and it sure doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten about you. I know it’s hard to see me with someone who isn’t your mom- I get that- but Savannah isn’t replacing her. I will always love your mother and you will always be my baby girl. No matter what.”

The mention of the nickname he only ever used for you and your Aunt Penny brought the tiniest smile to your face. Derek pulled you into another hug.

“Can we go home now?” you asked quietly.

“Of course.” He kissed your forehead and pulled you to your feet, holding your hand as you walked out to the car. Savannah was standing there, a sympathetic look on her face. Your dad helped you into the back seat first before helping her into the front. You were so tired from the emotions and adrenaline that you fell asleep before the car even pulled out of the driveway.

---

Derek gently took your seatbelt off and pulled you out of the car in an effort not to wake you up. He was thankful that Savannah was there to lock the vehicle after him and open the front door so he could carry you up the stairs and towards your bedroom. If working out was good for nothing else but still being able to carry his baby girl at 15 years old, it was worth it.

“Derek,” Savannah whispered from behind him before he opened up your bedroom door. He turned to look at her. “Let her sleep in our room tonight. She’s your baby, but she isn’t going to be for much longer.”

Derek smiled softly and walked to the main bedroom, laying you down in the middle of the mattress. He looked down at your face, sleep softening your features. Changing quickly into his pajamas, he snuggled next to you, pulling your body closer to his. Savannah laid down on your other side, a gentle smile on her face as she watched the two of you together.

For the first time since your mom died, Derek felt whole- like the wound to his heart had healed over with a faint scar to remind him of what was, but allowing him to move forward.

“You know,” Derek said quietly. “I’ve let that house sit for a few years. It is kind of a dream project come true so I’ve been waiting for the right time to work on it.”

“Oh yeah?” Savannah whispered.

“Well it’s bigger than this place.” He ran a hand down your hair. “And there are more kids around (Y/N)’s age. The neighbors are nice and the school district is the same. It’s about 10 minutes closer to the hospital and Quantico.” Derek sighed. “I guess I was waiting for a time when the house could become a home.”

Savannah smiled sleepily. “You think you could make it a home?”

Derek’s smile grew. “I think we could make it a home. Together.” He still had his arms around you when he fell asleep that night and by the morning, Savannah’s arms would be around you too.

Soon there would be a restored house, with more dinners on the couch, nights you could spend with your friends when your dad and Savannah went out, a park nearby to walk in, and a large grassy yard to practice judo. But ultimately, it didn’t matter because the three of you would always see one another as home.

[vodika-vibes]

Omggg I was melting from flirtatious Seventeen, I love him being a shameless flirt 😫 Could you please do one where reader is very self conscious and just doesn’t see what 17 sees so she thinks he’s just messing with her when he says suggestive things? Maybe reader has an obvious crush on him so she assumes that because 17 knows he just flirts with her to embarrass her or try to get with her. Sorry if this is really long and specific😅, we all love everything you do btw! Thanks!

For Them

Summary: Alpha-17 has been driving you insane for ages now, and that mixed with the stress of your current responsibility is just too much.

Pairing: Alpha-17 x Reader

Word Count: 1358

Warnings: Kaminoans are assholes who experiment on babies

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So...I kind of went a little off the rails on this one. I had a plan, and then I started writing, and I got distracted by clone babies. Sorry.

Sometimes you hate the fact that you’re so easy to read. If you were just a little better at hiding your emotions, you wouldn’t be in this situation. Well, you hope you wouldn’t be in this situation.

After all, if your crush on Alpha wasn’t so obvious, he wouldn’t have any reason to tease you so much, right?

Because there’s absolutely no way that he means what he says when he flirts with you, or makes those suggestive comments to you.

Best case scenario he’s just trying to get into your bed for a bit of quick fun. Worst case scenario, he’s trying to humiliate you. And if you didn’t need this job so badly, you would have transferred out to somewhere else.

Tragically, this job is the best one for you at the moment, and you can’t just leave the cadets-

You purse your lips as you focus your attention back on your datapad and the information on the screen. You need to focus, you can’t afford to be distracted by Alpha right now. The Kaminoans decided to play with the genetic makeup of some of the tubies, and it’s a whole thing.

Three of them are albino, which comes with its own host of health issues that need to be mitigated. Two were born totally blind, and another three are going to be blind unless you figure out a way to keep their immune system from attacking their eyes (honestly cybernetics for all five of them will probably be the easiest option, after all no one’s figured out how to keep human’s immune systems from attacking their eyes), and one was born without the ability to use his legs.

Honestly, the urge to take all 9 of them and flee Kamino is getting stronger with every passing day, but as of right now, there’s no way for you to get them off Kamino without drawing the ire of several very dangerous men, Alpha at the top of the list.

You push your fingers through your hair as you scan the medical data coming from CT-238-765’s (his name is Grim and you’re pretty sure you love him) cradle and you scowl. He’s never going to be able to walk. Maybe with surgery-

“If you keep scrunching your face up like that, you’re going to get wrinkles,” A deep voice says from the door, and you yelp and your datapad tumbles out of your hands.

You whip around, your eyes wide, and then you press your hand over your heart, “Don’t do that!”

Alpha-17 grins at you, “Did I spook you, mesh’la?”

You scowl at him and duck down to scoop the tablet back into your hands, turning the screen away from the larger man so he can’t see just how bad these tubies are, “Did you need something?”

He drags his gaze down your body, and you fold the datapad over your chest as you fight the urge to shift uncomfortably. His grin broadens, “Yeah, I can think of a thing or two that only you can help me with.”

Your face burns, “There are babies in the room,” You hiss at him.

“They’re too young to understand what I’m saying, sweetheart,” Alpha replies as he enters the room properly, and peers into one of the cradles, “Honestly, I could probably bend you over in here and none of them would even know it.”

You sputter, “You…you don’t know-that’s totally inappropriate-”

He laughs, and moves to peer into Grim’s cradle, and you immediately move to put yourself between Alpha and the infant, without thinking about it. “You’re not allowed to handle him. Technically, you’re not allowed to handle any of the babies. Remember?”

Alpha rolls his eyes and lightly nudges you to the side, “The rule was only enforced when the Prime was alive, which he’s not.” You move to the side as he nudges you, curse you for being so weak in his presence.

“Only because everyone else is afraid of you,”

“You’re not.” He grins at you, “You want to fuck me.”

Your face burns, and you glare up at him, “There. Are. Children. Present.” You hiss at him.

“Yeah, yeah. So you’ve said.” He regards Grim silently for a moment, “Also, that wasn’t a denial, gorgeous. Why isn’t he moving his legs?”

“He’s fine. And I’m not going to sleep with you just so you win whatever twisted game you're playing with me,” You snap, though you keep your voice quiet, “And don’t touch-” You sigh when Alpha reaches into the cradle and pokes the infant’s foot, and he doesn’t react.

“The fact that you think I’m  playing a game with you is hurtful, gorgeous.” Alpha replies, a frown crossing his scarred face as he looks down at the infant, “He can’t feel his legs.”

“He’s fine.” You say, your voice pitching a little higher in sudden panic, “They’re all fine. You can’t tell the longnecks. You can’t. They’ll decommission them.”

“Wait, wait. Hold on,” Alpha looks at you, suddenly no longer interested in teasing you based on the look on his face, “What…there’s something wrong with all of these tubies?”

“Winter, Snow, and Cin-” You motion to the three at the end, “Are all albino. The five in the middle are either blind, or are going blind, and then Grim here-”

Alpha holds up his hand, “What happened?”

“The Kaminoans were playing with their genes.” You say bitterly, “And now these kids are the ones who will suffer for it.” You carefully remove the monitors from Grim’s legs, and attach them to a different baby's legs, altering the data just enough.

Alpha stops you, “How long has this been happening?”

You shrug, “You know that CF-99 exists,” You point out, “They’re not the most popular because they’re assholes, but-”

“We’re all genetically predisposed to be assholes,” Alpha says dryly. His gaze lingers on the babies for a moment, “So, what’s the plan?”

“What?”

“For the tubies.”

You stare at him, “Um…so for the five that are blind, or going blind, I’m planning on making arrangements for them to get cybernetic eyes. As for Grim…I’m working on it-”

Alpha hums thoughtfully, “I have a better idea.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. How do you feel about taking the Tubies and leaving?”

You sputter, “I can’t raise 9 babies on my own without a job-”

“You won’t be raising them alone,” Alpha replies with a roll of his eyes, “I’ll be going with you.”

“...what.”

He looms over you, and you’re very glad that you’ve never been intimidated by Alpha, for all that he flusters you to high heaven. “You think I’m playing with you. That I don’t mean every word that I say to you. Maybe you have cause for that, I’m not going to judge. But I do mean every word, and if I have to run away with you and these kids to make you believe me, then so be it.”

“But…what about your other brothers?”

“They’ll be just fine without me.”

“But-”

“Yes or no, cyar’ika?” Alpha interrupts, “Do you want to ensure that these kids, kids that you named, have a proper life? Or do you want to run the risk of your manipulations getting exposed? And that’s not me threatening you. That’s me pointing out that you’re not going to be able to hide your lies forever.”

Your hands shake, “Of course I want them to grow up happy and healthy, but this is…”

Alpha stares at you and you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, thinking hard.

“Okay. Okay, but we have to be quick about it. If we get caught-”

“Don’t worry, cyar’ika. I can make sure that we don’t get caught.” He ducks down and brushes his lips against your temple, “Just be ready. We’re leaving tonight.”

And then Alpha is gone, leaving you alone with the 9 babies that you’re about to risk everything for. You sigh and turn to Grim, who looks up at you through big brown eyes, “You’re lucky I love you, kiddo.”

He flashes a toothless grin and grabs your finger, and you melt a little bit. You suppose it’s worth it.

[daisychainsandbowties]

what about: sneaking out

let's pretend this isn't from december and also that it didn't get stupidly long and turn into a whole au

//

The crane shifts uneasily as Ava hooks her hands in between its struts, her boots making slippery sounds on the metal that must travel some distance through the night.

Pausing for a moment with one arm hooked around the crane, Ava peers down into the canyons that crack every aspect of the land, but nothing moves. She can hear soft croaking from where the tundra frogs are sleeping up against the warehouse walls, their lumpy bodies no more than suggestions in the dirt.

Ava used to draw pictures of them when she was a kid, with the crayons that the old grocer used to bring with him when he dropped off big sacks of rice and cans of baked beans that Ava and Chanel would spend all day ferrying into the storerooms.

