#BUT I AM SO GLAD YOU ARE ALLOWING ME TO HAVE THIS OPPORTUNITY TO EXPLAIN MOST OF THE SETTING
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yomo my friend yomo haaiiii hihi so like. im never really sure where t start w asking setting questions so im placing this down as a free pass for u specifically to talk abt whatever u want about your funny guys :] tell me your favorite bit or concept! or a character you really wanna get to but Havent Yet! or little fun facts! maybe all of the above if youre feeling spicy 👀 free pass to infodump, go crazy!! o7
EHEHAHSHEHEHRHEHAHRGWKRHWKEH THAMK YOU. THAMK YOU SO MUCH I AM ABOUT TO EXPLAIN MOST OF THE SETTING AND THE MECHANICS BEFORE I EXPLAIN ABOUT THE LITTLE GUYS AS BRIEFLY AS POSSIBLE AND IF YOU HAVE ANY FURTHER QUESTIONS, LET ME KNOW AND I WILL. GLADLY ELABORATE ON THEM MORE :33 (big rant below the cut) (ALSO WARNING THERE ARE LIKE. MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND STUFF. IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE BY THAT I AM SORRY)
So if we are are talking about the setting- It is more a fantasy world set back in 800s to further into the 2000s (not like our world 's history but i can't name any of the fantasy locations on Earth itself as i am not focusing on that so expect pretty much the exact same country names). And the focus is actually on the Afterlife itself, and how it works, what worlds exist out there and etc etc. The original timeline crew (Yaku, Amor, Apollo and others) are all from the world of "Ortu Lunae" (Translator's note: It is Latin for "Rising moon"), the world that is supposed to be what mortal people would perceive as Hell. Aside from Ortu Lunae, an another world exists that is supposed to represent Heaven, called "Descensu Solis" (Translator's note: It is Latin for "The Descent of the Sun"), and the other third world being "Cruix", a forgotten third thing. Both Ortu Lunae and Descensu Solis have their own perspective god - Ortu Lunae having Achlys, the Moon God and Descensu Solis having Nahara, the Sun Goddess (Which is why the worlds are named after the sun and the moon). There is something else that is not a world, which is the Outskirts. Outskirts are unclaimed, unexplored and unstable lands, that are able to heavily affect the mental state and sanity on everyone who steps into them unprepared.
The worlds exist because the humanity still believes in their existence, and the people still keep the concept of their worlds "alive", but unfortunately Cruix was more of humanity's first "prototype" for what lies beyond death and with the existence of the two other worlds representing Heaven and Hell, Cruix had no more believers. Therefore Cruix had no reason nor right to keep on living, so it is only a forgotten land below everyone else (with none of its residents making it out of its borders)
To be quick, the company the crew work at is responsible for most safety of the entirety of Ortu Lunae, hence why they are "Warriors" and are "Company's most valuable employees". They are fighting and working for their own existence, for the existence of everyone in the Afterlife and their right to keep on walking on the ground, despite never being let outside back on Earth by will, even with their new physical bodies. Amor and Apollo even became the creators and the founders of the laboratory branch of the company to utilize science to create technology and innovations for the company, creating bionic gear and etc, being originally mostly the lead scientists and not all that much of fighters. All of this work the warriors do is why the company itself worked on how to make them "immortal" as to keep their employees to keep protecting the world. And that is where God's Blessings and "Sanguis Vitae" come in
Quick explanation of the two: God's Blessings are specialized powers, usually having origins from an element or something specific (Example: Thunder and Lighting for Yaku, Void for Amor, Time for Yi Dal/Ken and Kenix and etc) that are granted to the warriors by Achlys himself. There is an equivalent of that made by Nahara, where she lends her powers of the Sun and the Light to her soldiers, but the main difference is that it is but fraction of her powers and therefore her element, so every of her soldiers is pretty much set with the same skills, only differences being how they utilize the powers with their own weapons.
While "Sanguis Vitae" is an unknown liquid that is a back-up for God's Blessings, as it is the most essential part for preparing the warriors. It is an incredibly toxic and acidic magical replacement for the insides of the warriors. It is everything - for blood and organs that make the human bodies a functional thing, the skeleton and pretty much everything on the inside. It is also a massive to the warriors' starter strength as to help them get on the level of their comrades faster, and it also eliminates the basic human requirements for living. Which is eating, drinking, the hygiene needs, breathing and ,,,, only technically sleep but they still pretty much sleeping from time to time (Not Apollo anymore though, but that's for when i get to his character). As Sanguis Vitae replaces everything in their bodies, it also replicates some of the functions and fluids our bodies make (and by that i mean saliva for example, because i cannot imagine living with a dry mouth for all eternity, i am not that cruel to them)
Last thing would the Curses that i have mentioned when last talking about Kenix! Curses come from Cursed relics, that have originated from the Alternate timeline, and they oppose God's Blessings. Cursed relics and curses have originated exactly from AT (abbreviation for Alternate timeline, as to make it easier for me to write all of this) and they don't have an exact origin, all that is known is that the Cursed Relics are either manifested into being by twisting one's wish into something more of "an unachievable desire" that exactly requires the help from the above to get while tricking them into committing sins, or they are manifested into being after the death of one who has been cursed - someone's history of despair and sorrow being shaped into a physical object as their "legacy", that could resonate with someone once they are physically weak enough to have their own wish be twisted into something more disturbing and force them to turn into something strange and horrific while scarring their mind if they do break free. Originally the curses were opposing to the blessings because they had the same concept in theory, but the main difference is tha the curses not only grant the powers to the user, they exactly twist the user as a person, they are denied remorse for their actions and are constantly forced to look out for more violent and cruel ways to achieve what they wanted originally, while also depleting their sanity to the point of no longer having any control over their actions, turning into all sorts of monsters. There are 7 (known for now) cursed relics based on the Seven Deadly Sins and they all belong to the AT crew that consists of Kenix (Lust, but not THAT kind of lust because there are specific interpretations for each of the character), Azrael (Envy), Maude (Wrath), Aridam (Pride), Liliosa (Gluttony), Artemis (Sloth) and Agatha (Greed). Since all the timelines exist within this one universe, the curses and the cursed relics seep into the OG timeline right into the Outskirts where new relics are created into being with the the lost people who have lost their sanity and dying, leaving behind cursed relics made out of their desperation and madness.
Holyshit how did i write the concept of the Curses and the Cursed Relics before knowing about the Abnormalities, E.G.Os and Distortions from the projmoon universe HELPP. Also quick note that the cursed relics and the curses play a big part in the story as they are. a huge part of each of the character's Peak Insanity chapter, which a story chapter focused on them where they resonate with an existing relic that basically fucks them over for the rest of the narrative and they learn how to deal with it and how to heal from their trauma (ALTHOUGH INSPIRATION'S AND ARAI'S PEAK INSANITY CHAPTERS REALLY FUCK BOTH AMOR AND APOLLO UP FOR LIKE. A LONG ASS TIME BEFORE THEY REACH THEIR PI CHAPTERS TO FINALLY HAVE A RESOLVE TO THEIR PROBLEMS)
I think this might be everything for now, but the again, it is the shortened version of the lore so if you want to find out all the details (Like how the worlds' societies live, more about the curses and the cursed relics, specific stuff about the blessings for the crew and etc), you can freely send an ask or ask more questions anywhere else as i am free to answer them i enjoy answering them so much :33 i am. very normal about my ocs and their lore they definitely did not cause a 2+ years long brainrot for me
#YEA THIS IS A LONG. LONG POST#BUT I AM SO GLAD YOU ARE ALLOWING ME TO HAVE THIS OPPORTUNITY TO EXPLAIN MOST OF THE SETTING#yomo ocs?!#yomoposting#ocs#oc rant
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Characters study?
Since I play as Gale, I wanted to look at relationships from his side and from my own, since I think that Gale and I have very similar beliefs regarding relationships.
Don't get me wrong, I love Halsin,
he's an incredibly kind and caring teddy bear, but being in a relationship with him is not for everyone. And there are moments in the conversation with him that were very unpleasant for me. But I’m glad that he warned me in advance how he perceives a relationship with someone.
Yes, there are many people who are into polyamorous relationships, but I don’t think Gale is one of them, despite the opportunity to sleep with Halsin even when playing as Gale (I think that in this case some lines should not be available at all as it was with the Dark Urge, when you cannot resist your nature, even when playing a good character).
Now I will explain why.
Halsin honestly admits that monogamy is not for him. He considers us someone special, in fact, declares his love, but immediately says that we are not that special at all and he, even having entered into a relationship with us, will still be free to sleep with other people.
His words are not a lie, but they seem to contradict each other.
That is... there are more people who want to be something special, who want exclusivity from those they are dating than those who would prefer polyamory, I believe. In the case of Halsin, you will simply be just one of his huge number of lovers, and, perhaps, in another couple of decades, he will say those words about love and specialness to someone else, as he spoke to us. It's not mine cup of tea, to be honest. I am a selfish person, and I would like to be special for someone I love. And I really didn’t like that Halsin, without even knowing whether such a relationship suits me, says he hopes to sleep with the person I am dating too. This remark made me understand that although Halsin is still my type of men in appearance and character, he absolutely does not fit into my understanding of relationships, love and specialness. Let me remind you, I play Gale's origin and I am sure that Gale would also refuse and be disappointed.
Just like Astarion. And I will now explain why.
Literally Gale's entire problem and trauma is based on the fact that he wants to be loved,
he wants to be cared for, seen, considered special (which in the case of Halsin will be impossible), he wants to be visible and significant. I know that playing his origin you are still able to choose any lines but... if you play Tav and romance him, Gale does not agree to share his love with someone else and does not agree to be shared too. I believe that Gail is monogamous, and not just monogamous, but he won't allow the thought that his loved one could be with someone else or that he himself could be with someone else while already being in a relationship. Such people rarely fall in love, they are like the wolves Halsin spoke about, who choose a lover for the rest of their lives. And no, I don’t think Mystra was such a lover. I'm sure Gale wants in a relationship not so much exclusivity, but to have something of his own. Something that no one can take away from him. Someone only his.
The same story with Astarion.
He hasn’t had anything of his own for 200 years, and despite his mannerisms and flirting with everyone, he also wants to have something of his own, something that no one will take away from him, and something that will belong to him and to no one else. He is also desperately looking for someone who will be his. Only his. Yes, he agrees to a threesome, he agrees to share his lover with Halsin, but he clearly does not want this and agrees only because he is afraid of losing his love. He refuses to have sex with the drow twins, and if you agree, he will most likely end the romance with you. He is very afraid of not satisfying his lover; he wants to be desired and loved. He and Gale are very much alike when it comes to the relationship, although their reactions are different. Both want exclusivity. One speaks about it directly, the second one shouts about it with his behavior and body language.
I think that's why I love the ship so much.
They both want the same thing, they just express their desires differently.
#bg3 halsin#halsin#bg3#bg3 gale#bg3 astarion#gale of waterdeep#gale dekarios#astarion ancunin#astarion x gale#bloodweave#baldur's gate 3#astarion
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Care and Connection* | TEASER
Summary: Y/N has been babysitting Harry's daughter for a couple of months now and the two of them grew rather fond of each other. Harry can't help but swoon when he comes home to find his daughter wrapped up in Y/N's arms, both asleep on the sofa.
Pairing: Singledad!Harry x reader
Word count: 2.8K TEASER of a 9K Patreon Exclusive!
Warnings: Smut, lots of love and care, cutest girl ever, oh right back to the smut: protected sex, oral both f and m receiving, swallowing (iykyk), taboo relationship(?).
Taglist: @justmystyles @bitchybabyharry @harrysslut7 @swiftmendeshoran @lucasandharold @harrysbabycherry @htaylor18 @rose-garden-dreamz @myalovesharry @mellamolayla @hsonlyangelxo @yousunshineyoutempter @heartateasee @blueheisenbergtragedy @bikestyles @bohemianrhapsody86
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Four months into getting her master's degree, Y/N stumbled upon a babysitting gig for a wealthy single dad. Harry Styles promised the opportunity of a lifetime. After graduating she could use him as a reference and would even have a chance to be head of her own department in his corporation. All she had to do was keep his kid alive and act like their best friend. This shouldn't be too difficult.
Her boss was nothing like she had expected. Y/N loved children and had babysat through her undergrad years so Harry was definitely on board with the resume she put in. What he didn't count on was the temptation the beautiful girl brought with her. His three-year-old daughter adores her and seeing his daughter so happy made him weak as well. But Y/N too wasn't prepared for the tension that'd soon build between the two of them.
Y/N's schedule is perfect for her job, she takes three classes a week at the university which are all morning classes leaving her plenty of time to watch Grace in the afternoon so Harry can go to the office. Being the CEO allows him to work from home and they agreed upon the three mornings, as long as she's finished by 1 PM. Her master's requires a lot of self-study but Harry promised her the use of his office, whenever she needed it.
After finishing her classes, Y/N steps in her car and drives to the Styles residence. She clicks the button of the remote control so the gate to Harry's property opens. Whenever Y/N wonders how her boss can afford such a beautiful home, she reminds herself that she really shouldn't pry too much into people's personal lives. She shakes the question away every time because truthfully she doesn't want to know.
“Y/N!” Grace shouts excitedly when the front door opens. Her little feet slide against the wooden flooring, while the small girl is making her way over to her.
“Hi, Gracie.” She smiles brightly, crouching down so she can wrap her arms around her. “You can actually run a marathon now.” She pokes her tongue out.
“Daddy said I hafta put on my shoes first.” The small girl points at her bare feet. “Then you can race.”
“Daddy is smart, you'd be way faster with your shoes on!” Y/N agrees. Grace's favourite activity is definitely running. Ever since the day she found out how fast her legs could carry her, there was no going back.
“Y/N, I am so glad you're here.” Harry walks into the entrance and the Y/N can't help but bite her lip. He wears a tight black turtleneck sweater, showing off his chest and when he turns to close the door, his trousers fit very nicely. Y/N shakes her head, chastising herself for once again admiring the beauty that is her boss. “You are early.”
Y/N gets up, looking at her wristwatch. “By two minutes.” She can feel the blush creeping up her cheeks because even though they've been doing this babysitting gig for a couple of months, she is still caught off guard when they talk. “My professor ended his lecture earlier than expected.” She explains.
“I should reward your punctuality.” He smirks mischievously. If she hadn't fallen in love with his daughter first, it would've probably been him.
Grace slides into her purple Converse shoes and looks up at the pair while attempting to tie her shoes.
“Come here baby.” Y/N reaches a hand out. “Let me help you.” She watches as the girl makes her way to her with a bright smile. She's definitely taken after Harry. Her brown hair covers a good part of her back when it's down, which always has Harry insisting that she does a half ponytail. Her small chubby hands roam around with any and everything making it all the more impossible to grasp properly. But if there's one thing Y/N has learned in these last couple of months it's that it doesn't take a lot of effort for Grace to grasp hold of someone's heart. Y/N finishes tying her shoe before wrapping the little girl's hair into a ponytail, using the band on her wrist to secure it into place and picking up the toddler.
“Is it a race?” Grace asks curiously.
“I was thinking that we can make french toast.” Y/N suggests, laughing at herself as she proposes something completely different from what Grace insists on.
“French toast?” Grace scrunches her nose up in disapproval.
“Yes, Grace!” She exclaims. “We need to eat first.”
Harry watches their interaction and doesn't even attempt to hide the amusement that crosses his features.
“Ok.” The three-year-old girl answers. “I guess.”
“It's only until lunch.” Y/N reminds her. “Then afterwards we can go running. You and me?” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“Daddy's not gonna come?” Grace mumbles a soft pout on her face.
“I have to work, baby.” Harry reminds his daughter. “Y/N will watch you today while I am at work. She is gonna make sure you eat and sleep and she'll play with you until you tire her out.” He smiles. “Just like every other Thursday.” He wraps his right arm around Y/N's waist, leaning in so he can kiss the top of his daughter's head. “Now be nice.”
“I don't want to sleep, daddy.” Grace frowns, the disappointment and resistance clear on her face.
“Later.” He smiles. “Daddy is late.”
“Did you eat?” Y/N looks at him. “I can make you lunch too.” She offers.
“I already ate, don't worry.” He chuckles. “Besides I know it's not in your job description to care for me.” Harry smirks.
“But if your baby doesn't get the proper attention and you're too weak from starvation, I will be liable.” Y/N offers nonchalantly and feels her cheeks warm when his gaze meets hers.
“Can I go jump on the bed?” Grace interrupts them.
“Absolutely not!” They both scold in unison before turning their heads to stare at the other. Harry chuckles as he sends her a wink.
“I'm going to go now. Be good.” He says looking at Grace. “You too, Y/N.” He winks at her.
“I am always on my best behaviour, Mr. Styles.” She teases.
“I know.” He hums satisfied. “That's the problem.”
***
Y/N walks out of Harry's office, making sure to quietly close the door behind her. Grace peacefully fell asleep after running for thirty minutes straight in the backyard and Y/N took the opportunity to use Harry's home office to study for her classes. She just found out she had an exam on Monday and it was way too close for her comfort.
When Grace wakes up from her nap, Y/N gets her changed and ready for the rest of their afternoon together. Y/N keeps busy to get through Grace's demanding behaviour, so she figures some baking will be a good activity. She's wearing Harry's apron, her hair has come undone with all the frustration she has with measuring the dry ingredients but honestly, she couldn't care less about anything else. She's covered in flower and possibly milk but she prides herself on the fact that the smell of banana bread has taken over the house.
“Grace?” She calls but receives no answer. “Grace!” She calls again, a bit louder this time but still nothing. Where is she? Y/N steps out of the kitchen and into the living room where she finds the little girl laying down on the sofa. “Are you hungry?”
“Mmhm.” Grace shakes her head.
“No? Are you sleepy, love?” Y/N sits down next to the toddler and runs her hand over her back.
“My tummy hurts.” Grace frowns, holding her stomach.
“It hurts?” She frowns, pressing her hand down against Grace's belly and rubbing circles on it with her thumb. “Come here.” Y/N gently lifts Grace onto her lap. “Where does it hurt, baby?”
Grace pulls a pout on her face, her eyes looking at Y/N for a second before pressing her lips into a thin line. She pushes her cheek against the babysitter's chest and points to her stomach.
“Is it a big hurt?” Y/N feels worried for the child. She doesn't want Grace to be in pain and what's worse is that it's the first time something like this happens. “Gracie?” She whispers, and the little girl merely nods her head.
“Oh, come here baby.” Y/N coos and lays down with Grace in her arms. She covers them with the blanket from the back of the sofa, keeping them warm.
Grace settles between the crevice of her neck and chest, clinging to Y/N as her fingers softly graze the nape of her neck. Her fingers twirl a strand of Y/N's hair around them while the thumb of her free hand is caught between her lips.
Y/N curls her hands over Grace's head as she begins humming a tune for the little girl. She closes her eyes, allowing the smooth melody to come out and waits patiently for the girl to fall asleep. It doesn't take much longer for Grace to relax and after one more round, Y/N is certain the toddler has succumbed to her dreams. She lays with the little girl, not wanting to wake her up and keeps humming and soothingly patting her back.
Eventually, she opens her eyes as she feels a soft pressure on top of her head and sees Harry standing there caressing her hair, quietly staring back at her. How long has he been standing there?
“You fell asleep.” He whispers, his voice full of amusement.
“How did your meeting go?” Y/N keeps her voice at a low level as not to startle her little sleeper.
“You had a tough day, sweetheart?” He asks, sitting down on the other sofa in front of them. His dimpled smile breaks out as she nods her head at him. Harry is genuinely touched at seeing the closeness between his girl and the woman who has brought so much happiness to his family.
Y/N turns her head, nuzzling her nose against Grace's hair and taking a deep breath. The little girl moves to press a leg between her knees and pushes her feet against her thigh, feeling the warm embrace.
“When did this happen?” He motions to Grace.
“She said her tummy hurt.” Y/N explains. “I thought we could keep snuggling a bit. Besides if I laid her down she'll probably wake up.”
“A wise decision.” He assures her, letting his head rest on his palm.
Y/N smiles for a moment before her eyes fall to his lap. “How was your meeting?” She asks.
“Exhausting.” Harry sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Kept thinking about my girls at home.” He looks at her and she bites her bottom lip trying to hide her shy smile. She loves how he said girls, as in plural.
They stare at each other a bit longer, neither one wanting to break their eye contact, in a sense begging the other to be the first. Grace lets out a small cough, startling Y/N into looking away. She turns to see the small girl's forehead all bunched up.
“It's ok, honey.” She whispers, pressing a small kiss to her temple. She begins her lullaby again and it doesn't take long for Grace to settle into a deep sleep.
“So beautiful.” He hums after a while, looking at the way Grace falls at ease in Y/N's arms. “Let's put her to bed so we can have dinner.” Harry offers and takes the small child in his arms and carries her up the stairs.
Y/N stays behind and cleans up the mess they made in the kitchen, thankful that she let the food she planned on cooking for dinner stay in the fridge. She glances up as she sees Harry strolling down the staircase. His long legs carry him forward in a few strides and she rolls her eyes at herself for finding such a stupid activity exciting.
“Is she asleep?” Y/N asks.
“Mmhm.” Harry stretches his arms above his head and Y/N catches a sliver of skin beneath his sweater. It only lasts a moment but it's enough for Y/N to release the breath she didn't realise she was holding in.
Harry lowers his arms and reaches the kitchen, taking a seat on a stool on the other side of the counter. He had his hands pressed on top of it as his eyes look down. After a small sigh, he looks up at Y/N.
“I was thinking-” He pauses. “-me and you, we should talk.” He keeps his hands pressed on the cold marble, balling them into fists at the fear of her rejection.
Y/N's face shows an expression of worry. “Oh no, was I not meeting the needed requirements of my job?” She questions, folding the dish towel on her shoulder. “I've tried to give as much love and care to Grace as possible. I promise that I will not abandon her or neglect her or her well-being.”
Harry smiles lovingly at her. “You are amazing with her.” He remarks, leaning his elbows on the counter. “But that's not what I was talking about.”
“It's not?” Y/N pouts, now very confused about what he really wants to say.
“This babysitting thing, Y/N.” Harry begins. “We both know that this is more than that.” He waits for her reaction.
“Ok..” She drags out the 'o'. “I mean if you've been-“
“Can you please sit down?” He interjects.
Y/N smiles politely, afraid to show too much of the happiness that has taken over her. Harry can see her hesitancy and can tell she's trying her best to remain calm while she takes her seat next to him. She turns her stool a little bit so she's directly facing him.
Harry stares at her for a moment, taking her in and how natural it seems for them to sit down like this. His fingers reach out, brushing her cheek lightly but pulling his hand back when she frowns. It's too soon. It's inappropriate. But he wants her so much.
“I care for you a lot.” He starts again, with a newfound confidence and strength. “I think it's more than just Grace at this point. You have become a part of my family in such a short amount of time. You've shown me the joy of welcoming another human in my home and offering them safety and love.”
“I love being here.” Y/N swallows the lump in her throat. “Grace is so perfect and I- I care for her immensely. I would do anything for her.”
“You also happen to be exquisite.” Harry remarks. “Possibly the prettiest woman I have ever laid eyes on.” Y/N ducks her head and he can sense the heat radiating from her skin. “It's not my place to cross any boundaries but I can't deny the chemistry and connection we share. I am so attracted to you.”
She bites her lower lip. This is going all wrong. “But, Harry.”
“Y/N.” He interrupts her. “Let me finish.” He tilts his head to the side.
“I've seen the way you've been looking at me.” Harry reaches out, lifting her chin with his fingers. “It's the same way I look at you when you're not looking back.”
“It's true.” She admits. “I just-” Y/N frowns. “I thought that maybe, and please don't hate me for thinking this, I thought that perhaps I was seeing things that weren't actually there, delusional daydreaming.” She scoffs and Harry licks his lips, a smirk visible.
“Allow me to clear the confusion.” He whispers, running his fingers along her jaw, towards the right side of her neck. “I want you.” He reveals, slightly tilting her head back with a gentle push, so her eyes meet his. “And I will wait until you decide you're ready.”
She tenses up, a hand on her thigh as the other grips at the hem of her blouse. “What if I'm ready now?” Y/N muses.
Harry leans back, pushing himself off the stool and stepping forward as the gap between him and Y/N lessens. “Then I'd say we skip dinner.” He says, his voice a bit deeper and definitely surer than before. Her eyes travel his face, holding the gaze of his bright green eyes for a second longer.
“We definitely should, Mr. Styles.” Y/N decides to call him by his last name as she sees the spark ignite in his eyes. “After all, you are the boss.” She chuckles.
“That's right, love.” He smirks. “I am.” Harry wraps his arms around her, pulling her off the stool and holding her securely against his frame. The younger woman wraps her hands around his neck and her legs around his waist, giving him all the assurance he needs. “God, look at you.” He murmurs before pressing his lips to hers.
#ceo!harry#dadrry#ceorry#ceo#harry styles#allthelovehes#harry#styles#harry smut#fanfic#smut#imagine#one shot#fanfiction#harrystylesfanfiction#harryxreader#harry x reader#harry styles x reader#harry x you#harryxyou#harry x yn#harryxyn#singledad!harry#singledad#babysitter#babysitter!yn#babysitter!reader#writing#hot#patreon exclusive
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Nothing Left For Me, I Am Pleading
summary: The fallout after you learn he's cheated on you. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used.
feat: Vilkas, Miraak, Farkas, Brynjolf, Cicero
warnings: angsty hurt/no comfort. cheating in an established relationship. swearing. reference to sexual acts, nothing explicit.
masterlist
Vilkas' fingers are uncharacteristically chilly when they grab your arm. Your stomach churns at the contact - mere hours had passed since they'd touched someone else.
"Don't go." You see every muscle in his body tense - does he anticipate you lashing out at him? Your anger is far too cold for that, a detached hatred that drowns out any love you've felt for him.
"Give me one good reason to stay." You sniff, glaring up at the man you've loved so deeply that it hurt. Your heart is shredding in your chest but you refuse to show him. After last night, he does not deserve to see you hurt. You will grant him no opportunity to comfort you.