Both of them with their hair buzzed short and Ava hiding her favourite flavours of beans where Grim – who had saved them both and yet somehow managed to overcook the beans every time - wouldn’t find them. So they could have snacks when Chanel managed to pirate a movie off a passing satellite. She’d fixed a projector so that they could put it up onto their bedroom wall, both of them listening to the dialogue and the music and the shouting and the explosions through Chanel’s interface.

Ava wore her headphones, which she’d covered in stickers torn out of magazines, and her pyjamas that glowed in the dark. She’d draw frogs while glancing occasionally up at their improvised screen, her spoon stuck up in the can of beans balanced by her knee. Chanel would sometimes manage to steal sugar cubes from the kitchen so they could add it to the over-salted beans.

Some of those drawings are still pasted to the walls around their bunk – little frogs in messy red and yellow and green and purple streaks. Ava used her pink crayon only sparingly, to give them eyes.

But the tundra frogs are dangerous, like most things on this planet, and Ava checks for them when she crawls out of the window. Looking down first and only then up, her fingers reaching for the first, familiar handhold. She checks for thwogs, too, with their strange, three-eyed faces and batlike wings.

At night they like to cling to the various wires and ropes and old chains that dangle between the repair shop and its sentinel crane and the storerooms (still infested with beans). But they respond to movement, not sound, and the soft squeaks of Ava’s boots are not enough to wake them.

She’s safe.

Unless, of course, Chanel hears her through the window she left propped open with a stack of physics textbooks and half-empty box of crackers. She promised – yesterday, in fact – to weld the window shut if Ava left it open again.

“This planet is literally infested with monsters, Ava.”

“They’re called fauna. And they were here long before the first moron with a hard-on for desert landscapes put down a temp-hab here. They don’t know this is our room.”

She did not mention that she’d seen one of the tundra frogs swallow a housecat whole the other day, spitting out its bones ten minutes later (picked clean of meat but streaky with blood). When Ava climbed up out of a canyon-crack to poke at them later she found that each one had split right along its centre, marrowless and as easy to snap with the toe of her boot.  

And all of that was fucked-up, sure, but cats are an invasive species, and the tundra frogs can’t climb the warehouse walls, so Ava put down a mag-web to deter smaller predators and left the window open (again) because she only wants to sneak out, not camp out.

She climbs the last fifteen metres of crane mostly with her arms, letting her feet dangle and using her knees for anchorage when she needs to, just in case the sound of her boots crawls in through the window and wakes Chanel, who (sadly) grew out of her ‘sleeping with headphones on’ phase several months ago.

But Ava’s been using her arms a lot longer than she’s been using her legs though, so the climb isn’t difficult even if it makes her sweat on her favourite hoodie. She reaches the platform on top of the crane, which is hardly even scrawny girl-sized, but big enough for Ava to sit or lay back on, watching the stars.

Ava does this most nights – the breakneck climb, eating crackers in her bed until Chanel falls asleep on the bunk above her and she can crawl out from underneath her faded blanket, slip into her Galactic Rangers hoodie (third-hand, with the “gal” part gone thanks to an incident with one of Grimroth’s old grenade launchers), and ease the window open like it’s a girl’s mouth.

cont. on Ao3

[cgarttrailsandtails]

It’s time to play,

Headcannons! (Sams, Laes, Eaps edition)

1. While Solar actually brews the coffee, Eclipse just straight up eats the beans when he needs/wants it

2. Nexus will sometimes go up to DSun for no reason and start talking about something he’s working on. DSun puts up with it begrudgingly

3. Sun has a bunch of photos in his camera roll that are just of his cats doing stupid sh*t

4. Dazzle sticks out her tongue at random occasions to make Jack laugh

5. Neptor vibrates when he’s scared, like just actually noticeably vibrates

6. Solar has been pulled to the kids’ room many times when he’s home because Jack wants to show him something or have him join in on whatever game the two are playing

7. Adding onto that, Jack makes little “machines” from DIY tutorials when he’s not doing anything else, and then shows his dad when he’s done. Through this hobby he’s made his own gumball machine (out of cardboard pieces), a mini catapult (out of popsicle sticks), and a little marble race game to play with Dazzle (out of cardboard, paper, lots of tape, a few stolen scrap pieces, and paint).

8. Earth likes to play dress up with Dazzle and Jack when she’s over to visit, and I can just imagine perfectly Jack going up to Solar in a frilly pink dress and with makeup covering his face and saying “Father, I am a pretty princess!”

9. Molten gets his wires caught on sharp edges sometimes, so he tries to keep away from them when he’s playing with the kids

10. (This one’s angsty sorry) When Solar gets frustrated, he’ll sometimes resort to hurting himself (banging his head, clawing at his plates, etc.) because it’s what his Moon did to him whenever he messed up or something just wasn’t working. He usually stops when someone comes over and stops him OR when he draws oil (blood). The second option only happens when no one else is around and after that bit, he usually realizes what he’s doing and stops, fixing it unless it’s somewhere he can’t see (like his faceplate) with his own eyes, in which case he’ll wrap it up to stop the leaking and continue working until someone else can help him fix it. Everyone knows he does this, and though Earth especially has tried to get him to stop it’s just a response he does from the trauma he’s got from his old universe’s Moon. (No changing it sadly-)

11. Whenever Lunar finishes a Nutella jar, he keeps them to use for precise target practice later

12. Puppet would take FC out somewhere every week for a mother son day, and now since they can’t leave the pizzaplex, she takes him to different attractions and plays games with him when she finds the time to

And that concludes this long ass game of headcannons, these all have been bugging me for like three days now. So, here ya go!

[angelswing236]

"No, you won't understand, ever."

Fictober 2023

Category: Fanfiction

Fandom: Downton Abbey

‘Mary, would you mind judging the best cake at the parish fair on Saturday?’ Cora asked as she took tea with her daughters one late May afternoon.

‘Me?’ Mary asked, looking distinctly unenthused.

‘Yes, I did ask Sybil to do it, but she’ll be close to her due date by then, so we thought you might not feel up to it, didn’t we, darling?’ Cora said, reaching out to pat her youngest daughter’s arm as Sybil fanned herself.

Edith turned away from the window, looking towards her mother. ‘I can do it.’

Cora exchanged glances with Mary and Sybil. ‘Oh, well, that’s kind of you to offer, darling, but I think Mary can do it, can’t you, Mary?’

‘Yes, of course, I can,’ Mary said, painting a smile on her face but still managing to look less than thrilled at the prospect.

Edith regarded them, taking in the quick looks, the concern and – worst of all – the pity.

‘Mary doesn’t want to do it,’ she said, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. ‘So, why didn’t you ask me?’

Cora shifted uncomfortably on her chair. ‘Well, you, er, you weren’t supposed to be here for the fair. You were supposed to be on your…’

‘Honeymoon. You can say it, Mama. I was supposed to be on my honeymoon. But I’m not on my honeymoon, am I? So, I can do it.' Edith surveyed her family feeling her temper quicken. 'Unless, of course, only married women are considered capable of judging the quality of cakes. In which case, obviously, I’m not suited to the job.’

There was an awkward silence for a moment until Cora spoke again, adopting a soothing tone.

‘Of course not, darling. I just wasn’t sure if you were ready for…’

‘For what? Facing the villagers after they all saw me being jilted at the altar?’ Edith snapped, perilously close to either losing her temper or bursting into tears. It was a toss-up between which would be most likely to happen.

‘Well… yes,’ Cora admitted, looking at her daughter with sympathetic eyes.

‘They already witnessed the main event, so I daresay the sight of me judging cakes won’t draw too much of a crowd. And I have to make myself useful, don’t I? Isn’t that what spinsters do?’ Edith asked bitterly, watching her sisters and her mother exchange more none-too-subtle glances. ‘Or would you rather just hide me away? The family disappointment nobody wants to acknowledge?’

Mary narrowed her eyes, annoyance overtaking the pity she felt for her sister. ‘Look, Edith, we understand that this is a difficult time for you, but – ’

‘Understand? You think you understand?’ Edith interrupted, feeling everything bubbling up inside her. ‘No, you won’t understand, ever. How could you? Were you humiliated on what should have been the happiest day of your life? No!’

‘Edith, we – ’ Sybil started, a concerned look on her face.

‘No! Look at you! Sitting there all smug because you have husbands! It’s all right for you, isn’t it? You’ve got your lives all sorted out, haven’t you? Mama, married for thirty years, surrounded by her daughters! Sybil and Mary married to the men they love! Sybil about to have a baby, Mary probably going to do the same! How can any of you possibly understand?’

Cora rose, walking towards her middle daughter, her hand outstretched. ‘Edith, my darling.’

Edith stepped away, shaking her head, losing control of all the emotions tumbling around inside her.

‘Every one of you has everything you want! I have nothing! Nothing! No husband! No prospects of getting one now I’ve been jilted! Everyone will think it was my fault! That there’s something wrong with me and that’s why Anthony wouldn’t marry me at the last minute! And if I don’t have a husband, I’ll never have children! I’ll be one of those women that people point at and whisper about! The one they'll use as a cautionary tale! You’d better be good, or you’ll end up like Edith Crawley, all alone without a single person to love her!’

Cora reached out, pulling Edith into her arms as the tears broke free. ‘I love you.’

‘It’s not the same, Mama!’ Edith sobbed, fighting against her mother’s embrace. ‘It’s not the same!’

‘I know, darling,’ Cora soothed, stroking Edith’s hair.

‘I want what you’ve all got! I want someone to love me! Me! I want someone who thinks of me first every day.’

‘And you’ll find him, you will.’

‘No, I won’t!’ Edith cried, crumpling into her mother’s arms.

‘Well, you won’t find him judging cakes,’ Mary put in.

Edith glared at her.

‘Give out prizes to the livestock farmers instead. There are more men there,’ Mary concluded with a smile.

There was a tense silence and then, despite herself, Edith began to laugh.

[dragondemoness]

Akane owari with a boyfriend that absolutely adores her and is affectionate. Thing is though she's worried that he only likes her because of her body and when he finds out he reassures her that he loves for her personality not her body.