"I thought of you the whole time."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" You seethe, wrenching your arm from his grasp. "How kind of you to remember me while fucking some stranger at the tavern."
"Please." His voice is caught in his throat when he steps closer, hand still reaching uselessly toward you. "I - we just lost Kodlak. He's the closest thing I've ever had to a parent and I felt so fucking lost. I didn't know what to do with myself." His nose wrinkles and you know he's fighting back tears. Strangely, you feel no urge to comfort him - all you want is to escape this damned room.
"I was there." You curse your voice for wobbling. "Farkas was there. Our friends were right there - we were all there grieving Kodlak. Together."
"I know." He mumbles, sucking in a shaky breath. "I should have talked to you - I don't know why I did that. Nothing makes sense."
"You should talk to someone, maybe your brother." You press your lips into a tight line, clamping down the sob tearing at your throat. "I hope you can figure things out, Vilkas."
You do hope that he can figure things out. Grief is messy but when you turn away from him, there's a sense of finality to it. You clench your fists to stop their shaking and before you can take that first step away from Vilkas, his voice stops you dead in your tracks.
"Can we try again someday?" His voice is so defeated, as if he already knows your answer. Why did he bother asking?
"I know that Kodlak meant a lot to you." You squeeze your eyes shut against those damned tears. "But I can never forgive this."
"I understand." Vilkas sniffs and you're glad you turned away. The sight of him crying could break you. "I'll always love you, though."
You can't think of a response that doesn't break your heart.
"It meant nothing, Mal Dov." You smack away Miraak's hand - you know he wants to caress your face, to calm your nerves as he has so many times before. You can hardly think past her fucking voice ringing through your head.
"After that, my hopes of being named High Priestess don't seem so far-fetched. Our lord truly is blessed, isn't he? Well, I suppose you know that better than anyone."
She'd bumped into you like it was a silly little mistake, dragon mask pulled aside to display the messy state of her lipstick. The thought of what she'd done for Miraak - the thought of him with anyone else, it makes you sick.
"Nothing?" You spit the word back at him. You hate that look on his face, the tears gathering in his eyes. He has the audacity to make you feel like the hurtful one.
"In my time, it was quite common to maintain a concubine -"
"Oh, fuck you!" Angry tears spill down your cheeks, that hot ball of rage fueled with every word that passes his lips. "You would burn Tamriel if another man dared to kiss me, yet you expect me to be alright with some priestess getting on her knees for you?"
"My beloved, please allow me to explain." Miraak reaches for you once more, an offer that feels so loaded. You know that if you take his hand he will whisper sweet apologies in your ear and promises that he will spend the rest of his unnatural life with you. He will tell you that a passing moment with a priestess means nothing compared to an eternity at your side.
"No." You reject, gulping past the knot in your throat. Drying your tears you turn, hands shaking when they clench at your sides. "No explanation will undo your actions."
Sunlight bursts over the horizon, bright and cheerful. Farkas' snores echo across the hall as your weary eyes wander toward the window to watch. Your throat is raw from swallowing those ugly sobs and your cheeks are stained with war paint and tears. Clutching your knees to your chest you wait, stuffed into the same chair you've been seated in for hours.
When the doors creak open your heart leaps into your throat. You've practiced the speech over and over, memorizing the words and praying that you won't stumble but it's all gone when you see her. The woman is half dressed when she scurries through Jorrvaskr, offering you a kind smile when she spots you.
"Sorry if we kept you up." Her voice holds no malice - you're certain that she's interpreted you as a disgruntled housemate. "Can you point me toward the exit?"
Your voice ceases to function, merely pointing her toward the front doors. Uncertain of how much time passes you remain there, knees tucked to your chest scrambling for the words you'd planned out so carefully.
"Gods, it's bright." Farkas' rich voice causes a fresh wave of tears. Through blurry vision you watch him emerge from the living quarters, one hand shading his eyes from the sun. "My love - what day is it? I thought you weren't back until Middas?"
"The assignment was easy." You gulp, hating the way he kneels right in front of you. His thumb traces through the mess of war paint on your face and you suck in a deep breath. "Everyone acted so strange when I returned. I thought perhaps it was because I was a bit early - they were all fairly drunk."
"We drank far too much last." Farkas moans, still scrubbing at your cheek. "I can hardly remember anything past dinner."
"When Aela tried to stop me from going to bed I knew something was wrong."
"My beloved -"
"I saw you." You sob, shoving at his bare chest when he attempts to hold you. Your heart is cracking deep in your chest, fat tears spilling down your cheeks but you can't let him piece you back together. "I heard you, Farkas -"
"It was a drunken mistake. Please," rough hands cup your face but you're shaking your head. You can't see him through the tears but you know he's crying too. "Please don't leave me."
"I can't stop seeing it." You hiccup, curling deeper into the chair. "I can't even look at you."
"I would have raised him better than that." Karliah's hand pats your shoulder. "The Brynjolf I knew would never do that."
"He did." Your voice sounds scratchy and far away. Whether it's from rage or the alcohol you aren't certain. You're lying flat on the bar, Vekel's infinite patience saving you from the floor as the world tilts and dips around you.
"I have some friends in the Brotherhood." Delvin pipes up from somewhere far away. You aren't sure if you're laughing or sobbing at his comment, noises and tears slipping out of you. "Want me to kill 'im?"
"I could kill him for you." Vex offers and you bury your head in your arms. You feel sick - you'd hoped that too many drinks would rid that image from your brain but it persists. His lips on her skin, her fingers in his hair, the sound of her sighing his name.
"There you are." His voice still sends shivers down your spine. You bury your face in your arms, mind still stuck on the way his hand wrapped around someone else's waist. "I've been lookin' for you -"
"To what?" Vex snaps. "Looking to do some more damage?"
"Love, gimme a chance."
"Get away from me."
"C'mon, I know it was fucked up but we were together for years. I told her I'm with you, that we had to stop before things went too far -"
"I said get away from me." You whirl toward him, the world spinning and your stomach flipping dangerously with the motion. Warm hands are there to steady you, Brynjolf's familiar scent filling your nostrils as your bleary eyes struggle to focus on him.
"Talk to me, love. Just for a bit, yeah?"
"We are done." You stare up at him, hating the way his eyes still make your heart flutter. "I'm taking some time off -"
"Don't say that. Think of the Guild - we need you, I need you."
"You should've thought of the fucking Guild!" You sob, hands smacking against his chest. "You should've thought about me! You don't get to do this, you don't get to make this my fault."
"I know sweetheart, trust me I know it's my fault."
"You should probably leave for now, Bryn." Karliah taps his shoulder when you devolve into a mess of sobs. His hands slip from your face and gods help you, after everything you hate to feel it. "Give it time."
"I'll be here, love. Whenever you're ready I'll be here waitin' for you."
"I'm sorry." Cicero snivels, falling into your lap. "Cicero's so sorry, Listener - please don't leave me, don't leave your awful Keeper."
The indecision is paralyzing; so badly you want to comfort him, to comb through the mess of his hair and wipe at his face until he's calmed down but you cannot. You can't stop thinking about the dreamy look on his face after someone else's lips touched his.
"Please, Listener." He gasps, fingers screwed up in the front of your armor. You can't bring yourself to rebuff him but do not have the capacity to soothe him. "Please, Cicero is so sorry - they were helping with Mother's rituals and so kind to me, so sweet helping with prayers and honeyed words." He hiccups, a sob breaking up his explanations. You want nothing more than to forgive him, to wipe at his tears and tell your beloved that everything will be alright, but find those words too difficult.
"Was I not enough?" Your voice breaks, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. The flood of emotions is too much all at once when Cicero buries his face in your shoulder. God it hurts - you've known hurt but nothing like this, betrayal that cuts down to the bone.
"You're everything!" He howls, both your bodies shaking with the weight of his sobs. "Terrible, awful Keeper - I don't deserve that title, the Listener deserves someone much better."
"Calm down." You urge, unable to resist rubbing a hand down his back. The sensation of his body curling into yours is so familiar but there is no warmth, no love in the way he clings to you - only guilt. His voice is torn as he mumbles your title over and over, apologies mingled in as he professes his guilt.
"Love you, Listener. Love you, love you, love you..." he trails off, wet kisses placed along your throat. "Silly Cicero made a horrible mistake but oh, how I love you."
"You know I love you." You choke on the words, shocked at how hard it is to say. You do love Cicero, you always will. "But my beloved -"
"Don't, Listener - please, your Keeper begs you." He sniffles, breaths finally evening out. "Don't leave poor Cicero. Anything, I'll do anything, just don't leave."
"I don't think we can get past this." His arms tighten around your middle, tears streaming down your face as the raw pain pounds through your body with each beat of your wretched heart. "You know I love you, my Cicero, but I don't think there is any mending this."
You sit there, clutching Cicero to your chest and crying until your lungs threaten to give out. You are both painfully aware that as soon as you let each other go that is the end. When he slides from your lap he will no longer be your Cicero, you will simply be two Brotherhood members who cannot look each other in the eyes. So you hold him, allowing him to cry into your armor and shedding endless tears over the love you've both lost.
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R Silver - Rabbit Costume Voice Lines
Summon Line: This is Clock Town, where many skilled artisans gather. I am sure to find a high-quality alarm clock here.
Groooovy!!: Your cheers lent me strength. This was a fun trip. Thank you.
Home: So this is traditional festival attire.
Home Idle 1: When I told Epel he looked "cute," it seems to have soured his mood. I meant it as a compliment, but it seems I erred in choosing my words.
Home Idle 2: My father saw me off, saying, "Go and enjoy yourself," but... It is somewhat difficult to allow myself to relax in a new and unknown place.
Home Idle 3: Perhaps it is due to all the skilled artisans who have gathered here, but there are some excellent equine accessories here. I think I shall buy a pair of these gloves for Sebek, as well.
Home Idle - Login: It is rare for us to have the opportunity to leave Sage's Island except to head back to our own hometowns. I want to make sure I enjoy my time here in Clock Town with everyone.
Home Tap 1: Clock Town has a rather large hillscape. This is a good environment. I can exercise my legs while making my way around to look at everything.
Home Tap 2: When his mother asked about his classes, Deuce began to mumble hesitantly. I believed him to be a serious student... Does he fall asleep during class as well?
Home Tap 3: This is a nice and peaceful town. The festival venue in the park is alive and bustling with the local populace... I am glad I was able to come here with you all.
Home Tap 4: Ortho explained to me all the different capabilities of the blades and saws that were in the artisan hardware shop. He is really knowledgeable, I can learn a lot from him.
Home Tap 5: This attire suits me well? I see. I'm somewhat useless when it comes to this sort of thing, so I should thank Deuce's mother for this outfit.
Requested by Anonymous.
#twisted wonderland#twst#silver#twst silver#twst translation#twst white rabbit festival#mention: epel#mention: lilia#mention: sebek#mention: deuce#mention: ortho#mentioned: dylla
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Years of preparation have finally culminated on this day. Turgon stands in what used to be his room, in the palace of Vinyamar. Early morning sunlight streams through the window and creeps across the far wall.
In the back of his mind, Ulmo calls to him. It is faint, not yet urgent. Turgon has planned his people’s departure and is certain that they shall reach the appointed spot on time. From there, Ulmo shall protect them on their way to Tumladen.
Everything is ready. Yet he hesitates, gazing unseeingly about the room. He sent letters to his father and brother in Mithrim. Admittedly, he did not give them enough time to send him their replies, if they did choose to write back at all. If he were to receive any letters from them now, it would only delay him further from departure. He cannot afford to delay any longer. He must do this.
As much as it pains him to go without proper farewells, it is his duty.
Footsteps reach his ears, furiously hurrying up the stairs beyond his room. There are many voices clamouring, getting louder, pleading, shouting. The door to his room bursts open.
Turgon turns. Standing in the doorway is Fingon. The sight of him is like a dose of ice water, and yet -- Turgon ought to have expected this. Part of him cannot help but feel relieved, glad even, to see his eldest brother one last time before leaving.
Fingon’s face is flushed from the flight up the stairs, perhaps from the entire journey here from Mithrim. At least, that is what Turgon assumes. It could very well be the heat of anger instead.
Standing behind him in the corridor are Turgon’s guards. Turgon waves his hand; it does not tremble, thank the Valar, and the guards retreat, albeit hesitantly. Fingon glances back at them to make sure they have left, then slams the door closed and turns on Turgon.
“So, this was your intention all along?” Fingon says. His voice quivers, though from wrath or from grief, Turgon cannot say. “You left us for Vinyamar. Now you are leaving us again for a city that does not exist!”
Turgon looks away. If he meets Fingon’s glistening eyes, the shield around his heart will break. “Who told you?”
“I questioned the messenger after receiving your letter. He would not tell me where this city is, only that you are departing very soon. I rode here as fast as I could.”
“We are leaving in a couple hours. Our travel must be kept secret; I trust you will not divulge it beyond Father’s confidence --”
“Oh, blast it all, Turgon!” Fingon cries.
Turgon falls silent. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest, beating like the paws of a rabbit running from wolves. After a moment, Fingon speaks. “How did you find this city?”