Akane Owari with an Affectionate Boyfriend who Loves Her for who she is

She smells suspicion

You had always been strangely kind and amiable towards Akane, which threw her off a bit at first

But she didn't mind it, and naturally, it ended up drawing her to you

She was pretty casual when she asked you out, completely unprepared for how your attitude would evolve later on

She just figured that was the way you treated everyone, not once considering that she was a special case

Boy, was she wrong

Right after your relationship was made official, you jumped on her and gave her a tight koala hug

As if that wasn't surprising enough, there was a lot more where that came from

You were all over her every day and night, hugging her, kissing her, telling her how much you loved her and how special she was to you

Poor Akane had no idea how to deal with this

She never got compliments or affection like that before, unless it was from someone who did those things for creepy purposes

Maybe that's what this was

It's not like she was a stranger to that stuff, of course

If anything, she expected it

But she liked you a lot, and the thought of that being true made her heart sink

Sure, you complimented her on other things besides her body, but maybe it was some other method of buttering her up

Akane wasn't sure how to confront you about it, and she didn't want to see your normally pleasant and affectionate attitude turn sour

So she decided to say nothing, for the time being

But then one day, still somewhat early into your relationship, you two were hanging out together as you were giving Akane another one of your famous hugs

She tried to enjoy it, but it felt so weird to her that she had to say something

"Hey, uh... You sure love doin' this huggy thing a lot. You wanna cop a feel or somethin'?"

You pulled away and looked at her in surprise

"What? No, I do that because I love you. I mean, of course you're a really pretty girl, but that's not the reason I'm with you."

...Huh?

"Well damn, really? So... You don't wanna feel my knockers or anythin'?"

You chuckled as you shook your head

"No, Akane. I would only do that because you want it, not because you feel like you have to let me do it. And you never have to feel like that with me, okay? I love all of you, Akane. And I always will."

Hearing that from you was both a surprise and a relief

Once she recovered from the shock, she gave you a smile before burying her face into your neck and continuing the cuddles

After years of being mistreated by other men, she finally found someone who truly cared about her wants and needs

Even though she would likely ask that same question a few more times later on, and would need you to reassure her once more, she was glad to feel safe and secure with you

And of course, she did get used to your affection in the end, and she could never get enough of it

[illarian-rambling]

🐈 and 🖌️ for the OC explorations game?

🐈 How do they react to being cat-called?

Izjik: Instant death. She's throwing hands immediately, unless it's a hot lady, in which case she'll pretend to be angry, but secretly be kinda into it. I'm not gonna pretend she has the highest standards in the world when it comes to women. Or standards at all.

Sepo: For such a generally angry guy, Sepo tends to get very flustered when he's catcalled (which happens the most often to him out of the group because the man's stunning). Usually, he's happy to let Izjik handle it with the power of a thousand, angry, bitch-seeking missiles.

Twenari: Her go-to is, "Sorry sir, I don't have any spare change."

Djek: Catcalls them back in a much worse way until they get uncomfortable and leave. Or he'll just point and scream as loud as he can.

Astra: I think she'd be a little confused at first because she's a bit hard of hearing, but once she catches on, she'll get right up in their face, even if she has to stand on her tip toes. She'd then proceed to thoroughly chew out the catcaller, insulting everything from their shoes to their dog. This is usually far more intimidating when Mashal is standing behind her like the shadow of death itself.

Mashal: I think he'd also be really confused at first, then really concerned because why is this person catcalling a robot? He'd probably just walk away and ignore them.

Ivander: He'd be astounded that anyone would talk to him in such a way. Just utterly shocked. I think he'd also just walk away, though not out of any desire for peace, he's just at a loss for what to do.

Elsind: If they're wearing a specifically attractive form, I think they'd just be pleased their disguise is good. However, if it's been a rough day or he's walking around in his true form for some reason, he'd probably put on the most horrifying visage he could think of to scare them off, then go have a cry about it.

Avymere: Jail, immediately. They'd honestly be impressed by whoever has the gall to catcall the heir of Salis, but not enough to not have them arrested on the spot.

🖌 If they spray-painted a city wall, what would they write / draw?

Izjik: A very messy catfish with a silly expression. She'd try to sign her name, but it'd be illegible.

Sepo: A beautiful and frightening oceanscape featuring a ship caught in a storm. In one corner, painted very tiny, would be two siren boys. There'd be no words, but it's in memory of Saius.

Twenari: A set of whimsical floating islands with runes that make them bob up and down faintly.

Djek: "D Wuz Here" written in black letters that spread out in tendrils. He'd strive to get his graffiti into the weirdest, most unlikely places he could.

Astra: Written instructions on how to make a runic engine and alchemical formulas for otherwise expensive medicines. She'd put them in the center of town and repaint them brighter every time they get taken down.

Mashal: If he was given express permission or Astra managed to talk him into it, he'd make an incredible mural featuring mechanical horses galloping across a field of flowers. Out of all these chucklefucks, his art would be the most technically skilled.

Ivander: He'd paint some scandalous revelation about an authority figure for all to see. He'd also probably sign with the name of a person he doesn't like.

Elsind: She'd do flowers or something else simple and cute. Under it would probably be a motivational quote about everyone being beautiful.

Avymere: If they could somehow be convinced to do this, they'd probably just do a star or other easy shape. Creativity is not their strong suit.

Thanks for the ask, these were fun ones!

[hiddenwritingsintheworld]

Man After Midnight Ch. 3

Rich Mans World Series | Chapter 2 | Donations | Thoughts & Feelings

Weeks had passed and you’d finally got into physical therapy, which you were doing well in, two broken legs weren’t the easiest things to learn how to walk again on. Chris would watch you from afar, but it never went past that. He would always be on his phone, talking to someone, about what was something you weren’t privileged to know, unless it had to do with the house. After discussing things with Chris, he told you he had a surprise planned for you. 

Chris always made sure you had fresh flowers, the most comfortable pajamas or lounge wear, whichever you preferred and there were always two men, whom you’d never met before, posted within 10 feet of you at all times. You’d tried to ask Chris about it but he would nod to you and mumble something about ‘give him a minute’ then he’d disappear. 

You had one final surgery to go through, you’d told Chris about it but he’d left that morning, stating he’d be back before you went back. But he didn’t come back. In fact, you’d asked the nurses to wait an extra five minutes for him, and when the five minutes was up, he still hadn’t shown up, the nurse didn’t miss the tear that slipped from your eye as they wheeled you to the operating room. 

When Chris did show back up, your room was empty. He sighed rubbing his face, he felt bad, he had tried to get away from the meeting he’d called back truth be told without Sebastian around, things were falling apart a little. “How’s Y/N?” a soft voice called out from behind him. Turning, Chris laid eyes on Jamie, one of your friends, the only one to ever hit on him and give him her number. “She’s in surgery, I was about to go check with the nurses and see how it was going.” Chris said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Okay, well, afterwards do you want to go get some lunch in the cafeteria? I’m sure it’ll be a while before she gets out.” Jamie said with a soft smile. 

Chris was leery of her; what was her ultimate goal here? Was she trying to seduce him? She was too happy to be around him, most people coward away from him due to his body language but, to Jamie, it only seemed to draw her in more. “Jamie, listen, that’s nice of you, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I really need to stay close in case something happens with Y/N,” he told her. 

Jamie nodded and walked closer, putting a hand on his bicep. “I get it, but you still need to take care of yourself, in order to take care of her.” she said softly. “Come on, just lunch, maybe we can talk about what happened with her,” Jamie went to wrap an arm around his waist but Chris shoved her back. “Enough. Stay away from me, and more importantly, Stay away from my wife.” he snapped glaring at her. Jamie watched him walk away unknowing that she had just possibly exposed herself to him. She sighed, pulling out her cell phone as she turned walking away. “Hey, it’s me, I couldn’t get him away. What do you want me to do now?” 

Chris walked over to one of his men and looked at him before looking around. “You find out every piece of information you can on Jamie Walker, I want to know everything about her and what she’s up to.” he headed to the nurses station afterwards and tried to speak to several of them. “I’m trying to find out about my wife!” he raised his voice, causing a nurse to stop and look up at him. “Im sorry sir we have an emergency in the OR at the moment, someone will come find you whenever we can.” she said before she rushed off. 

Chris stared toward the doors leading to the operating rooms with a deep rooted fear in his chest. He just might lose you after all. 

As the day dragged on, no one was able to tell Chris anything, which had him climbing the walls. He was walking toward the nurses station, ready to tell them all off and demand to know what was going on with you. Just as he approached the nurses desk, a man called out your name. “Y/N Evans, is there someone here for Y/N Evans?” It was your doctor. “I'm her husband, is she okay?” he asked, walking over quickly. “Let’s step in here and discuss the surgery Mr. Evans,” the doctor led him into a room closed off from the waiting room. Stale air and depression filled the room. Was this it? Was he going to tell Chris the old line “I'm sorry Mr. Evans we did everything we could to save her,” or maybe he’ll give it straight, “I hate to tell you she passed away on the table.” Chris dug his nails into his palms while anxiously waiting.

Finally the doctor stepped back into the room and nodded at Chris. “Sorry about that, I had some things printed for you in regards to Y/N,” he laid out some images from your surgery. “These are some of the things we fixed in her arm, we added these screws, this plate, she’ll need another surgery to remove all that once she’s completely healed though.” he said as Chris examined each image. He looked up at the doctor and sat back, “So my wife is fine? I’ve been trying to find out information on her all day and was told there was an emergency and that no one could tell me anything!  When can I see her?” he asked with irritation all over his face. 

Your surgeon looked at him and sighed, “I’m sorry for the day long of worry Mr. Evans, We had another patient unfortunately pass away on another operating table today. a 24 week pregnant girl was in a car wreck, while trying to save her life, she passed away. Your wife is fine, you can follow me back to recovery and you can see her.” he said standing up. Chris stood up and towered over him. “Thank you for being straightforward with me. I appreciate that, I know where recovery is though, but thank you again.” he took the folder from the doctor and walked out of the room, down to recovery, and didn’t stop until he saw you. 

You were still sound asleep, your vitals looked great, and Chris couldn’t help but to smile a little seeing the black overlay on your cast. He sat beside you, gently holding your hand with a smile on his face. 

-Flashback-  

“Why black? I mean, sure it's timeless, but you’re so beautiful in pinks, blues, and reds, and literally almost any other color.” Maries voice came from your office as Chris walked past. The door was cracked and he didn’t, nor was he willing to admit it, but he desperately wanted to know what was going on. Your voice stopped him in his tracks. “I know, but Chris loves the color black, plus it goes with anything. Plus, the day I finally get to wear this for him, maybe he’ll love me….” 