“I had it built in secret.”
“Where?”
“I cannot tell you. Unless you wish to join me and remain within its walls forever.”
He hears Fingon take a step into the room. “You have not even told Father. And what of Aredhel? Do you think she will take this lightly?”
“Aredhel knows. She has decided to join me there.”
Fingon sucks in a sharp breath. "So you -- you plan to stay there till the end of Arda, never to see us again? You cannot mean anything else by ‘remaining within its walls forever.’”
“The city’s location allows for it to remain guarded and secret, so long as none give it away,” Turgon explains. “If I am to ensure that there is no opportunity for that, then all who know its location must stay inside the city.” He swallows. “That includes myself. If I were caught by Morgoth outside my city --”
“You do not trust yourself to keep it a secret if you were caught?”
“Is that such a surprise?”
“You are too strong to submit to Morgoth.”
It is Turgon’s turn to be surprised, enough so that he looks at Fingon to find his brother gazing back at him determinedly. Fingon saw him almost fall to pieces after Elenwë was lost. After that, Turgon drew himself so tightly together that his face became as stone, unmoving and unbending. Locked away behind his inner defenses, he kept his anger and grief, doubt and despair. He is to become the king of Gondolin. He cannot afford to fall apart when his people need him most.
But it is still a possibility. As much as he can appear tall and stalwart in the face of Darkness, he is still just himself. He can still be broken into a thousand pieces.
“You do not believe me,” Fingon says, a note of bitterness in his voice. The sunlight catches in his golden ribbons, turning them to molten fire in his dark braids. “But I know it. You would never betray your people, or Father, or myself. You need not stay hidden in your city for all time.”
“What laws I give to my people, I must also follow. It is only just.”
“So I am to never hear from you again?” Fingon demands. “This is to be our final meeting together?”
“I will think of you and Father always.”
“That is not good enough! What if you need my help, but I cannot find your hidden city? What if Morgoth finds out and descends upon you one night, and I am not there to help you and Aredhel, and little Idril?” Tears slip down his cheeks, gleaming like crystal drops in the sun. “Mother is gone. Elenwë is gone. Argon is gone, and now -- now you might as well be! What am I to do about that?” His voice cracks and his breath hitches, chest heaving with sobs not yet released.
Turgon does not have the words. It is for my people’s safety. As a prince, Fingon would understand, but it will do nothing to heal this wound to his heart.
So he reaches out and cradles Fingon’s face, bringing their foreheads together. Fingon grips Turgon’s wrists, and eventually, his breathing steadies.
“I know you feel it is your duty as the eldest,” Turgon murmurs. “But you are no longer responsible for me, Finno. I am a leader of my own people now, and I must do what I feel is best for them. Just as you do for yours.” He gently kisses Fingon’s cheek. “I will be alright on the journey there. I think I can safely assure you of that. Ulmo has promised us his protection.”
Fingon swallows hard. “I -- that is good to know,” he says hoarsely.
“Indeed,” Turgon smiles, but the grief finally cracks through his shield, and his next words are shaky. “So you see, you need not worry too much. Alright?”
Fingon nods, unable to speak. Turgon knows not how it happens, but in the next second they are holding each other close, a final embrace. Fingon has to stand on his toes in order to properly wrap an arm around Turgon’s shoulders; he tugs insistently, so Turgon must bend down a little. Distantly, he remembers that it was slightly more awkward with Argon, but that never stopped Fingon before.
Turgon listens to his brother’s whimpering and weeping, muffled against his shoulder, and hugs him tighter. On the far wall, the sunlight lengthens, and Ulmo’s call grows clearer in the back of his mind. But that time is not yet here. For now, Turgon stands with Fingon, and lets his tears fall into his brother’s hair, unnoticed.
_____
I wasn’t expecting to write an entire one-shot for this; originally, it was just going to be a small snippet of dialogue, but the scene kept playing out in my head and getting longer, so I decided to write the whole thing!
If I were to make this a full-fledged fic, this scene would likely be longer with more exploration of their feelings, but as it is, I think it works well enough for an art post! Plus you get a closeup of Fingon’s anguished face! Man, I just love Fingon+Turgon angst loll
#when will i draw them with happy feels? i dunno loll but hopefully someday XDD#art#my art#tolkien#silmarillion#fanart#elves#eldar#noldor#nolofinweans#fingon#turgon#brothers#family#platonic love#my fanfiction#fanfiction#findekano#turukano
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part one
———
Lance wrinkles his nose, turning the device around in his hands. “This thing? It’s really going to help you evaluate my fighting style?”
“Absolutely,” Coran says, gently plucking the device from Lance’s hands and fixing the electrodes to his temples. “Like the headsets you use occasionally with the team, this device will access your brainwaves. Only this time, it’s goal —” he runs the wire across the back of the boy’s skull, under his hair. Once’s he’s sure it’s properly affixed, he pats Lance’s shoulder, guiding him towards the ring. “It’s goal is to make you afraid.”
“That does not sound good,” Lance says warily.
Coran winces. It probably would have been more prudent to be clear rather than dramatic. “Allow me to explain. When you’re afraid, your brain sends specific electrical signals that induce certain responses, yes?”
Lance nods. “Yeah, fight-flight-freeze.”
“Exactly. And there are certain levels as well, to differentiate from anxiety and true fear. Now this device —” he taps Lance’s temples gently — “is not meant to terrorize you. All it will do is access your fear response and cloud your senses.” He puts three deliberate strides between him and Lance, standing on the opposite side of the ring. He shifts his weight to balance on the balls of his feet, holding his hands protectively in front of him — relaxed, but ready to tense and strike at any moment. “You, my dear, are going to fight me — only you won’t think that it’s me you’re fighting.”
Lance is silent for a moment as he processes, and then he brightens. “Oh, like that dorky book! The one Keith pretends he isn’t obsessed with!” His brows furrow as he tries to remember the name. “Delibera — no, that’s not — detergent? No, obviously not — oh! Oh!” He snaps his fingers. “Divergent!”
Coran can’t help his small smile.
The opportunity is right there.
It would almost be irresponsibleto ignore it.
“Paying close attention to Keith and his interests, hm?”
Lance splutters, going bright red. “I do not — what! Excuse me! I beg your pardon, even! How dare you — black paladin or no he is my rival, as I have explained —”
“Moving on,” Coran interrupts smoothly. “I am going to activate the sensor with this remote. As soon as it’s activated, you are not going to see me. I don’t know what you’ll see, but whatever it is, you are going to want to fight it, and you will not hold back. You’re not going to be completely terrorized, but you’re going to want to fight with all you have. Are you ready?”
Lance hesitates. “Are you sure this is going to work?”
“Positive, lad,” Coran says, smiling gently.
Lance does not look reassured. “But what if it doesn’t work? You’ve been training for longer than I’ve been alive, more than that. What if you kick my ass and I don’t learn anything?”
Coran snorts. “Lance —”
“Or what if this thing overloads my brain! I’m not wired the same as most humans, you know, I process emotions differently —”
“I know, dear —”
“—and I hurt you because my brain is all terrorized! And then I’m too batshit with fear to get the device off and things get worse —”
“Lance,” Coran says loudly, finally getting his attention. “I promise you that all will be safe. You trust me, yes?”
“Yes.”
Lance didn’t hesitate for even a millisecond. Coran blinks for a moment, then smiles, touched.
“I’m glad. I promise, Lance. Everything is fine. This will help.”
“Alright,” Lance says reluctantly. He mirrors Coran’s stance, bayard held loosely in his hands, then nods. “I’m ready.”
Coran gives him a second to gather himself, then presses the activator button.
For a second, nothing happens — then Lance’s pupils dilate so wide they swallow the brown of his irises, and he lunges.
Coran throws himself out of the way, using his training staff to keep the space between them. Lance doesn’t let that deter him, stalking after Coran with silent, deliberate steps. He doesn’t seem to have any intention to attack again, merely waiting for Coran’s reaction, evaluative.
Coran gives him something to evaluate.
Lance was correct, earlier. As the royal Altean family’s closest advisor, it was understood that his role was a protector as much as anything else. He was trained as extensively as the strongest bodyguards, and then some. He knows how to defend himself.
He can hold his own.
He spins the staff in his hands, so quickly it whistles through the air. As expected, Lance’s focus is on the weapon, so Coran tosses it in the air, splitting Lance’s attention just long enough for him to spin into a kick aimed at Lance’s stomach, incapacitating him.
Only, the kick doesn’t connect.
Nanoseconds before Coran’s foot knocks the red paladin’s breath out of him, his body seems to crumple backwards, as if someone cut him at the knees. He catches himself as he falls backwards, flipping upside down to stand on his hands, doing some kind of twisting motion that spins his body like a top, right out of Coran’s reach. Nearly unable to account for the sudden shift in his weight, Coran stumbles, managing to shift his feet at the last second to stay upright. He scoops up his staff, pivoting a quarter turn to face Lance again and brandishing his weapon. Lance is upright again, bouncing from one foot to the other, almost as if he’s keeping a beat.
This time he doesn’t wait for Coran to attack first, bayard glowing in his hand and turning into his blaster. He shoots a myriad of shots, aiming for Coran’s joints — but no kill shots.
Coran deflects the hits with his staff; most ricochet out of the ring and dissolve in the training room walls, but one heads right back for Lance’s head. He cartwheels right out of the way, and when he’s upright again his bayard has changed forms — a dagger?
Coran did not know they could do that.
Fluidly, without pause to straighten himself out or re-analyse the fight, Lance throws the dagger with deadly accuracy. Coran has to duck to avoid a surprise haircut.
Coran smirks despite himself. The dagger was the closest Lance has been to deadly force, but he’s just thrown his bayard — all he has left is hand-to-hand. Coran has the advantage.
He thrusts forward at inhuman speeds, intentionally faster than Lance can react, swiping his legs out from under him. He hadn’t intended to fight Lance with his full abilities — this session is, above all else, evaluative. He wants to see what Lance is capable of doing. His goal was to get an idea of how Lance fights, and end it after half a varga.
But that’s no longer viable — Coran is completely blindsided.
It’s his own fault for underestimating Lance, truly. Coran is not usually guilty of such, and frequently watches in amusement as Lance leans into others assumptions of him to give himself the upper hand. Clearly he is not immune, however, because while he knew Lance was beyond capable, he didn’t know just how many bayard forms the boy could make. That will be good information for the future, however — four so far, and possible more depending how long this fight lasts.
He pins Lance to the ground when he falls, one leg keeping both of his immobile and staff pressed to his shoulders to keep his arms stuck. Lance struggles, trying to buck Coran off, but Coran is stronger — there’s nowhere for him to go.
Lance’s pupils are still dilated. It’s still a mix of fear and fury that dominates his face, fight mode activated. Quickly, almost faster than Coran can track, his eyes flick to the left, just beyond his shoulder.
It’s a trick, most likely. It will be foolish to look. This is likely the paladin’s last-ditch effort to weaken Coran’s hold.
But he’s pinned so tightly. And Coran has always been weak to his curiosity — he was an explorer before he was ever an advisor.
He glances over his shoulder, trying to find what Lance was looking for. All he sees is the red bayard.
The shaking red bayard.
Coran whips his head back to Lance, jaw dropped. The Cuban’s hand is outstretched, tense, fingers spread. The bayard shakes uncontrollably.
“It’s not possible,” Coran mutters.
He was there when the lions — and their bayards — were built. He helped to build them! He should know what is and is not possible, regardless of how skilled their paladin be.
But the bayard shakes faster, and then it moves.
It shoots forward, slamming into Lance’s waiting palm. His fingers wrap around it immediately and it glows, transforming into his broadsword. He jams the blade under Coran’s staff and levers it right off, freeing himself and scrambling to put space between them. Coran barely has time to react before Lance is swinging again.
From then on, Coran barely has the processing space to register what’s happening. He almost feels like he’s the one with the headset, fighting for his life.
Lance is quick, never staying in one place for more than a second. His movements seem rhythmic at times, like he’s following that same beat, but then he switches it up halfway through so Coran can’t predict what he’s doing. He has no trouble with predictions, however — on more than one occasion, Coran just narrowly misses a hit when Lance manages to guess which way he’s feigning. He doesn’t unlock any more bayards than the four he’s already done, but he cycles through them with ease, incorporating whichever one works best with a specific move, rather than a fighting style. He’s flexible, using it to his advantage, and he rarely uses weapons correctly — sometimes he uses his broadsword like a stick to beat with, or his blaster as a baton. If there’s a way to use a weapon he finds it.
He is, and pardon Coran’s profanity, a fucking menace of a fighter.
He has no idea how to fight properly. He’s more reliant on evasive manoeuvres, and he is slippery. Even in Coran’s tightest holds, he manages to twist his way out of it, landing a good hit or two on the way out. His weapon use is unconventional and frankly insanity. He can summon a bayard without touching it.
Coran cannot wait to train him further.
The third time Lance manages to knock Coran to the ground, the advisor doesn’t fight his way back up. They’ve been fighting for what must be at least two vargas, nonstop, and it’s already late. Coran is exhausted. He’s had ample time to evaluate.
Lance’s pointed broadsword to his throat, Coran deactivates the headset.