It seemed he was only good at one thing anymore, and that’s breaking your heart. But that’s all going to change, he would make sure of it. Chris wanted to make sure you had the best life, for his best girl. He leaned down and gently kissed your fingers, “I promise you life will be so much better,” he whispered. “Yeah?” your voice croaked out. Your eyes were barely open, and you kept lazily blinking them, no doubt the effect of the medications you had been given. “Hey baby girl, how are you feeling?” he whispered, reaching up to brush some hair back behind your ear. “I’m thirsty, and hungry,” you whispered as he smiled and nodded. “I bet, here,” he pushed the call button for a nurse to come help you. 

Chris watched as the nurse came in and checked your vitals, talked to you for a few moments before she went and brought you some ice water. “I’ll be back to check on her shortly, once she wakes up more, we’ll put some applesauce or puddy in her belly and see how we do with that before we do any heavy foods? Sounds good?” she smiled down at you before looking over at Chris who nodded. “Sounds great, Thank you,” he helped you get a drink of water before he covered you up a little better and smiled down at you brushing the hair out of your face. “I’m so glad you’re okay sweetheart.” 

As more weeks passed by you were finally released from the hospital, and after voicing your opinion to Chris about what the house should look like you were very surprised when Anthony pulled up on your street, driving toward what would have been your home. “Chris, where are we going?” He just smiled at you, bringing your fingers to his lips and kissing them gently. “It’s a surprise for you,” he said grinning. You felt yourself smiling back at him as he grinned. 

When Anthony turned the corner, there at the end of the street, was a beautiful gated house. Your eyes widened slightly and you looked over at Chris. “Welcome home baby,” he kissed your hand.

[ae-neon]

I remember reading Nesta and the Bat boy first meeting. Az was quiet, as usual. But i remember Rhys or Cass making comment something about Feyre saviour bla bla where she is saved because she cant read.

Now, people call Nesta mean and a bitch and villain and i cant understand why. Yeah, she mean and cold bitch. But we all know she us the bitch that keep it to herself unless she is attacked. That is the case with Cassian, he keep seeing Nesta as an opponent to tackle down.

Dude, that is scary you know. Reading that alone is scary. In Wing and Ember whatever it is, Cassian keep circling the Archeron mansion and 'preparing himself' to face Nesta. Prepare what? Just tell her the new and fuck off. Why is he keep pushing Nesta with his game?

If my future husband tells me I am a steel flame human that need to win, tackled down. I would be scared. Why the hell you fell the need to win me like I am sort of trophy? I am supposed to be your partner, you friend, not opponent

And I remember he tried to initiated someting with Nesta but it turn into fear. Cass scented fear from the previous rape attempt of Thomas to Nesta. Dude 😭, if i am you i would apologize and get tf out of the house. You tried to knock Nesta down and even have her whole rape attempt flashback.

Yesss anon

People ignore that Nessian was red flags from the jump!!

Cassian randomly goes in on Nesta the first time they meet even tho the NC is there to ASK FOR HER HELP???

And then in wings and embers (which we're supposed to read as sexy foreshadowing of their relationship) his actions literally trigger her fight or flight. Cassian's flirting literally scares Nesta.

And she asks to deal with Azriel instead.

Something she will ask for again and again for the next 3 years.

Everytime I really think about canon Nessian it gets worse and worse. It's been a predatory breakdown of her boundaries from day 1

Just to remind yall if you think Cassian would die for Nesta: he's never even fought for her. He physically abused her on behalf of others.

Nesta would tell Feyre to kick rocks if Feyre even asked Nesta to be mean to Cassian. Him? Well, hell scream at Nesta that she doesn't deserve love.

It's easy to say Cassian would defend Nesta from an outside threat - in his own words he'd do it for anyone. There's nothing personal about it.

In fact, that's where he draws the line. If you "know" Nesta, you have every right to treat her however you want and Cassian will at best sit back and do nothing or at worst he'll help you treat her like shit

Fuck Cassian, he lives to gargle failsands juices

[mareenavee]

WIP Whenever~

So no, I haven't been tagged in this at the moment~ (unless I have and tumblr notifs are being a large pain in the butt by not informing me -- if so! My bad) In that case, I'll start the train (: Share some fun stuff, friends!

Tagging the most esteemed and unparalleled @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @rhiannon1199, @friend-of-giants, @thequeenofthewinter, @snippetsrus, @saltymaplesyrup, @archangelsunited, @tallmatcha, @airiat, @thelightofmorning, @thana-topsy and @the-storytellers-seer! Leaving some amazing TES writers for the others to tag into the game this week, or else I'd just post a huge long list of tags of people whose work I love to see. (: Maybe I ought. But for now, to the words!!

Below the cut, some of my AU one-shot in which Nyenna and her brother, Eris actually make it to Solstheim first, and miss the Helgen nonsense entirely. Oh, but have they? Have they really?

“Ah, so, that’s why Morrowind, then,” Teldryn said. She nodded. “We all have our troubles, outlander. No need to apologize.” He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. She turned her gaze on him then, all the pain she’d tried to keep inside right there in her eyes. She closed them and tilted her head back, as if to prevent the tears from falling. Ash floated lazily down, collecting in the stray strands of her hair like snow.

“Yes. For a second today, I felt free for the first time in years. Every day I’d question if it’d be our last. If we were careful enough. They were everywhere. It felt like such a weight was lifted to cross the border to somewhere safe after such struggle. You’ve no idea, and I likely couldn’t convey it if I tried,” Nyenna said with a small sigh. “And Y'ffre knows I’ve tried.”

“I know a thing or two about trying to keep a low profile,” Teldryn said with a snort. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Hence the helmet, even indoors?” Nyenna ventured. “Oh, but I’m sorry to say, it’s not very, ehm…inconspicuous, is it?” He chortled and she smiled warmly. “I noticed you right away, for the record.”

“Ah. Well. Hence the helmet, especially indoors, in that case,” Teldryn drawled. She couldn’t see it through his scarf but he was grinning. Astute, this one. She had a point about the chitin. “Can’t do with not drawing the attention of an…interesting outlander.” She laughed then, stress melting from her shoulders like so much ice.

“It’s been quite a long time since I was able to tell anyone anything of my struggles. Thank you for…well, for all of this. I’m just a stranger. You couldn’t have known how much it would mean,” Nyenna said. Her fingers brushed against his hand briefly, probably on purpose. There was another shock, gone again before he could register what the hell it could be. Magicka, maybe. Something strange. Did she even know how loud she was? The sensation wasn’t a sound, exactly, but something beyond. He glanced at her and felt his face flush. Thank Azura for the helmet, then. It was useful, after all. He cleared his throat and scratched under the edge of his scarf.

“As I said, we all have our troubles,” he said carefully. “Think nothing of it.” He shifted a little and faced her again. “Say, if you’re going to Tel Mithryn after all, I wouldn’t mind the company, by the way. I was headed out that way later this week in any case.”

“Oh, so I’m that interesting, am I?” Nyenna said with another laugh. “You would change your plans just to tag along?”

“Well, that and it’s not exactly a safe passage. Reavers and all in the crossing,” Teldryn mumbled. Normally he’d have tried to turn this into some kind of job, but he was finding, inexplicably, that he did not really want to be parted from her after all. Strange. They’d barely exchanged a handful of words.

“It wouldn’t be wise to refuse such a chivalrous offer,” Nyenna said with a small smile. “But I think Eris and I will be just fine. We probably can’t afford the fee, and I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Oh, but I wasn’t angling to be hired or anything,” Teldryn said, though he wasn’t sure why such words were falling out of his mouth at the moment. Was he ever a s'wit. He held out his palms in a gesture of peace and sighed. “It’s no imposition, outlander. Promise. What do you say?” Nyenna laughed then, which was unexpected.

“Just so you know, we don’t really need protecting. Eris might not look like much, but he’s kept us both alive so far,” she said. “He’s a good mage, actually. Better than a lot of people I’ve seen in my time.” Teldryn crossed his arms over his chest again.

“It’s a difficult trip, I think, for mages on their own. Swords still pierce wherever armor isn’t,” Teldryn observed with distaste. “What about you? Are you a mage, too?” He was grateful for the opening to talk about the Magicka observation without seeming strange or too nosy. She smiled wistfully and shook her head.

“When I was younger, I was strictly forbidden from learning anything of the sort. No fighting, no magic. I accepted it, but lately I’ve been reading over Eris’s shoulder. He pulled a spell out of nowhere this morning,” she said casually. Teldryn knit his eyebrows.

“What does that mean?” he asked before he could caution himself. So much for not seeming nosy.

[itsmebytch001]

Yandere AOT Pt1:

Note: Hello, in all my yan Fics, it may get dark, but it will never be SA, or non con, or anything like that, it's okay if you're into that, as long as you don't bring that into the real world.

TW: Emotional manipulating, mild violence Yandere Mikasa Yandere Annie, with more yandere to come!

You, a newly accepted member of the cadet core, eager to please and to prove yourself as a cable soldier sat in your hard and un-pillowed bunk bed, staring at the wooden celling trying to sleep, one day in and your already seconding guessing what you've done...why are you here? For a cushy life as a member of the military police? Guard the walls? Or to fight titans and seizes and adventure new lands outside the walls? Who knows! You certainly didn't. The first day had gone fine, You stood in a line, back Stright with a fauve face of determination trying not to cry as a old man yelled at the people Stading beside you, as he walked down the row of new soldiers asking them

"And why you here?!"

They answered with reasonable statements like "To take back wall Maria" or "To protect the walls" except one guy who said "To kill every last titan, EVERY LAST ONE" He was a bit weird, You later found his name was Eren.

Bringing you back to the present, gazing again at the ceiling, you hear the shuffling of the girls sleeping around you, one snoring loudly, you pressed your pillow into your face hoping to drown out the noise, waiting for the next day to arrive.

Months have gone day since that day, soon you will be proper graduating soldiers instead of silly untrained children. Today was hand to hand combat training, which you thought was slightly useless, unless you were interested with the military police, in which case you may need to rough up some people, but if you're a scout? what the hell are you going to do with the knowledge of how to throw a proper punch as you are bitten in half by a ravenous Titan?

You were partnered up, shown how to block, how to kick and disarm a gun with a wooden model, every one was either goofing off, or half assing the training, expect one Annie who dominated over all others, sure she was fighting dirty with that under handed leg toss, but it sure was impressive, you noticed she kept side eyeing you as you waved around a toy wooden gun...strange.

Mikasa approached you...

Mikasa: "hey...what are you doing?"