It takes a second, but Lance’s eyes eventually clear, pupils shrinking to show the warm brown again. He shakes himself, taking in the scene in front of him; Coran, panting, smiling up at him, Lance tense and victorious.
Lance scowls. “You let me win on purpose!”
“That was the original plan,” Coran agrees, holding up his hand. Lance clasps it tightly and helps him up, clipping his bayard to his belt. He’s still scowling, stubborn and a little betrayed.
Coran grins brightly, clasping the boy’s shoulder. “We’ve been fighting for over two vargas, lad, and I’ve yet to subdue you. You are nothing like I’ve ever seen before, in all my years of living.”
That gives Lance pause. He narrows his eyes at Coran suspiciously. “Promise?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Pinky promise?”
“Of course.”
Satisfied, Lance finally lets a smile light up his face. He unclips his bayard, holding it as it glows into his sword.
“I guess I can get used to a new bayard form, if I have to. You’ll help me?”
Coran throws an arm over his shoulder, guiding him out of the room. “Lance, lad, you have more to get used to than you thought.”
#why am i incapable of writing small things. anyway#vld#voltron#lance#lance mcclain#coran#coran coran the gorgeous man#coran & lance#bamf lance#bamf coran#brown-eyed lance#pining lance#pre klance#my writing#fic#autistic lance#longpost
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Self-Care Sunday
“Baby,” Rooster rapped quietly outside the bathroom. You didn’t know how long you’d been in the bath, but you’d pruned up hours, maybe days, ago. “Can I come in?”
“You’ve been dancing around outside for at least ten minutes, Bradshaw. In what world do you think you’re not allowed in here?” you reminded him. Although the whole self-care ritual thing was yours, your bath, your candles, your sexy 90’s R&B (Tevin Campbell’s ‘Can We Talk?’ playing at that moment) then a lazy half-hour facial of all your goodies, lather up in the super expensive lotion your mother got you for Christmas then fall into bed, blissed out.
Rooster had been invited many times before to join you but you’d heard enough “no, baby. It’s your thing, enjoy” that you hadn’t asked him to join you for a while. And he was right. It was your thing and you’d grown to appreciate the alone time even if he was only a few rooms away.
He quietly came in and sat on the edge of the tub, kissing your forehead as you reached a hand out of the warm water for him to hold. He did gladly, gently pecking it, tickling you with his moustache. “What’s up?” You asked.
“You look like a supernaked superhero,” he had to tease, motioning to the gel pack over your eyes.
“But my eyes are going to look like I’m 21 again,” you bet as he nodded with a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “You okay?”
“I just wanted to come say hi, make you hadn’t slipped under the bubbles. You’ve been in here for like… 90 minutes,” he reckoned, checking his watch.
“Miss me?” You grinned.
“House is remarkably quiet with you in here,” he admitted. “Except for your occasional singing.”
“Should I be insulted? Not all of us can have orgasm-inducing voices as special as yours, Roost.”
He did a double-take. “Orgasm-inducing?”
“You have no fucking clue, do you?”
“I mean, I know my voice kinda stands out - ” he stammered, never in his life paid a compliment like that before. From you nonetheless.
Sitting forward, you motioned to him. “I don’t take back what I said.”
“Oh,” he giggled quickly. “Well, I’m glad it can help get you there, baby.”
You nodded but noticed he was still a little off. “You wanna get in, don’t you?”
“Kinda, yeah,” he laughed quietly. Sitting up, you slipped the mask over your eyes and dropped it over the side of the tub as he smiled shyly, you reappearing to him. You offered the other end of the bath that was surely too teeny for you both. He shook his head, pointing behind you. “Skin,” he explained. Oh, he was in ‘teddy bear mode’, a title you’d given him when he was just a bit on the clingy side. Not to get you wrong, you adored being loved on by Rooster but it was so infrequent he was in a mood like this that you willingly ran with it when the opportunity presented.
You nodded, scooting forward as he dropped his jeans and with the grace of a baby giraffe finding its legs, climbed in behind you. His legs wide, you snuggled back into him, his arms like a vice around you immediately, your head falling back against his brawny shoulder. “Gonna tell me what’s up, handsome?” You asked, head lolling to kiss his bicep. You felt him swallow behind you.
“Just wanted to be with you - ” he tried.
“But really...” you cut in. He loved his alone time as much as you... maybe more if he was playing his acoustic, or doing something handyperson-ish around the house in the neverending renovations.
“Mom’s anniversary tomorrow. I can’t believe it’s 20 years,” he said softly. Heart dropping, you knew there was a MOM xx written in tomorrow’s date in his chicken scratch of the calendar but you always let Rooster reminisce in his way. 20 years goes quick, you reckoned.
You hummed. “You ok?” You asked again, you took his warm hand and kissed his knuckles.
“I’m okay,” he admitted.
“You’re allowed to be sad,” you reminded him as he flexed and released his arms around you to let them rest against the side of the bath.
“I am, but more of what she’s missing you know? Us, the house finally coming together, my career. Well, maybe not the last one…” he added, sighing. You hated hearing that he was down, and asked if it was okay to face him. “Of course, if you can manage,” he joked, as you turned as eloquently (not eloquently) as possible.
You held his face in your hands as he massaged your sides, watching your face intently. “Your mom and your dad would be so proud to see the man you’ve grown into. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind,” you kissed him, gently. “I’m so damned proud of you, for who you were, are and will be. And I know there is a queue of people who’d back me up to tell you the same.”
“Even Viper?” He gave a lopsided grin.
“Especially Grandpa. He adores you, Roost. Always has... even if he has a funny way of showing it these days.”
“Thank you, baby,” he dropped his eyes, a little bashful. “I think I needed to hear that.”
“I love you, Bradley,” you kissed his eyebrow and waited for an acknowledgment your words sunk in. He smiled wide, that blink-and-you-miss-it dimple on his left cheek making an appearance.
“Good Ted Talk, kid,” he admitted.
“It’s not always you that gets to say the right thing,” you huffed, turning back around to settle in his arms again. He tucked you up tightly, his hands holding yours.
“True. But I’m always surprised when you manage to keep your foot out of your mouth,” and you swear, he stopped breathing awaiting your reply. This was as close to God he’d get on Earth, he figured.
You sighed quietly. “Your ability to ruin a moment by simply being yourself is absolutely remarkable to me.”
“Thank you, baby. I appreciate that,” he teased, teddy bear mode long gone. But you wouldn’t deny it as he traced gentle kisses against your pulse that you really loved it when he spent this time with you. Bradley Bradshaw, at his softest.
masterlist.
#domestic!rooster drabble#rooster#rooster x reader#rooster imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster x you#bradley bradshaw#rooster x oc#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine#rooster fanfic#rooster fluff#notroosterbradshaw#I was bored and this wouldn’t leave my brain#soft boi
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Jealous
A short Huntlow oneshot where Hunter and Flapjack decide to coordinate their Halloween costumes. Inspired by this by @astrolavas
So glad it’s Halloween and Flapjack is happy and safe and very much alive
———
“Did you... put a tiny wig on Flapjack?” Gus asked.
Hunter nodded excitedly as he proudly showed the group his latest project. After finding the cardinal suit at the store (and on sale, to top it off) Flapjack had suggested Hunter craft him a costume as well and the opportunity was just too good to pass up. So now, Hunter stood proudly wearing his cardinal costume while Flapjack flew around the room in a tiny blonde wig and white cloth napkin that acted as a cape, the Golden Guard symbol carefully at stitched on the back.
“He insisted on the cape, he thought it was funny.” Hunter explained.
“Where did you even find a wig so tiny?” Gus asked, genuinely impressed.
“I made it out of yarn,” said Hunter, his excitement increasing. “I found a tutorial on the line, and it only took three hours to make!”
“Looks like it was time... well spent.” Amity said gently, impressed by the craftsmanship but still somewhat unsettled by the result.
“Not to mention, we can reuse it in the future,” continued Hunter. “I’m sure there are plenty more human holidays that require elaborate costumes. And I don’t see this bit growing old anytime soon.”
“Um... yeah there’s totally so many times you guys can wear those...” said Luz, giving a look to Amity that suggested otherwise as they all processed to return back upstairs to finish donning their own costumes. “But for real, you guys look great.”
As they went up, the door opened and Willow made her way down.
“Hey Hunter, do you think I could use your sick sewing skills to- oh my Titan,” Willow stopped herself in her track the moment she noticed Hunter and Flapjack’s costumes.
Hunter turned to her and offered her a wide smile, holding his breath for her approval.
“Hunter,” her voice held a serious air for a moment before gradually becoming more bubbly. “You look so... adorable!”
He beamed at her words as she quickly leapt down the stairs to see them better.
“Oh my gosh Hunter, look at you!” She gushed. “So cute and handsome!”
“Well, I don’t know if I’d say cute and handsome,” Hunter replied bashfully, suddenly unaware of what to do with his hands, alternately between crossing them and putting them on his hips. He torn between being flustered and allowing himself to have his ego slightly inflated. “But who am I to argue?”
“Oh my gosh you’re so cute, I can’t stand it! I just wanna kiss your little face!”
Hunter stopped breathing, stunned but not the slightest bit displeased. When he remembered how to breathe, he took a deep breath as he crafted the perfect response.
“Well I-I mean-,” he summoned all his courage to look down to her but when he did saw she was actually talking to Flapjack, dressed as Hunter. “Oh.”
Flapjack tweeted happily loving the attention, especially at his owner’s expense.
“Oh, what’s that? You’re gonna kidnap me so I’ll join the Emperor’s Coven?” Willow said in a sugar sweet voice, scratching under his beak. “Oh well you’re so cute, how could I say no!”
“Was I not cute enough?” Hunter muttered in defeat under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing! Ha ha! I said nothing!”
“Well okay, Flapjack,” she said with a wink to the boy in the bird suit before turning her attention back to the palisman. “I was hoping Hunter here would be able to help me sew this patch onto my sweater for tonight.”
“Of course I-.”
“Flapjack, please, I was talking to Hunter.” Willow teased and the bird shot the real Hunter a smug look. He gleefully tweeted* his response before taking the sweater from Willow in his beak and flying it over to his owner as he sat in his shoulder. Hunter’s face turned red at the cardinal’s words that only he understood.
“I do not talk like that,” he said sternly to his Palisman knowing now for sure his face matched the bright red of his suit.
“What did he say?”
“Oh! Uh, n-nothing really, just... weird Hunter stuff?”
“Well I happen to like weird Hunter stuff,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to give the bird a small kiss on top of his head. “Thanks for your help!”
Flapjack happily chirped** in response which made Hunter blush again as his eyes widened. Luckily Willow couldn’t understand him. But Hunter didn’t want to take that chance.
“Ha! Well okay! Sure, I’ll make sure Hunter gets right on that for ya!” the real Hunter said nervously, taking the sweater from the bird, holding it carefully. Willow giggled as she handed him the patch she had chosen and smiled sweetly at him.
“Why thank you Flapjack,” she said, giving him a playful nudge. “Hunter’s so lucky to have you to help him.”
“Yeah, he really is.” Hunter sighed, truly so grateful for the little rascal.
“And he’s lucky to have such a handsome bird to help him too,” she said, reaching up to boop his fake beak. “I’m gonna grab a snack, want me to bring you some worms?”
“I uh... yes?” Hunter hesitated, knowing she was most likely joking but also knowing she spent enough time in the garden to have easy access to worms. She giggled at his confusion, excited to see his reaction when she returned with gummy worms, before making her way back up the stairs.
Flapjack (disguised as Hunter) tweeted*** his farewells to Willow, loving the reaction it evoked from his owner. The true Hunter dropped his smile once Willow was out of sight and turned to throw the sweater at the bird who successfully dodged it and continued to fly around the room teasing him.
“Okay well then, you can sew on her patch for her,”Hunter said in a huff. “Good luck impressing the Captain without any thumbs.”
Flapjack Translation:
*Of course, anything for my dear beloved Captain.
**I think Flapjack is jealous and wants a little kiss too.
*** I shall begin work as I count the minutes until you return, beautiful and mysterious creature.
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hi!! i was wondering if i could get your perspective on something, as i really respect the resources you share about being faekin and i want to know more about it! i am irish reconstructionist pagan who works with the good folk, and i admit that i often have trouble reconciling my religious beliefs with 'kin posts that i see. i was wondering, if you felt comfortable responding, what your perspective on the clash that sometimes occurs between faekin and the cultural evolution of the fairy archetype is? if this is offensive i apologise and absolutely did not mean it as such! i'm still relatively new to the nonhuman community (my nonhuman blog is foxwyrm!) and am trying to learn more about it :} regardless, i love your blog, and appreciate what you share!!
Hi! I'll start by saying this is not even a little bit offensive! I know you're asking a question in earnest and I'm honestly really grateful to get the opportunity to voice my perspective.
And really, I wasn't sure at first how to approach all of this at all. My brain and beliefs are scattered, and to be quite honest I make it up as I go along. That's why I used to be petrified of doing any kind of spirit work, especially with the Good Folk. So only recently have I combined my own Neopaganism with my Otherkin experiences. I am still learning. But I'm learning a lot, especially now from others who walk a similar path.
I'll admit I had to look up just to make sure I understood what an Irish Reconstructionist Pagan is, and it seems to be exactly what I was hoping it would be! I may not be strictly of that faith myself, but I'm highly grateful that there are people who are, who keep that alive. I'm so fascinated by pre-Christian Celtic faiths and I do wish it were easier to find the old stories. But stories survive through people, and I enjoy sharing videos I've found where Irish people who coexist with the Good Folk, talk earnestly about their faith and how it impacts their lives. I think those collective experiences are very real and important and culturally valuable. I see parallels in our perspectives, when they speak of mutual respect and of leaving nature undisturbed. I highly value the words of the people who live where there are said to be Faeries.
Still I'd hesitate to discuss being faekin with someone of that particular tradition. I do get overcome with doubt and worry about myself. Is my very existence disrespectful? Just yesterday I ran off into the woods in tears with a question of who, what, am I?
I have discussed being Otherkin with the trees before. I'm an animist at heart, and I like to keep company with the friendly spirits of trees often.
Tree spirits are good listeners, and they understand the humans they live with. When I talk to the trees, I don't have to explain what I am. I show them. They understand. They accept me. They don't judge or argue, and they accept strange contradictions like me being human and nonhuman at the same time.
I see lots of things in the forest. Things that renew my belief in magic every time in different ways. I have hardly a choice but to believe in all manner of beautiful spirits, fae big and small, even gods. I believe in monsters too, but I believe in myself more, and I value my autonomy, and so I choose not to let my spirit be harmed.
And because I value my autonomy, I am drawn to the Otherkin community, where you don't have to have all the answers, just be who you are and you will be accepted in the best of our circles. We respect each other's minds, bodies, and spirits, and each of us walks a parallel but completely different path into ourselves. I'm glad there are others like me, who don't know why they are nonhuman in some way, just that they are, and that we have carved out a space in which to exist as we are.
I don't have all the answers, and probably never will. But I find little congruencies that allow me to slip through the cracks between what is and isn't. Here are some of them.
Many Faeries do look like humans. Changelings of course, and selkies, and Hulder and Skogskra, and nymphs and elves and many others. And much folklore seems to have it that people who seem to be human turn out to be Fae.
But I was born to humans, I know that for sure. And as such, I consider myself a Human Fairy. Of sorts. Like I said, I value my autonomy, and my right to say what I am and be what I am.
For me, the difference between a Faery and a Fairy is that Faeries are the beings that already existed, living at arm's length from most humans for most all time. We only remotely understood them back then, we only remotely understand them now. But we respect them, and many do respect us back and seek friendships with us.
The Fairy, on the other hand, is that cultural archetype you were talking about. A Fairy can be created by a human, it can be a human, it can be a character, and most importantly, it can be the link between people and magic. I have an affinity for pixies and pillywiggins, flower fairies, gnomes, brownies, dryads, sylphs, and all manner of tiny winged beings of nature, and yes, Tinker Bell, who was my personal introduction to the Fairy world, and the idea that there are magical beings who live in another world but also interact with our world. My first 'kin feels' would have been daydreaming myself in Pixie Hollow/Fairy Haven as a tiny fairy with wings and a talent, just the same way Prilla blinks to the Mainland. I still clap sometimes, because I do believe in Fairies.
And I think that the spirit world contains multitudes. I think it contains Faeries and Fairies all at once, and that thoughtforms, spirits, fae, and gods are all a big part of what makes humanity who we are in the first place.
And even still, I don't know if I have all of my facts and beliefs straight. But I know that I don't have to. If I waited until I understood myself completely before going and living my life, I'd simply never get the chance to. And so I just go live it. As I get older I care less about the labels and more about the experiences. But I love being a Fairy. I love being Otherkin. And I love talking to the kindest of the Good Folk. And I'll love this whether or not I will ever fully understand any of it.
I truly hope this is something like the answer you were hoping for.
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Farewell Wanderlust
Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault, implied PTSD, detailed bloodshed. MDNI, 18+
Pairing: Osferth x OFC
Word Count: 3896
Summary: Torn from her home country, Keavy finds herself trying to survive across the Irish sea. She happens across Uhtred and his motley crew, and finds herself befriending a monk who is determined to become a warrior.
Author’s Note: Stiorra and Oswald are aged up a bit. Again, this is a hybrid of the book series and Netflix series. 💜 Thank you @itbmojojoejo for being my beloved beta reader. Enjoy!
Please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! Dividers are by @saradika 💜
Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aspen-carter @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @randomdragonfires @httpsdoll @triscy @assortedseaglass @whoknows333 @shesjustanothergeek @heavenly1927 @greenowlfactif @babyblue711 (bold for those I could not tag, but requested!)
Chapter 3
The air seemed sweeter the further west they went, just the soothing rhythmic row as they followed the curves of the Temes. Ahead, Keavy spotted horses grazing near the shore and they docked, greeted by a man who called to Uhtred. “I had them brushed, lord,” his words searching for favor. “And fed as well!”
Uhtred rewarded him with a silver coin for the care and the men began to climb from the boats. She appreciated that Osferth lingered, his hand outstretched to take her own, his firm grip that helped her onto solid ground. She smiled at him before her attention returned to the horses; she took shy steps towards one whose ears twitched with her approach, its large eyes watching her. She held out her hand flat and giggled with the way its muzzle tickled her palm.
“You will be riding with me, Keavy,” and she turned back to see Osferth moving towards her, his arms folded behind his back. His tongue wet his lips. “Have you ridden one before?”
“I have not,” and she smiled again, her hand moving to follow the crest and reaching on her tiptoes to try and scratch behind its ears. “What must I do?”
As the men found their respective horses, she followed Osferth to a brown mare with a white diamond on her forehead. He allowed her a moment as she held her palm out once again, her tentative scritches to the jawline before he stepped closer, taking her hand to place on the cantle. “Keep your hold here,” his voice was low with his command, before he kneeled with knitted hands to cup her step and help her aback, and then he pulled himself up.
Keavy burned as he settled himself behind her, the feel of his solid chest against her backside and the same tenderness of his touch as before, respectful, almost hesitant. She grabbed the reins and held them for him, her soft sigh when he reached around her to take them.
They began towards Wintanceaster and she found his presence was not suffocating, unlike how she felt around the Thurgilson brothers and their men. There was a comfort, a consideration with his subtle actions towards her, how he held his arms to hover above her thighs until she placed her hand on his forearm to show he could rest them on top, to his warm tone in the shell of her ear as he explained the simplicity of riding horseback.
“Keep your hold with your thighs,” and she flushed with his words.
It was uneventful otherwise, just the soft murmuring exchanges between them; Osferth allowed her to take the reins and she smiled with how his palms fit over her hands, the vibration of his chest with the low instructions that tickled her ear.
Once in Wintanceaster, they dismounted and only then Keavy noticed the man from before, his brown eyes squinting in recognition of her. “I am so pleased you escaped, priest,” she said.
He introduced himself as Pylrig. “The Lord allowed me an opportunity I had to take,” his smile grim beneath his haggard beard. “I am glad you are out of their shadows. It seems, perhaps, that He has something planned for you as well?”
She gave a noncommittal hum in return and Pylrig and Uhtred left, the Mercian lords following behind them. “What do we do now?” Keavy turned to look at who stayed behind.
She saw the glint in the Irishman’s eyes, a wolfish grin beneath his beard. “Now, cailín, we will fill our time with food and ale while Uhtred relays to the king what we saw in Lunden,” and they began to move towards the tavern; Finan dipped into the doorway and looked back to Keavy. “In return, the king will question Uhtred’s loyalty and I assume we’ll be banished back to Coccham within half a day.”
She made a face. “That seems…absurd.”
“Ay,” he agreed, “but that is what we do. Still plenty of time to drink, though,” and with that he called out to the owner. “We need pints!”
They settled around a table and Keavy felt the curl of apprehension as the mugs were set down for them. But as the night continued, as the ale flowed, she did not see the flare of cruelty the liquor seemingly brought out in the Danes in Lunden, but instead her cheeks were rosy from laughter they shared stories.
The night waned away and eventually Uhtred returned, calling to Keavy. She pushed from the table, her limbs heavy from the day, and followed behind him as they pushed towards the bar. Uhtred spoke with the man and her eyes flitted over the tavern, returning to the table and catching the brilliant blue of Oferth’s steady gaze; she felt her lips curl upwards but he quickly returned his attention to the men.
An ewer was placed in her hands, folded fabric draped over her arms, and she looked to follow Uhtred. They came to an empty room with empty beds, moving towards another door where a smaller room was attached.
Inside was a bed small enough to fit within and a crude, wooden table with a shallow washbin on top with a looking glass that hung above. In its smudged reflection she spotted the empty gaze of a stranger, realizing the dark circles beneath her eyes and the beginning bruise on her chin from the backhand earlier.
Keavy suddenly felt very tired.
“I imagine you need your rest from the day,” Uhtred spoke like he had heard her thoughts. “My men will continue to drink, but we will not bother you.”
“Thank you, lord,” her voice was hoarse and she looked into his eyes for a moment. “I did not mean to lie… I will repay the debt to Lady Gisela, she truly did save me–”
“She spoke of Ebchester before,” he interrupted her, pausing in the doorway a moment. “She told me there was a girl who had the spirit that reminded her of me,” and he smiled. “I understand you did what was needed to survive and I trust that you will repay your debt.”
He left her, closing the door behind, and she exhaled deeply, a release of the anxiety that bound tight in her chest, her exhaustion lifting from her shoulders, and she looked at her reflection once again.
Among the fabric she found cleaned rags and peeled the frock she wore, her hands and eyes flitting over the damage caused from the prior days: the dark bruising on her thighs, the scabbing on her hip from the sheath worn on his sword hand…
Keavy shuddered off the memories; she poured the cool water from the ewer and used the homemade soap to scrub every inch, to remove the grime of Lunden, to peel away that tainted layer of skin. Her chest felt tight until she saw her reflection once more, a raw redness that now flushed her pale skin, and she finally felt she could breathe again.
She slipped on the tunic and crawled beneath the covers, allowing herself to cry until she fell asleep.
+ + + +
The next morning, Osferth was first in the stables; he was feeding straw to his mare when Finan and Sihtric rounded, with Clapa clamoring behind. “Don’t worry, baby monk,” the teasing lilt of the Irishman was loud, “she has to ride with you, as you are the slimmest of us all.”
He felt his blush reach to the tips of his ears as they chuckled, but before he could say a word, Uhtred then walked up with Keavy. Osferth felt his eyes go to her, admiring the curve of her neck shone with how her dark hair was braided back, the leather strap of her necklace peeking beneath the collar of the oversized tunic worn, her waist was cinched from the belt that held her dagger.
Osferth fell back a step when she approached, the warm crimson of his cheeks spreading to his neck and chest from how bright her eyes shone, from the sweetness of the smile she offered him.
He swallowed thickly.
It was the boom of Finan’s voice that brought his attention back. “Where to, lord?”
As expected, they were to return to Coccham. Like yesterday, Osferth helped Keavy up first before he climbed up behind her, swallowing the mixed scent of wood ash with lavender and thyme on her skin. She nestled against his chest and he swallowed again as he reached for the reins, caging her against him.
Uhtred moved his horse to the front and the rest fell in line, following the trodden path that led back to Coccham. Finan paced his horse alongside and Osferth was quiet as he listened to them talk of Irland; he shared his somber story of a love left behind, how she was ripped away and when he tried to retrieve her, he became cursed with the blood that was shed.
“I believe your curse remains in Irland,” her voice was soft and Osferth peered down, watching as she turned to face Finan, his eyes trailing the marr that lined her jawbone. “That it remains in the soil across the sea.”
Despite the tragedy Finan shared, his tone was still teasing. “Do you feel as if your fortune is turning now?”
Keavy pursed her lips together. “I would have said no if I was asked a few days ago,” she admitted, looking back in front of them. “However, I keep being informed by holy men and women that their God has a plan for me.”
“Do you believe that?”
“No, but I can respect it,” and she was quiet a moment before she added, “I choose my own fate.”
They followed the sun as it curved above and began to tuck away into the treeline, the evening shadows stretching until Uhtred called them to dismount and set camp. Osferth climbed down and reached for Keavy. “Your legs may be unsteady,” he warned her and she gripped his arms to balance herself.
“Osferth,” but he saw she was smiling, his name the sweetest sound on her tongue, “I am sore.”
His cheeks dimpled with his own grin. “I swear your legs will grow use to it,” he offered.
As they settled around the fire, Uhtred called Sihtric for the first watch. It seemed only a moment that his eyes closed before the Dane woke him, and Osferth pulled himself upright and placed his sword across his lap, watching the silver light that poured through the trees as the others continued their fitful sleep.
When he tried to wake Finan for his turn, he received a grizzled, “Fuck off, baby monk.”
So Osferth watched as the fire dulled to a glowing ember when a soft cry caught his attention; he looked to see Keavy flinch in her sleep, her eyes opening wide and her breathing rapid.
“Keavy,” Osferth called to her, his voice low; he moved closer, careful, “Keavy, you are in Wessex.”