Y/N: " nothing much, you?"

Mikasa placed her hand on your shoulder, and pulled you towards her.

Mikasa: " You should pay attention, you might need these skills in the future if the right situation arises."

Y/N: " yeah but..."

Mikasa: " but nothing, come one"

she said, slightly dragging you away to the centre of the sandy arena. She put her hands up in fits, as she was about to fight you,

Mikasa: "Put your hands up, defend yourself"

timidly you put your hands up, in a uncertain fighting position, you knew she wouldn't hit you hard, or to much...*BLAM* She punched you right in the nose.

Y/N:" Ahhh!"

Grabbing your face in pain, cowering away from her, you yelled out.

Y/N:" Mikasa, what the fuck?!"

Mikasa: "defend yourself!" She said as she lunged again at you, you dodged quickly, as her leg swung in your direction you again tried to swerve her, but it was too late, her leg whacked you in the rids, again you tried to escape her in a quick run, drawing the attention of your comrades as you ran from her, her scarf wavering in the wind as she chased you, you knew you couldn't out run her, but you weren't just going to allow her to beat you. You hoped maybe your friends watching would help but one did, but then, just as Mikasa was about to be untop of you, a blonde dash came to your saviour, tackling Mikasa to the ground, It was Annie.

As Annie pinned Mikasa to the ground while she struggled underneath her you stopped to catch your breath, looking over to Annie and Mikasa a proper scrap had emerged.

Mikasa: " Get The HELL off me!" she screamed as she wriggled under Annie.

Annie: "Calm down"

Mikasa then headbutted Annie, so hard it caused a nose bleed, Annie fell back off of Mikasa, but quickly and calmy stood up, ready to fight. Mikasa too stood up ready for a beat down, this was all escalating vey fast, and over you? Seemed a bit much really.

Mikasa primally screamed as she lunged at Annie, throwing a high kick. Annie then expertly grabbed her high leg, and tossed her over to the ground, and then began to twist. Mikasa screamed in pain as she struggled against Annies grip. You thought she was going to snap the bones in her leg until...

Jean: " Hey hey! ladies! calm down a bit will ya?!"

Annie: " back off Jean this doesn't involve you"

Jean:" Annie, if you hurt her, you could get thrown out, and come on it's nothing serious"

God he was condescending, though in this case he was right. Annie coldly let go of Mikasa's leg and walked off into your direction, as she walked by gazing down at you, her sharp eyes glaring at you, her shoulder purposefully shoved into yours, you were confused, she had just defended you from a psychotic Mikasa, why so rude?

As the others surrounded the dissipating commotion, Sasha then asked.

Sasha: "What the hell was that about?"

Y/N:" I honestly don't know"

Armin then rushed over to Mikasa side, Helding her up, and letting him lean on her since her leg was injured, they do began to waddle in your direction, and as they passed you, you met Mikasa's hard eyes, she looked as if she was about to cry? How odd.

Pay it no mind, you thought.

So as the day went on the sun began to set, and as you, and all you're sweaty comrades fuelled into the mess hall, you sat on the table agistment to Mikasa, Sasha, Eren and Armin, you were tired, in pain and starving, picking at your depressing scarps of food, bread, mash and water, sitting alone you noticed the ever growing feeling of being watched, you turned your head you see Annie, calmy staring you down, had you done something wrong? seriously what is her problem?

You turned back around to focus on your food, but then, in the seconds you turned your head around Mikasa had sat in front of you, With her plate of food scrapes as if she were to eat lunch with you? After she what happened this morning? She sure had some nerve.

Mikasa: " Listen Y/n, I wated to...apologises, for this morning. I should not have just ran at you like that, or hit you that hard in the face"

She seemed genuine.

Mikasa; " But really i meant what I said, you should have payed attention to the training, incase you need it, And if you like...I could train you?"

You were conflicted obviously, but you did need the training in order to do well...And Mikasa was an excellent fighter..so you agreed.

Y/N: "I would like to train with you, but really it wasn't cool how you almost broke my nose! if Annie hadn't stepped in would you have beaten me to a pulp"

Mikasa: " I...I just want you to be ready, if someone attacks you have to be ready, ready to strike, to defend yourself! You don't you die! I'm sorry that i was hard on you but I just want to to defend yourself"

You weren't willing to argue with her anymore.

Y/N: "Ugh...fine FINE..."

Mikasa: "So you'll train with me?"

Y/N:" Sure, yeah that would be useful"

Mikasa: "good. I'll see you tomorrow at dawn"

She then stood up, and returned to her table.

At dawn? Tomorrow at dawn? seriously? Dear god what have you just agreed too?

LIKE FOR A PART TWO!!!

[freddie-foxs]

Of Irland, Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Instead of being taken captive in Winchester, Stiorra leaves for Irland with a friend of her father’s. There she meets Sigtryggr, a Dane, the grandson of Ivar the Boneless.

Chapter 1: Let Me Go

Chapter warnings: Drinking, Language, Mentions of SA Words: 3977 A/N: This was originally posted on AO3, now being added onto Tumblr. AO3

“Drifa please,” she begged. “Please let me come with you.”

“I cannot,” Drifa sighed. 

They’d been going around in circles for what must have been an hour. Simply put, Stiorra was bored with her life in Coccham. She yearned for adventure and excitement. Things that Coccham did not offer. She’d been surrounded by the same men for years on end, forced to have a Christian education. But she believed in the gods. Stiorra had no intention of remaining in Coccham where, one day, possibly soon, she’d be sold into marriage to a man she despised. It had happened to Aethelflaed. She did not want it to happen to her.

Drifa was leaving for Irland to help the Danes who were in trouble there. She’d once served Young Ragnar there and helped him make a name for himself. Drifa had been at Ethandun and at Dunholm, which was where she met and befriended Uhtred. Then Ragnar was killed, and she’d spent a few years in her home far across the sea in Norway. She held land and was a Jarl there. When she came back, she’d brought some men with her. And now they’d stopped in Coccham on their way out to Irland, to adventure, which was exactly what Stiorra wanted.

“I will not risk your father’s wrath,” Drifa said. She was not afraid of Uhtred, but that did not mean she wanted to lose his friendship. “Irland will be very dangerous. A war zone. It would not be sensible to take you there.”

“I can defend myself,” Stiorra insisted, drawing her knife. “Anywhere is better than here. Please!”

“Stiorra, you are the Dane Slayer’s daughter. I am going into a nest of Danes. If they find out who you are, half would want to hump you, and the other half would want to kill you as vengeance.”

“I can defend myself,” she repeated. 

Drifa sighed, running out of excuses. They had ranged from not enough room on the boat (“I’m small, I won’t take up much room.”) to not having enough horses (“I can ask my father to give me a horse”). 

“Please, Drifa. I want to live amongst my mother’s people, to find the part of myself that died when she was taken from me.”

 Drifa did not have a good counter to that. Gisela had been her friend. 

“Please, Drifa,” Stiorra pleaded. “ Let me go .”

Drifa groaned, turning towards the window, and leaning on the frame. She sighed, conceding. Stiorra would make a good politician. “Fine,” she growled, grudgingly, not happy to be admitting defeat. “You may come.”

Stiorra jumped up in victory. 

“But,” Drifa warned. “But.” 

Stiorra stopped jumping. 

“You will follow my every order. You are one of my people now.” 

Stiorra nodded. 

At that moment, Finan’s voice called up the stairs. “Unless you want us to eat all the food, you two better come down here!”

“Not on your life, Finan,” Drifa joked to the Irishman. “Not on your life.”

“Then hurry up. I’m starving.”

Drifa looked back at Stiorra, who’d been giggling, her face turning serious. “I will tell you all you need to know on the journey. And Stiorra,” she told her. “You had better remember it all.”

“How’s the food, Drifa?” Uhtred asked.

“Delicious as always, Uhtred,” Drifa said. “My compliments to whoever made this.” She was just being polite, as always, Stiorra could tell. The stew was disgusting.

“It was Finan who made it,” she informed. 

“Well, in that case,” Drifa began. She swallowed another spoonful, and grimaced. “You need to find yourself a woman,” she spluttered. 

Everyone began to laugh. 

“I have no idea how you’re even alive if this is what you eat.”

"So, Drifa," Uhtred said, when the laughter had simmered down, "tell us a story from Irland. I'm sure you have one you have not yet told." 

"Oh, always, Uhtred, always," she chuckled.

"Well, then," goaded Finan, "tell us a story from home."

Drifa put her spoon down and thought for a moment. “Which one do you want me to tell?” she questioned.

“Innis dhaibh am fear mu dheidhinn a 'phut,” proposed Asvard, Drifa’s best friend and advisor.

“Chan eil mi cinnteach gur e deagh bheachd a tha sin,” she said, raising her eyebrows in a jokey manner.

“Would it kill either one of you to speak a language we can understand?” Finan said exasperated. 

“Just tell the story!” encouraged Sihtric. 

Drifa nodded. She downed her cup of ale and set it down.

“One night,” she began, “I was walking the streets of Deflyn. The moon was out, the stars were shining. It was peaceful. I was walking to the tavern, in need of ale. And, I hoped, to watch the world go by. I’m almost there, just around the corner, when I hear this noise.” 

At this moment, Asvard let out a large snort. She glared at him murderously and he quickly changed his laugh into a cough. Stiorra began smiling. Drifa’s stories, at least the funny ones, always led somewhere inappropriate. She silently hoped her father would forget she was there and not tell Drifa to stop.

After she was finished glaring, Drifa continued: “Now this noise, it sounded like a dog. And I do not really like dogs, so I went to investigate.” 

Hæfnir had most of his fist stuffed in his mouth, desperate not to laugh. Jomar was staring fixedly at his plate, a smile teasing the corner of his mouth. 

“I drew my knife.” 

Another poorly concealed snort. Stiorra was staring to giggle herself now, in anticipation. 

“I walked to the door. I slowly opened it.” 

A small chorus of snorting. Everyone on the edge of their seats. “And I was confronted by this magnificent, wonderful, beautiful view of a…” she paused for dramatic effect. “A butt.” 

A massive snort came from her men. Asvard had his face in the crook of his elbow. Stiorra choked on her drink.

“WHAT?” Uhtred shouted, perplexed. 

“You heard me!” Drifa said indignantly. “A butt, an arse, a buttocks, bum. Derrière, if you’re a Frank.” She paused for a breath. “A butt!” She took two chicken legs and two bones laying them on her plate like a butt… but with something else. 

Stiorra began to understand.