She pushed herself upright, nodding her understanding. “Just a dream,” her voice was weak and she took a deep breath. “Osferth, should you not be sleeping?”
He felt himself grow warm under her gaze, grateful the fading fire masked the coloring in his cheeks. “Finan is a heavy sleeper,” he mumbled.
“Then allow me to keep you company,” and she wrapped the fur around, moving to seat herself on the log he rested against. “Tell me your years spent in the monastery and we can compare with the ones I spent with the nuns.”
Keavy kept her tone light, unwilling to attempt to sleep again, so he fed a log to the fire and they talked with the low crackling of the rekindled flames. They shared the stories of their paths and what brought them to Uhtred; there was an ease, a comfort, with their exchange and he mentioned her words from earlier. “My uncle told me something similar,” and Osferth looked to her, “how it is our steps that create our own destiny.”
Keavy hummed, a smile on her lips as she poked the flames with a stick. “Wise words,” and she bit her bottom lip. “So, this was your choice, then? You truly left the monastery behind?”
“I would say.”
“Well, if I was you,” she continued, almost shy when she looked to him, “I would cut my hair, to shed the remnants of that monk lifestyle, perhaps along with the pet name they chose for you.”
Osferth watched her and she grinned with her words, her scar deepening the dimple in her cheek, and the fire seemed to breathe life, warmth into her features. His tongue wet his lips and he looked away. “Perhaps I will,” was all he managed and then he pushed himself to stand, excusing himself for a moment.
In part it was to relieve his bladder, but also he needed a moment to breathe; his steps pulled him deeper into the trees, with the thoughts of the amber glow from the flames and how they reflected the golden halo in her eyes.
+ + + +
Keavy did not care for the night, as it allowed shadows for traders, for slavers, for Danes to roam without consequence. She remained seated for a moment, allowing the blood to leave her cheeks as she listened for his footfalls, the crunch of the leaves beneath his feet until they faded too far for her comfort. She knew she should allow him his privacy, but her stomach knotted and it compelled her to follow after, as though something within the trees beckoned to her.
Her own steps were soft and she soon spotted the lithe figure of Osferth, his backside to her, as well as a hulking shadow that crept towards him, with a sword and shield in hand. Without a thought, without a sound, she sprinted forward, her dagger gripped in her hand.
Osferth turned towards the noise and she heard the sickening crunch of the shield that cracked across his chest; he fell back against the ground, the air swept from his lungs.
She struck into the back of the leather cuirass; the Dane cried out, her other hand grasped and pressed until the blade sunk to its handle into his flesh. There was the wheezed escape of his last breath and he collapsed to his knees, falling face first into the earth.
Keavy remained standing over the body.
Osferth looked to her and she stared back, her eyes wide. “Are you hurt?” her voice trembled, spilling from her lips.
He did not answer and his expression seemed pained with his fluid motion, pushing to his feet and unsheathing his blade, shoving her aside and swiping across. Keavy fell back and she looked up to see his blade connect with the throat of another Dane, not deep enough to sever but enough for his head to snap back and the body to crumple to the ground.
“Quick,” Osferth rasped, moving to pull the blade from the backside of the first Dane and handing it to her, “there will be more.”
They ran, leaving behind the men slain, away from the sound of more that followed after. “Uhtred,” Osferth gasped, his lungs burning with the alarm. “Finan! Sihtric!”
Uhtred and his men moved quickly, as a unit, bleary eyed but their swords drawn, quickly creating a circle and facing outwards to whatever was coming. Osferth pulled Keavy and they tucked into the readied stance of men; she felt his soft touch, his gesture for her to step back, but she saw his unsteady hold of his sword arm and her own tightened around her dagger that was still red with blood.
Keavy could feel her heart pounding against her rib cage as she watched the Danes move towards them, seeing a heavier set Dane that step forward. “Uhtred Ragnarsson,” his tone almost gladsome as he sheathed his sword.
But the rest did not relax until Uhtred sheathed his own sword, calling the Dane by the name Hæsten. They listened to the awkward exchange over what he claimed to be a misunderstanding, that Hæsten continued on that his men paid with their lives. “Had we been aware they were your men, we would have just continued on our way, Uhtred.”
“And which way is that?” Uhtred called as they retreated back towards the woods, which brightened as the moon tucked away and the early hour of the morning began to peek through the treeline.
Hæsten wore a sleazy grin. “Why, to Lunden, of course.”
As the Danes made their way, the adrenaline seemed to follow. With the mumbled command to break camp, Keavy looked to Osferth and saw him hunch forward, his hand pressed to his chest with a staggered step. She moved towards him, but Finan was quicker to catch him; she saw the blood begin to stain through the thick, burlap fabric of his albe, creating a diagonal line of red from his shoulder and across his chest.
A satchel was brought and Finan moved quickly to remove the layer, and after a lookover he began to wrap the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding. Keavy shared what happened in the woods as Uhtred watched; there was a glimmer of pride to his features and his brow raised when he asked, “You killed them?”
“I killed the first one, lord,” she corrected, but her eyes did not leave Osferth. His complexion seemed ashen and he smothered a grimace as Finan knotted the fabric. “Osferth beheaded the second one.”
“We will celebrate your first bloodshed once we’re back in Coccham,” the Irishman grinned and clasped his hand on the shoulder that was not bandaged. Osferth’s eyes fluttered from the touch, but he kept quiet. “I don’t believe anything is broken, but I know you will be sore, baby monk.” He then looked up to Uhtred. “It may be best to have Lady Gisela look him over, lord.”
Uhtred nodded, calling Sihtric to accompany them, announcing that Keavy would ride with Osferth and return to the village as quickly as possible. “We will not be far behind,” he finished while the men continued to disband the camp.
Keavy pulled herself onto the horse, turning to help Finan with Osferth behind her. He groaned softly when seated and she pulled him arm with the whisper, “Wrap your arm around me, I swear I won’t let you fall.”
There was a warmth from his hold and it spread to her cheeks as he rested his jaw on her shoulder. Her heels pressed to quicken to a trot, keeping the pace with Sihtric, and she felt the vibration of his groan. Keavy placed her arm on top of his, her hand over his own with a soft squeeze. “Hang in there,” her voice was so low that she was certain he would not have heard, but she felt his hold tighten around her waist.
Coccham was a welcomed sight, its walls built sturdy amongst the trees at the Temes’ shore; the village was coming alive in the early hours of the morning with the callouts of their return. Lady Gisela stepped from the main house with two children in tow, and her brow raised when she spotted them.
“Sihtric, you return without my husband and instead bring me a face that I do not know…” and her lyrical tone broke off, a smile pulling at her pink lips with her recognition, “and a face that I do remember.” Gisela gave a sweet sigh of disbelief. “Welcome, Keavy.”
Had Osferth not anchored her with his grasp, she felt certain she would have fallen from the horse with the surge of relief that washed over her. Sihtric dismounted and moved to help them down, explaining, “Uhtred is not far behind us, lady,” his tone almost apologetic as he gestured to Osferth, “but he needs your help.”
Gisela nodded, her children passed off to another set of hands, and they moved back to the hall, towards a side room with a cot. She was not fazed with the removal of the bloodied bandage, her tone was kind but sharp with her instruction and Keavy was quick to return with a filled ewer and fresh bandages.
Her composure was the same as Keavy remembered from the days at the nunnery, she had the same gentleness with the soft flit of her hands across Osferth’s chest. The sunlight poured through the window and Keavy could see the gash from the shield edge that struck him, with a bruising color that bloomed around it.
“Nothing is broken,” her sweet tone said with certainty, “and the bleeding has stopped, so sutures are not needed. However, you are bruised to the very bone. You will need rest, to allow the skin to mend, whoever you are.”
Sihtric supplied, “He is Alfred’s bastard,” and Keavy saw the discomfort that played across Osferth’s face from the words spoken.
“I am Osferth, lady,” he rasped. “I am simply called Osferth.”
Gisela only smiled, finishing the fresh wrappings and then wiping her hands before she stood up. “Well Osferth, you will rest here until my husband returns and tells me what we are to do with you.”
“Thank you, lady,” he sounded weary, but his hooded eyes still watched Keavy as she moved from his side to follow back into the main hall.
Sihtric left to tend to the horses left out front and Gisela then turned her focus onto Keavy, her hazel eyes glinting with a golden warmth as she looked her over. She still glowed with the same prowess Keavy remembered, with a matured beauty that accompanied her motherhood. “You have grown into a woman,” she began, gesturing for Keavy to sit with her at the table. A cup of ale was poured, a clean plate filled, and she quietly thanked her. “Let us begin from when we last saw one another in Ebchester.”
It was a dam broken as she shared the summary, beginning with her service to Guthrum of East Anglia, to the siege of Lunden and about the brothers Erik and Sigefrid.
She could not control the hurt that choked her words and Gisela reached across, taking her hand into her own. “My sweet girl,” and her sweet voice was a balm for her broken soul, “I spoke to Uhtred that you were clever, and you did what was needed to survive still. You can rest, as you are now welcomed here, always.”
“Thank you, lady,” she sipped from the goblet, the ale burning her throat.
It was then Gisela called for her children and she met Stiorra, a bright eyed little girl who had only begun to walk, and Oswald, who smiled shyly from behind his mother’s skirts. “My hands are full with them and your help would be welcomed.”
Keavy smiled and felt shy to ask, “Should I bring a plate to Osferth, lady? I would think he would be hungry.”
Gisela watched her, a shift in her smile, something knowing that played behind her eyes and the dark lashes that framed them. “He will need to be tended to,” she agreed, and a fresh plate was brought out. “His bandages will also need to be changed, so you should continue to check on him daily until he is well enough.”
“Yes, lady,” and her green eyes were bright with her returned smile.
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#the last kingdom#the last kingdom fanfic#the last kingdom fanfiction#osferth#osferth fanfic#osferth fanfiction#osferth x ofc#we need more osferth fanfic#slow burn#farewell wanderlust
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I am so glad I found this blog! I’ve been following this along since last year and to me it seems so obvious! They were sad they had to go underground in June and when that random article said they were back together I think it spooked them and they decided they needed to do something drastic to keep attention off of them until enough time passed and Taylor corrected the narrative somewhat with tortured poets. They decided on PR relationships. With gabbriette it’s obvious, she is less famous and obviously looking for clout, it’s very common for these types to hook up with someone more famous and boost their profile. He was looking for prospects and I think he tried with meredith first but it didn’t work out for some reason. She definitely signed an NDA because all she did was unfollow him when he launched with gabbriette. Gabbriette was dating another guy basically a week before she started “dating” matty. Maybe they were already on the rocks and she jumped at the opportunity. Charli probably helped identify her.
I think they made this decision in July after that article said they were back together, whoever wrote the article had some sort of proof probably and was paid off. I bet someone they know sold them out and they were both pissed. It would explain why matty had his breakdown in July, frustrated that it had to come to this, but they both think of each other as the end game and decided it was worth it to do this for a while and then slowly roll out a reunion. Matty’s breakdown in July happened around the same time travis made that friendship bracelet comment on the podcast. Travis obviously was down to sign this relationship contract to boost his chances at getting into hollywood. So basically I think this was all new to matty and he didn’t know how to act which explains his weird social media activity and trial and error with meredith. It also explains his breakdowns on stage later because he was probably sick of it while taylor is better at hiding her true emotions from fans and she has likely done this before. Basically I think that the new album is a necessary step in a plan that will allow them to end up together and not have the public freak out as much. It is no mistake that she added so many clues for people to decipher about matty. Some people are still in denial or think she hates him because of one song, but overall there has been a shift in public perception and interest in matty aside from the controversies.
My only question is how long the contracts are???? I have been reading it’s usually a year minimum but I’m sure taylor can negotiate less, wasn’t tom h only a few months? I’m at the point now where I’m just waiting to see how long they drag this out until the breakups and how they handle it, if they stagger the breakups, how they re-launch etcetera.
What do you think???
Hi anon! Interestingly, the man who reported that Taylor and Matty were still together last July worked for The Sun, who were the ones that broke the news of their dating back in May! In September, he also suggested that The 1975 would feature on 1989. Mysteriously, he would go on to retire in December, shortly before the "Slut!" collab leak. Convenient timing!
Though Taylor would later backdate her new relationship to July, all evidence points to September for the official launch of both her and Matty's new relationships.
It seems Taylor might have had some sort of deal with the NFL as far back as 2019 in the Lover era, and that is around the same time that Matty met his current partner, who was receiving complimentary tickets to one of his shows back then. You're right, just before Matty, she had been in a serious, longterm relationship with another guy (who is now, incestuously perhaps, dating Matty's other ex - yep, the one who came both before and after Taylor! Also, these two are the absolute most hysterical side characters in all of this). Like I said before, it's also convenient that both of these relationships are basically pre-existing fandom memes from 2020!:
As you can see, I am a bit reluctant to actually type out any names because I don't want to attract fans of those relationships. I'm not here to crash anyone's party! I just happened to witness a once-in-twenty-lifetimes kind of love and I'm just trying to make sense of everything that's transpired since. Who they end up with doesn't really concern me, though I can't help but root for their reunion because, you know, I have hearing. (Which, by the way… I cannot for the life of me understand how Taylor's fans heard the masterpiece 'About You' and would rather romanticize Taylor being a "WAG" or a "teammate's girlfriend" rather than a muse for a fellow musician who is, dare I say, on equal footing with her as a songwriter and musician! I'm stumped)
But either way, like I said - I am not in the business of villainizing any characters Matty or Taylor choose to associate with. I do believe that these are PR relationships and that both new partners have gotten plenty of opportunities since becoming the public partner for both musicians, and that's not even a bad thing! If they are meant to distract from the controversy and feed ravenous fans, then so be it. Genuinely, I'm happy for them.