“You mean to say,” began Sihtric. “That you walked in on someone… um,” he stopped, not wanting to say the word in front of Uhtred and in the presence of his daughter.

“Humping?” Stiorra said, innocently. There was silence. You could have heard a pin drop. 

Uhtred’s eyes widened. “Stiorra!” he admonished. 

The silence began again. Then all hell broke loose.

Hæfnir fell off his chair, taking his wife, who’d been sitting on his lap, with him. Sigbjorn fell face first in his food, prompting Ingemar to laugh at him so he shoved Ingemar’s face into his food. Asvard fell back off his chair. Finan and Sihtric clung to each other. Osferth had stopped with his spoon halfway to his mouth. 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Finan spluttered. “What did you do?”

“Well, what do you think I did? I turned tail and ran.” 

They started to laugh again. 

Drifa held up a hand. She was not finished. “And I spent the rest of the night at the tavern trying to forget what I had just seen.”

“Well, did you know who the arse belonged to?” asked a puzzled Osferth. 

There was a snort from Sihtric.

“I knew exactly who it belonged to. The funny part is that when I woke up, he was coming out of a house. But not the house I’d walked into.”

“So,” Finan sputtered, “are you saying he humped two different women in one night?” 

Everyone looked at her.

“That is precisely what I am saying.” 

Silence followed her words. When the hilarity exploded this time, Stiorra half expected soldiers to come running with how loud they all got.

When everyone had calmed down, Drifa spoke again. “Bear in mind that this happened a few years ago, when he went through a…” she paused, thinking of the right word, “rebellious streak.”

“Must have been one hell of a rebellious streak if he was humping two women in one night,” Finan joked.

“Oh, yes. His brothers gave him hell for that.”

“He reminds me of Hæfnir,” Unn recalled. 

Mutual agreement spread through the table. Hæfnir was still picking himself up off the floor.

Another hour of feasting, laughing and joking flew by. Drifa began ordering her people to bed (“To sleep ,” she emphasised) and Stiorra, exhausted, followed suit. 

She collapsed on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Tomorrow, she would be riding away, far away from here. Riding to Irland.

Stiorra was woken the next morning by someone shaking her. She opened her eyes, finding herself staring back into Drifa’s blue-green ones. Her eyes almost seemed to glow, even in the half-light of dawn. Seeing she was awake, Drifa left the room, her footsteps barely audible. 

Stiorra rubbed her eyes and glanced out the window. There was barely a sliver of sun visible on the horizon. Yawning and stretching, she got up, dressed, and tiptoed downstairs. Drifa’s men also seemed tired but were busily packing a few remaining things. Stiorra followed suit.

They crept out of the house, trying not to wake anyone. Drifa left a note on the table for Uhtred. They mounted their horses and rode off. They rode long and hard. There wasn’t much conversation, the noise of the horses was too loud. The wind whipped through Stiorra’s hair, stinging her eyes, but she kept them open, not wanting to miss one bit of this incredible journey. 

She was leaving home. She was going to Irland. 

She’d be able to live amongst her mother’s people, the people that had raised her father. She was no longer tied down and stuck in Coccham, waiting, and dreading the day she’d be forced to marry someone she despised. 

She was free.

They stopped only once, partly to relieve themselves and partly to eat. That was at midday. The next time Drifa called a halt, it was dark. 

Stiorra was exhausted. She almost collapsed getting off the horse. 

Unn cooked a stew for supper. It was eaten in silence, everyone too tired to talk. 

Once all the bowls were clean, Stiorra laid down on her bedroll and slept.

She was awoken the next morning by Drifa. Again. The sun was barely up. Stiorra groaned, leaving the warmth and softness of her bedroll for the cold hardness of the saddle. 

And again, they rode. Long and hard. Onwards and onwards. The trees and grass and hills seemed never-ending. Wessex was so much bigger than she had thought. They rode so fast; Stiorra was surprised that they had barely stopped. Drifa seemed desperate to get to Irland.

By evening, the party came to a stop at a port town called Bristou. Drifa arranged lodgings for the night while everyone else secured their horses. Stiorra was tying her horse in the stables when Thora, Frida and Mœid appeared at her shoulder. 

“We’re going to the market,” Thora informed. “Would you like to come?”

Stiorra eagerly accepted.

The market was bustling, even as the sun went down. There were stalls selling all kinds of things, things Stiorra had never seen before. There was gold jewellery from the Far East, swords and fabric from Frankia, furs and axes from Scandinavia. 

Stiorra was surprised. 

Danes were free to trade here.

She turned her head, left and right, not knowing where to look. 

Frida was looking at the Frankish linen, Thora and Mœid were admiring the jewellery. 

Stiorra could have sworn she saw Hæfnir at one of the stalls, buying something for his wife.

The fun ended too soon. Asvard came and told them that it was time to eat and then to sleep. “There is still another leg of the journey.”

The Innkeeper did not seem particularly happy about so many Danes sat at one of his tables, but Drifa’s silver kept him quiet. She seemed to have an endless supply.

 Stiorra wondered how she got it all. 

Over supper, Drifa finally told Stiorra why they had rushed so quickly to get there. “The Danes in Irland will need help if they do not already. Cnut should be going to help them, but I do not trust him. He is slippery.”

“Who’s in charge in Irland?” Stiorra asked. She was sure Drifa had mentioned it before, but she could not remember.

“Irland was conquered by Ivar the Boneless. It was passed to his son, Ivarr and now it is ruled by his sons: Ivar, Sigtryggr and Rognvaldr.”

“What are they like?”

“Ivar is… stupid, ugly and an arse. Rognvaldr is less ugly, but drunk and an arse. Sigtryggr is…” she paused. “Sigtryggr is smart, like his grandfather.”

“She paused because she thinks Sigtryggr is han-” Drifa’s cousin, Asfrid began.

“You shut your mouth!”

Asvard spat out his drink.

Much later, Stiorra lay on her bed, thinking about Irland. Thoughts were whirling round and round her head. What would Irland be like? What would its rulers be like? She’d said Ivar was stupid. Was he like Cnut? And Rognvaldr, a drunk. A drunk she could imagine. And then there was Sigtryggr. Smart as his grandfather. He had to be a formidable warrior.

Stiorra shook her head, trying to empty her mind of these thoughts. She couldn’t start obsessing over people she had never met. One last leg… That last leg on a boat. She’d never been on a boat.

Only a few more days until she stepped on non-English soil.

Stiorra threw up over the side of the boat. The wind blew some of it back in her face. 

Ingemar laughed. “Still have to find your sea legs!” he jeered. 

She glared at him while the others joined him in laughing. 

Drifa let out a small smile. She stood at the prow of the ship, looking out for Irland. 

Stiorra found that she liked a boat even less than a horse. A horse left pain in your head and your arse. A boat left waves of dizziness, followed by bouts of sickness. If she had to choose, she’d take the horse. When she did not feel sick, she gazed around her. If she squinted, she could see Wealas on one side, and a part of Irland on the other, barely a ghost on the horizon.

The sea churned beneath them again. Another vomiting session. The boat sailed further West. Soon enough, land was properly in sight. They docked on a beach near a village called Trá Mhór. 

“I will go in,” Drifa was saying. “We don’t know what has happened these last few years.”

“So, we stay on the boat?” Stiorra asked Thora.

“We stay on the boat,” she said, “and let Drifa find out what has happened. Then we will sail on to Deflyn.”

Drifa was gone until long after dark. When she came back, she told them that a rebellion had started forming. “They’ve raided a few villages, but apparently nothing serious enough to get Ivar’s attention.”

“Ivar ignores his people being killed?” Stiorra said, confused. What man did not care for his own people.

“Like I said. Stupid. Maybe I should have added another stupid,” Drifa joked.

“Ivar Ivarrsson does not give a shit about his people,” Asvard said. “As long as the Irish are not bothering him, safe in Deflyn, then no, he does not care.”

“Not all men are like your father,” Unn told her.

The boat began to move again. The sickness returned. By the afternoon of the next day, the end of the journey was in sight. 

“Feast your eyes on Deflyn!” Drifa announced. 

Deflyn was a small city, far smaller than Winchester. Its walls were made with wooden logs. Small watchtowers were dotted around the city. A few scouts were visible in the trees, but they did not bother the ship.

The ship was docked, and the group walked into the city of Deflyn. It was messy and crowded. There was a market street, traders shouting, showing off their wares. All kinds of things were sold. The market was almost as busy as Bristou had been, perhaps more so. Taverns were everywhere. Men already deep in their cups. Women sitting on their laps. A few people waved at Drifa. One man stumbled up and cheered, forgetting the woman who was now picking herself up off the floor. She punched the man in the face. The man, drunk as he was, tried to hit her and ended punching someone else. A tavern brawl in earnest.

This was what freedom looked like. What being a Dane looked like. This bustling city, with its wooden houses and noisy people. 

Stiorra loved it.

The party walked on to the Great Hall. It was easily the largest building there. Danish carving decorated the door frames. There were many windows all over. It was like a palace. The inside of it was full of smoke and rather stuffy. 

Stiorra could make out the vague shapes of men sitting at the long tables. Suddenly, the smoke cleared. She glanced at Drifa. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back. She had used her magic to clear the smoke. Stiorra turned her attention to the raised dais at the back of the hall.

A long table was perched on top. There were many seats, but only three men were actually sat there. The one on the left had long brown hair and a pointed face. A small beard covered his chin. Stiorra suspected that this must be Rognvaldr, particularly as the next thing he did was pick his mug of ale and drink deeply. 

She could not see the one on the right. He was shrouded in shadow. 

The middle one had stood, glaring warningly at the newcomers. He stomped around the table, and towards Drifa. Up close, Stiorra could see that he was large. His hair was red and long. His beard thick and streaked with grey. His eyes were a cold blue.

“Who are you, stranger?” he said, his voice harsh.

“I am many things. If it is my name you want, then ask for it,” Drifa retorted. “Otherwise, I shall go into the long meandering ramble of who I am.”

“Then your name.”

“My name is Jarl Drifa,” she told him. “And what might your name be?” 

He glared at her. 

She glared back. Then she broke into a wide grin and started laughing. 

His harsh expression shattered too, and he joined in. “She’s back!” he called to the Hall. The men too began to laugh. “Come, sit, eat, drink,” he offered, leading Drifa and her people to the table. 

Asvard pulled Stiorra along with him. He dumped her unceremoniously in the seat next to the man in the shadows. She turned to speak to him, but he got up and left. All she saw of him was the back of his head, his long mane of hair.

“So, tell us, Jarl Drifa,” Ivar was saying, “what new stories do you have to entertain us this time?!”

Rognvaldr noisily swallowed his food. “It had better not be another version of the story of my brother’s arse!” 

Asvard snorted into his ale.

“I could tell you of your own arse!” Drifa joked.

“You could tell us of this woman you have brought with you,” Ivar suggested. 

Stiorra did not like the way he was eyeballing her.

“Leave off the eye-fucking,” Jomar told him. 

Ivar raised an eyebrow at his language.

“Jomar,” Drifa sighed, “I swear, that one of these days, I am going to kill you.” She took a deep breath, and then yelled, “SHUT IT WITH THE LANGUAGE!” 

Asvard choked on his ale.

“Like you have any control either,” he spluttered.

“Faodaidh tu do bheul beag inneil a dhùnadh agus a bhith nas lugha de tholl asail,” she jabbered.

“Like I said.”

“What did she say,” asked Ivar.

“I told him to shut up.”

“You do know asail actually means donkey.” 

At this, Drifa splashed her ale in his face, to which he responded by punching her. The men cheered, egging them on. 

Stiorra half expected Ivar to put a stop to the fight, but he too joined in the egging.

Danes, she thought.

The feast lasted for many hours, and there were many more drinks and fights. A man, very drunk, tried to get Drifa to hump him. 

She replied by kicking him in between his legs. At some point, Drifa stumbled over and suggested that she take herself back to the house. 

Drifa had pointed out the street that she and her warriors lived on, and Stiorra was confident that she could make her way there. She lurched up, a little drunk herself, and began to slowly walk.

The night air outside the Hall was cool. Stiorra hadn’t realised how hot it was in there. She took a few deep lungfuls of the soothing air, and began to walk. Well, stumble. She was drunk enough that she did not look where she was going. Then she collided with something hard. 

That something hard turned out to be a Dane. This Dane turned to see what hit him and found himself looking at a small, drunk girl. He sneered. 

Stiorra started to back away. “Where are you going, woman?” he slurred. “Are you lost? I could help you find your way.”

Stiorra kept moving back. “I am going home. I know where I live.”

“It is not safe for a woman to be alone in these parts.” His hand shot out, catching her wrist. 

Stiorra struggled, trying to break free. 

“Stop fighting!” he ordered. “It will do you no good.” The Dane dragged her into an alley. 

She tried screaming, but he blocked her mouth. She wriggled, viciously, trying to dislodge herself. But the Dane was strong and huge. She heard a ripping noise. And she begged the gods to save her.

A whoosh, then a thwack, and the Dane was pushed off her. Stiorra fell face first into the ground. She glanced behind her, wondering who her saviour was. 

The Dane who’d tried to attack her was getting up on his feet, but there was another Dane. Her helper punched the man again. And again. And soon, the Dane who attacked her was no longer moving. 

The other rose, turning his attention to her. He came towards her, and she backed away. But he knelt down, holding his hand up. “ I will not harm you, ” was all he said. 

Stiorra stopped moving. 

She could only see a sliver of his face, an eye. An ice-blue eye. Like Ivar’s. Only this one was warmer. 

He held out his hand to her and she took it. His hand was warm and rough. His eyes (for she assumed there was another) looked her up and down. He released her hand and shrugged out of his tunic. He held it out. 

She took it, pulling it down over her own head. It smelled of leather and iron. A nice smell. 

He offered her his hand again and pulled her up. She stumbled slightly, and strong, muscled arms caught her. He picked her up and carried her. 

She still said nothing, wondering at this handsome stranger who saved her. Her drunkenness was causing her to become dizzy, so she still could not see his face.

He carried her to the houses that Drifa had mentioned. 

Stiorra wondered if this was perhaps one of her other men. The ones who’d been sent before. 

He knocked on a door and it opened to reveal Torgärd. 

She gasped at seeing Stiorra’s beaten and bruised state.

Stiorra faintly heard her thanking the man and began pulling her inside.

“Wait,” Stiorra said. “Who are you?”

She turned around to see him better.

“I am Sigtryggr.”

[americas1suiteheart]

Bringing chapter two of this on because I got really burnt out with writing new stories so I'm just posting ones I've already done again👍

<?>Chapter II

[Part two of the Obsessed With You Riddler x Cop! Reader Series]

[Notes; This is in Edwards POV and takes place the same as the last chapter, but obviously pov's changed y'know?]

[Warnings; None.]

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter>

<?>Edward's Pov<?>

I enter the small diner and sit in the chair I'm normally sitting in.

"Good evening Edward, just your regular today I'm assuming?"

"Yes Agnes, thank you," I say as she nods and tiredly walks to the back. I had gone to this place so often that I had just become a regular.

I begin writing and drawing sketches into my journal, thinking of new contraptions I can use and how useful they'll be. I was currently planning this for Colson.

"Your pumpkin pie, and your coffee." Agnes sets down the pie and coffee right in front of me, I thank her and quickly go back to my journal.

Agnes stops in her tracks and turns towards me.

"Um Edward, I don't mean to be a bother but what are you writing in that notebook? Every day that you come here your always writing in that dammed thing."

"Just some random stuff, helps keep me distracted that's all," I reply.

"Seems interesting, you'll have to show me sometime, I'm intrigued." Agnes turns and walks away to go and clean a table.

*Ding*

I hear the cafe door ring and a person with a GCPD coat on sits a seat away from me, they place a book on the table with a light thud.

'Surely they're not here for me' I think, eyes glued to my journal trying to shake off the anxiety.

I hear Agnes take their order and mention the free coffee that cops get, I glance at them and notice a confused look on their face

"Cops get free coffee if your wondering. Have you never gone to a Cafe and gotten a free coffee?" I say, my eyes still focused on my journal.

"Pardon?" The person says, confusion still evident in their voice.

Jeez, are they stupid?

"You are with GCPD right? I mean unless you stole that jacket from someone." I say, touching the patch on the coat that read the letters GCPD on it.

"Oh. Uh, sorry that's quite embarrassing. I guess I forgot to take it off after shift." They say shifting in their seat, their face flushed from embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it, tends to happen to someone when they're tired. Speaking of which, you look as if you haven't slept in a few days. Case got you staying up?" I say, going back to writing in my journal.

"Oh yeah definitely. That riddler guy is making me overwork myself, I haven't been getting much sleep at all."

'Shit maybe they are here for me. How would they know who I was?'

"Oh, I know how that feels. I used to work in forensics so I know just how hard some cases can be. You see things that'll keep you up for days sometimes."

It then goes quiet, maybe they weren't here for me after all.

I close my journal, finish my coffee and pumpkin pie and place the amount of money needed and a tip on the counter before leaving the small diner to head back to my apartment.

As I walk towards my apartment I can't help but think if I had seen the person that was sitting next to me during my time in forensics.

They didn't seem as stupid as a rookie so they must've had some experience other than just the police academy but he didn't pay much attention to them other than having a small conversation.

L/n he remembers the name patch on the coat.

Maybe... Just maybe, he might've known them at some point during his time at the GCPD, or maybe it went back further to back at the orphanage...

I didn't bother at all to try and possibly rewrite or fix any of the writing in it so it's just year old writing that is just absolutely horrid.

[harrowharks-iliac-crest]

8

Let's start the next chapter then, I think tomorrow might be one of those days where I don't get to liveblog much (or at all).

Another flashback, to Canaan house, with Ortus.

The skull shows 4. (Chapter 7 showed 6. I reckon, then, it's not related much to the people we see in each chapter, but rather - which type of body magic we will get to see? Or something? I don't have enough data yet to draw up a pattern, unless I wanna go back and catalogue skulls and chapters for GtN.)

(I'm still not ruling that out. For now, we're sticking with Harrow.)

dropping big handfuls of something green and white for people to gingerly crush beneath their feet as they walked under the cracked marble arches of the First House dock. She had realised with a thrill of frugal, exotic horror that it was plant matter.

Right, yeah, you won't see much of that in the dark mining shaft that is the Ninth.

Gideon never mentioned the skeletons in Canaan house being dressed, not that I recall.

“Pray only that my bones be one day interred in the Anastasian monument, where even the ghost of the light does not go,” said Ortus, in front of everybody, like an absolute shit.

Cross-ref time to Gideon:

(Oh, actually the skeletons here are also clothed. Gideon just didn't dwell on it like Harrow did.)

Harrow began: “I pray the tomb is shut forever. I pray the rock is never rolled away…”

Interesting - in Gideon, Harrow says the prayer; in Harrow, Ortus did. Harrow, in Gideon, does not receive a blessing. Ortus does.

Oh, this next bit is different too.

In Gideon the Ninth:

“I will not tell you what you already know,” said the little priest. “I seek only to add context. The Lyctors were not born immortal. They were given eternal life, which is not at all the same thing. Sixteen of them came here a myriad ago, eight adepts and the eight who would later be known as the first cavaliers, and it was here that they ascended...

In Harrow the Ninth:

“Now I will tell you something new, something you are not meant to know: about the First House, and about the research facility. “The base of Canaan House dates back to before the Resurrection. We first built upward, to get away from the sea; then we built outward, to strive toward beauty … This was meant to be the palace of the Kindly Master, where he might work and hold court and live for always, and oversee all the rebuilding that had to be done. For the Resurrection did not resurrect every broken thing, you understand, and nor did it create anything new. There was hard work ahead—fixing, or designing, and it took a great deal of blood and sweat and bone. Yet those were lovely years, happy ones. And that was the time before Lyctors.”

I won't bother copying all of both texts, but they are markedly different. Both are very different pieces of exposition.

This is fascinating.

Someone spoke up—the Fifth woman—and she said, fearlessly and amiably: “Then the path to Lyctorhood is independent research? Gosh! And it isn’t even my birthday.” One of the young people sitting close to the Fifth made a sound like an exhausted balloon squeal.

Oh how I've missed Magnus, Abigail, and the wretched teens. <3

Wow, no, seriously though - this is a completely different scene. A completely different atmosphere. Where in Gideon, Teacher seems jolly, hopeful and kinda clueless - in Harrow, Teacher is warning them of their imminent deaths at the hand of an immortal entity, which sleeps, but can be woken if you are too loud, and can't come up above the laboratories - unless it can, in which case well, guess we're all gonna die.

I canNOT get over how different this feels.

“Harrowhark—I don’t understand why you chose me.” Harrow said, “There was nobody else.” His mask slipped, and not the mask made of alabaster and black paint. Ortus looked at her with his steady dark gaze, and his heavy face flickered; she realised with electrified astonishment that he was exasperated. “You never did possess an imagination,” he said,

This is some kind of clue, I'm sure of it. Does Gideon exist to this Ortus? I almost hope so.

[amtrak12]

I'm going to do this ask meme that no one asked me for because I printed and filed about 100 CAD drawings today in the physical office building!!! so you can't stop me :P (Also we used to do this all the time back on LiveJournal without anyone asking first. It's called INFLICTING MY FAVORITES ONTO MY FRIENDS LIST 😆 and I'm bringing it back!)

Lucifer Ask Meme

Favorite Male Character:

🚨Error 404🚨 favorite not found -- but I suppose Lucifer by default??? Although, I have a big ol' soft spot for Amenadiel too. I named my second Chromecast after him 🥰 lol

Favorite Female Character:

EVE who should've been in far more episodes than she was. 😡 Who do I sue for that?

Least Favorite Character:

We're going main cast only here, because villains were never in the running. I'm gonna say.... Dan -- BUT I DON'T HATE HIM like I did during my initial watch! It's important to me that you know that! In fact, by this point, I genuinely love him.... I just love him the least out of everyone lol

(Although, if you go by who I want to explore in fic the least, I'd probably say Ella. Because I will happily write Dan/Dan related fic any day of the week. He has too much juicy stuff to explore in each of his relationships with Chloe, Trixie, and Charlotte.) (... yes, I know I haven't written any fic for him yet. But I would!!!)

Prettiest Character:

EVE! My answer is always Eve

My bb 🥰🥰🥰 ignore my unskilled photoshopping pls

Funniest Character:

Trixie 😂 Or do I have to pick an adult character? Because then I'll say Charlotte Richards because Tricia Helfer being a snarky asshole is always hilarious. Also she's prettier than Lucifer and I won't apologize for saying it 😜

Favorite Season:

SEASON TWO! The one where Chloe and Lucifer fell in love 😍😍😍 Unless you put season 4 in front of my face, in which case my favorite is season 4 because EVE (and also the God tier -- pun intended -- soap drama in the S4 plots. It's good shit XD)

(No I'm 100% serious, Chloe nearly poisoned Lucifer with the aim to perma-ban him to Hell!!! I don't understand why everyone is so mad about it still???? That's a true romance story to me. 😍 The epitome of the Third Act's Darkest Hour if I ever saw one LOLOLOL)

Favorite Episode:

2.13 A Good Day to Die -- that Unsteady scored montage tho!!!!! *swoons* (Yes, I put a YouTube link to watch it. No, I don't care if you've never seen the show before. It's good shit!!!!!) (probably not as good out of context, but again DON'T CARE! 🥰)

Favorite Romantic Ship:

Deckerstar (Lucifer/Chloe). Obviously, yes, Maze/Eve are prettier

Like even their (entirely unedited bc I'm lazy) silhouettes are prettier. I UNDERSTAND THE FACTS, YOU GUYS! However, Lucifer/Chloe are messier, and as a fic writer, I'm going to give the edge to messy. 👍

Favorite Family Ship:

Trixie with her parents (Chloe and Dan) T_T LOOK! The parent/child relationships are a big reason this show managed to sink its hooks into me. (Well... that and the S3 finale wing scene 👀 oops)

(Bonus category, my LEAST favorite family ship: God with each and every one of his children ROTFL 😆 Terrible father. Maybe an okay god idk! But a garbage father. 👎)

Favorite Friendship:

Maze & Linda! (But Maze & Chloe desperately needed to be explored more in later seasons. It's so RUDE how the writers basically dropped them after Maze moved out. Also there's a TOOOOOON of untapped potential in a Chloe-Eve friendship, I'm just saying 👀👀👀)

Worst Ship:

CHLOE/CAIN! 🤮🤮🤮 Obviously they post-date the term by a lot, but this is exactly the kind of ship the word 'squick' was coined for *shudders*

And because I can't leave this on such an icky note....

Funniest Unspoken Joke in the Entire Show:

Charlotte wearing a shirt with Chloe's face on it while Dan gives her the big 'all in' relationship speech. NO ONE POINTS IT OUT IN ANY WAY! But I am fucking dying. 🤣🤣🤣 It's impossible to convey why this is so funny to those of you who haven't seen the show, but here's a Powerpoint slide to try. (click to enlarge, alt text available)

@ Whoever wrote/staged this scene: I'm kissing you on the mouth. 12/10 no notes. 🤣👍👍

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Forgotten Ties - Chapter 9 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Nim spent the entire day at school distracted by thoughts of Skye, which was both weird and annoying.

Skye was just so hard to figure out, every time Nim thought he had a handle on him, Skye would throw something new at him, leaving Nim puzzled all over again.

After school, he walked through the front door, planning to sit down and have a long chat with Skye but Joanne stopped him before he could get to their room.

The worried look on her face told him something was wrong.

"Skye's missing," she said.

"Missing?" Nim repeated. "What does that mean?"

"It means we went to check on him when he didn't come for lunch and we couldn't find him. We're not sure how long he's been gone. I looked around the neighbourhood and asked some people but no one's seen him."

"Shit," Nim murmured.

"Don't worry, I'm sure he's okay," Joanne said quickly.

"Maybe school was just too much for him. Could you help look for him? I know you can't go around the neighbourhood as a wolf but your sense of smell should still be useful in this form, right?"

"Yeah, maybe," Nim answered. "I've never tried tracking someone before but I'll give it a go."

The whole house carried Skye's scent but as soon as Nim stepped outside, the smell became more difficult to trace.

Even if his sense of smell was decent in this form, he couldn't exactly put his nose to the ground and sniff around without drawing unwanted attention.

He went to the park not because he could track Skye there but because it was the only nearby place they'd ever been together.

It took a few loops around, attempting to discreetly sniff trees in case Skye had climbed them, before Nim discovered a picnic table that definitely held Skye's scent.

He'd eaten tuna there.

At least that chased away any fears of unlikely scenarios in which Skye had been kidnapped from their home but Nim didn't really know where to go from there.

He wandered the neighbourhood, searching and sniffing the air, hoping to find something.

Had Skye decided he'd had enough of them?

Had he just... left?

Surely he'd at least say goodbye.

Surely Nim deserved that much.

But it was Skye, after all and he didn't always do what might be expected of him.

For hours, Nim's search proved fruitless and then, when it got dark, he looped back to the park.

He sat at the picnic table that smelled of Skye while he waited for the last straggling dog walker to leave, then he stripped, hid his clothes under the table and shifted.

In this form, with his nose to the ground, it was much easier to catch traces of Skye's scent.

He soon found the direction Skye had headed in when leaving the park.

For a while, it seemed like Skye had meandered up and down streets just like Nim had been doing for the last few hours but then Nim traced his path down a long road and he finally lifted his head as he caught a hint of Skye's scent in the air.

In front of him stood a construction site for an apartment block.

Nim shifted and jumped the fence.

Once he was on the other side, he sniffed the air and lifted his head to follow the scent.

It was too dark to see much but Skye was definitely here.

Skye's scent was all over the scaffolding but Nim wasn't about to climb that unless he absolutely had to.

He couldn't survive a fall like Skye could.

He headed inside the barebones building and found that the interior stairs had already been built.

He headed up.

A few floors up, scrunched up on the stairs, he found a pair of workers' pants covered in dried paint and put them on.

They weren't long enough for his legs but whoever their original owner had been must have been large in other ways because they fit around his waist.

He continued up the stairs.

Nim had no trouble smelling Skye now.

He was definitely on this floor.

He still smelled of tuna a little bit.

Nim followed the scent until he spotted Skye sitting on an open edge of the building, silhouetted by moonlight, his legs dangling into empty air.

"Skye," Nim said again.

When there was no response, he reached out and gave Skye's shoulder a gentle shake.

"Skye."

Skye startled and his head snapped towards Nim, his eyes locking on Nim's face.

There was an emptiness to them, like that first day they'd met.

Nim squeezed his hand down on Skye's shoulder.

"You still in there? Come on. It's Nim, remember?"

Skye blinked a few times, his brow tensed, and then intelligence rushed back into his eyes.

There was recognition in them when he looked at Nim now.

Skye lifted a hand and pressed it against the side of his head.

"Shit."

Nim's hand was still on Skye's shoulder.

"You okay?"

Skye nodded.

"I'd started to drift away."

"That thing you do where you sleepwalk through life?"

"Hmm," Skye said. "I didn't mean to."

"It happens that fast? Just a few hours alone, and you're gone?"

"Not normally. I've been on my own for days before and I've been fine. But if I'm stressed... yeah, sometimes. I just wanted to be alone and I thought it would be okay. I don't want to leave."

Nim dropped his hand from Skye's shoulder.

"Well, I found you. You're back now. Are you ready to go home?"

"Can we just sit for a little while? Together?"

"Sure."

Skye leant in against Nim and then turned his head to press a soft kiss against Nim's shoulder.

"Thank you for coming to find me."

"Yeah, of course," Nim said as warmth flooded his belly.

Skye had said things that were a little questionable in the past but Nim had never really read any meaning into them.

This, though, this moment, this atmosphere.

This felt like something.

Nim leant down and pressed a kiss against Skye's cheek.

Skye turned and looked at him with his big, green eyes and for a moment Nim thought Skye was about to ask him what he was doing, about to call him weird but then Skye gave a single nod.

"Good."

Skye nodded again as he settled back in against Nim's side.

"As it should be."

"Yeah, well, maybe. The more I have, the more they can take away from me. They already took my mum. I was trying not to get attached to anyone but here we are."

"If you don't let yourself have things in case the humans take them away, haven't you already let them take them from you?"

Nim found himself smiling.

"When did you get so wise?"

"I can be wise. I've been around a long time, you know."

"So you keep saying."

"Because it's true."

"I believe you. And... yeah. Maybe you're right."

"I am sometimes," Skye said, kicking his legs in the empty air.

"I've lost a lot too, you know. My whole life is just losing things. I don't want to lose you but I might. It might not even be anyone's fault. It's just the way that I am. It could have happened tonight."

"Well, if that happens, I'll just have to come and find you again."

"Yeah. You're a wolf. You can find people, so I can't go missing."

"Yeah."

Nim wrapped his arm around Skye and pulled him in closer against his side.

"We'll be all right."