I'm glad you mentioned the friendship bracelet! 'Cause sometimes I clown every now and then that the album Midnights seems almost like foreshadowing for what would transpire in Taylor's public life since it dropped! We have a 'Lavender Haze': January at the O2 love spiral, someone talking talk and going viral on Adam Friedland, 'Maroon'/SotB: Taylor falling again for someone from her past, YOYOK: Taylor accepting a friendship bracelet, next up - perhaps a declined proposal? As predicted in both 'Midnight Rain' and 'Bejeweled'…
As for contracts, anon, I'm glad you asked! Taylor's partner's publicist, Pia Malihi, is another interesting rabbit hole to fall down. She got her start in a company called Bowery Public Relations/EMCBowery (of all things) and has partnered with fellow publicist Jack Ketsoyan to launch Full Scope Public Relations. A few years ago, Jack went on record exposing fake romances he helped set up, calling them "love contracts" and that they "legally bind famous couples together for at least a year".
Now, what's interesting about the "year" estimate above is that there are three possible end dates for this contract, if indeed, that's what it is. September is when they actually launched as a couple. However, Taylor backdated this relationship to July! Strangely, as of today, the media is saying that it is Taylor's year anniversary, despite the fact she was definitely with Matty a year ago. So… perhaps we're stuck with this stunt until September. If we're lucky? July. If we're truly fortuitous, then perhaps it ends this month! Or you know, maybe never. Who's to say?
Make no mistake though, anon, no matter how hard Twitter tries to virtue signal... Taylor wants us to pay attention to her love life and public persona for some reason. Of course, my theory is that she's done playing Barbie and is ready to burn down the dollhouse.
Thanks for the ask! 🤍
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HSHQTASK059: FAREWELL !
when did you join ? what made you join ? what do you remember from the plotlines that were current at the time ? where were you in life when you joined and where are you now ?
i'm not entirely sure but i think late 2015. i was a sophmore in high school, i think i was in my high school's computer room killing time and looking for a new group. i don't remember which tag i was in. it could have been #royal rp but atst i don't think it was. i was sold immediately because i thought it would be awesome to play a finnish royal. i messaged the player who had the finnish princess because she had a wc up for a brother. i was so impatient and i didn't wait for her reply but applied for viveka. then she got back to me and i picked up a second character on my third day or something. i was super excited.
that was almost 10 years ago. in those ten years i've graduated high school, worked here and there, acquired my master's degree, and now i'm working for the government. it's been an adventure !
which characters have you written over the years ?
viveka, viljo / vaughn, vanamo, viggo, minenhle, arnauld
what is your favourite plotline that you've been part of ?
i think i have three: farnauld break up summer, i think it was different from my usual stuff for arnauld and i enjoyed getting to write him at his most manipulative, and then at his most vulnerable. it was interesting and i was very active !
but i think i will have a massive soft spot for viani. it's so embarrassing that i'm just naming ships but idc, i'm an honest bitch. writing viggo as a young adult into an adult adult was really satisfying and i don't think it would have happened without armani / j.
and then i have viveka and imogen. i think imogen was the reason why i stuck around at chambordrp. i really think i might have ghosted without the dynamic. it was the first angsty exes plot i EVER wrote and i was very happy with it. if i now read the stuff, i'm probably shed tears of blood because the writing was so bad. but the ship is also the reason why i ever started listening to halsey lmao kgbdkjgb
what about other people's plotlines ?
i really enjoyed reading annexei. there was a lovely amount of angst.
i alsoooooo loved the beginning of layslan. it was full of drama and it was fun to follow ( okay i was a bit involved but i wasn't involved a lot ).
there's been so many amazing plots and if someone now gave me a list of all the shit we've written together, i wouldn't be able to keep this section short. i will miss the energy :(
who is your favourite character from the ones you've played ? why ? what made you love them ? what made them so fun to write ?
viveka and arnauld. i think viveka will have a special place in my heart because she is closest to a self insert from all of the characters i've ever written and what happened in her story i sort of learned from ? idk how else to explain it but i feel closest to her and she became a very strong figure in my life despite being fictional. i enjoyed writing her, especially the times when she showed her ugly side. in her i wrote some of my best stuff in the sense that the emotions felt real.
arnauld was kind of a caricature so he wasn't that nuanced imo. but i had soooo much fun with him as you could probably see. when i picked him up after a year long break, i was sure i'd lose muse because writing characters in their 40s was not easy in a group with young characters. somehow the group made it work and the political plots also became more important and i could do so much !!! it was fun to write someone truly horrible. someone whose behaviour was disgusting. i am so glad that i was given the opportunities and allowed to write a villain into the group <3
if you could relive a plotline, which would it be ?
this is too difficult !!!! for nostalgia i might choose this one event during chambord that was a trip to paris. it wasn't very eventful but i think... IT WAS SUCH A LONG TIME AGO. i want a piece of that youth.
a plotline that i enjoyed from start to finish would probably be the roman vs romanovs thing. it was complex and it moved surprisingly smoothly. it got dragged out but not as much as it could have gotten.
i also loved the short skit when sylvia found the ultrasound pics. it was a funny week. and all of the nye events have been amazing. every first week of the past 8 years have been some of the funniest of my life.
i also have a soft spot for the beginning of varbie. it was so natural and i don't think i've written anything like that afterwards. it was us saying yes to each and every idea. i loved their happy moments and their problems. there were times when they felt like real people with real feelings instead of just characters that were used to write a story.
is there a plotline that you'd edit now if you could ?
i wouldn't edit anything but like isa said, i'd finish farnauld quicker. i would have loved getting to write a bit of fluffy farnauld. because it's something we never really got a chance to write because even when farnauld was doing well the shadow of tekla and the croys was present. fanni had a lot of issues, arnauld was busy hiding tobias...
i'd also give vanamo and valias more attention. i know we could have accomplished more but my muse was flaky.
what's a plotline you wish you would have been able to finish before closing or just write more of ?
farnauld. i'm embarrassed since i've given it most of my time here at hshq but i still would have liked to write a bit more.
what is your favourite ooc memory ?
oooooooh it would have to be some of the crazy muns. like at the time the moments weren't funny or nice but the stories are now. and i think it also brought me and j and others closer to each other akfbdsjgbs
evy mentioned honesty hours and i agree with that too !
and i have to give a special mention to naomi. idk which particular thing but she has the best energy <3
where can others find you if they want to get in touch ?
i'll be here and on discord so don't be afraid to shoot me a message if you wanna write ! but i do think this might be the time for me to retire from tumblr / rp scene.
what else would you like to say ?
i've known some of you longer than some of my best friends. you know a side of me that no one irl does. i don't think i will be able to express how grateful i am for these years and the HOURS we have spent writing together. not everyone gets to experience this and it's been an honor. i've had so much fun and i honestly don't see myself forgetting this place. i wonder what will be the thing in the future that makes me think of something that happened at hshq. this is a very bittersweet moment for me and this honestly feels worse than graduation. hshq was more than a rp group to me and i love you guys <3
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Thoughts on So Weird's 25th Anniversary
It's hard to believe So Weird premiered 25 years ago. It feels like we JUST celebrated the 20th anniversary, but then again the pandemic has completely distorted my sense of time.
Maybe it's because I'm in my 30s now or maybe it's because I was fortunate enough to meet the wonderful actress who brought her to life, but I have discovered that I am in my Molly Phillips era and Molly has overthrown Jack as my fav.
I truly have had a different favorite character for different stages of my life and I love how as I grow older, I continue to love this show for different reasons.
Now as the show is 25, I've been doing a lot of thinking about the lost episode Chrysalis and the character Molly Phillips and the content that is on Disney Plus now and the content we were denied. It was such a missed opportunity.
At the time that So Weird was airing, I was 6-8 years old and my dad was struggling with a disease. I remember asking my mom what it was that my dad had that made him have to sleep on the couch or stay in the hospital and her just repeating "He has a disease!" until I stopped. It wasn't until I was adult that I learned he struggled with alcoholism.
At 6-8 years old, all I knew about diseases were that they could be caused by smoking and that they can kill you so I assumed it was related to his cigarette smoking and feared he was going to die. I also knew that he had stopped smoking for 4 years, around the time he and my mom got married. My sister and I are exactly 4 years and 6 days apart. At 6-8 years old I knew basic math and the conclusion that I came to was that having a second kid (me) must have bad so stressful it led him to smoking. I fully believed for my whole childhood that my mere existence was killing my dad by driving him to smoke.
That is some heavy shit to carry as a 7 year old and a whole lotta shit to unpack in therapy as an adult.
And it was all because everyone thought it was in my best interest not to explain things like alcoholism in a way that I could understand because they thought children shouldn't know about such things.
As a latchkey kid, I was raised by television as much as I was raised by my parents and if the execs at Disney would have allowed So Weird to do that issues show they were so afraid of, it could have been lifechanging. Being able to see my favorite characters discuss alcoholism and provide some context that shows and explains what it is in a way a kid could understand would have been so valuable.
But Disney was too afraid to do an issues show.
Earlier this year, I watched the new Goosebumps series on Disney+ and was surprised to see kids openly making fun of one of the moms for being a wino. I'm glad that Disney is no longer afraid to show real life situations in that alcohol is a thing that exists and kids (well, the ones who aren't extremely sheltered like I was) are aware of it. But as happy as I am to see Disney is evolving to include these elements and showing more kid-friendly horror, all I could think of was the missed opportunity they had with So Weird. They could have done so much good with Chrysalis.
One of my favorite things about So Weird as a kid was that I never felt like I was being talked down to.
As an adult, I absolutely love the depth to Molly that a past struggle with alcoholism brings. It indicates just how visceral losing Rick was, how much pain Molly was in that she needed to self-medicate it away and stop feeling feelings because they were too hard. It shows how strong she is as a person for getting her life together since then, being able to do a comeback tour and be the amazing mom we see her as. It humanizes her on such a real level. She's the best portrayal of a tv mom because she very much is a MOM-- she doesn't try to be best friends with her kids, but she makes sure they know they can talk to her and go to her for help.
Dealing with my dad's unexpected death in my early 20s (which was surprisingly not due to smoking, or at least not primarily) showed me that my parents are above all else PEOPLE-- with flaws, with struggles, who just did the very best they could with the hand life dealt them. Molly represents that so well and I think it's why I've been drawn to her lately.
25 years of So Weird and I am still finding so much to relate to and gush about with this show.
Forever keeping the faith that one day So Weird's full story will be told, either by graphic novel or reboot.
It is still absolutely timeless.
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Kaz's Poison
Summary: a confession slips from Kaz while he talks with an old friend, Belladona.
Pairing: Kaz brekker x reader
Warnings: Fluff
Request: no
Belladonna, queen of deception, goddess of mischief, walked around the dark streets of Ketterdam. People closed the windows and locked the doors as she strutted elegantly. She smiled,content by the idea of scaring decent people,or as she liked to call them, the prudish.
Kaz Brekker had called her, which wasn't an unusual occurrence because apart from the wraith, dirtyhands only trusted his lovely poison. Saying Kaz and her were in love would be an exaggeration, they were work colleagues that shared a bond based in spite and grudge.
She arrived at the barrel, the town of bastards. It didn't feel like home, but she didn't deserve one.
As she walked inside the crow club, she could smell the stink of alcohol and stupid men throwing their money down the drain. Jesper waved and approached her.
- Belladona,what a pleasure seeing you -
With a smile she answered
-its good seeing you again Jes. How is everything going?-
-Everyone is recovering from the heist,we are almost fine.-
-Im glad to hear that. Where is Kaz?-
Jesper looked surprised
-Kaz? Why?-
-He sent me an invite- she lifted her hand, confused - hasn't he told you?-
-No,and I'm confused because he hasn't left his room since inej left-
-okey, I will talk to him and see what is happening-
Without waiting for an answer she went upstairs and knocked on the door, with the letter in her hand.
-im not taking visits,you can leave-
-Kaz, it's me, Belladonna. Allow me to enter please -
- Bell, you can pass -
She opened the door and a half dead Kaz greeted her. His eyes were drained in blood and he was extremely pale. There was sweat running down his back and his face was stained with tears. She immediately dropped her evil facade,as he had already dropped his.
She rushed near him and sat next to the bed, waiting for him to talk.
-The nightmares don't let me sleep -
He didn't bother explaining the nightmares,as she was one of the only people who knew about his past
-He is constantly there, waiting for me to fall just so he can push me deeper into the tides-
-Kaz, I know that it's difficult for you, but you need to understand that Jordie loved you and wouldn't like you to blame yourself for something you didn't do-
- I hate the feeling of losing my life to a fear I can't control. I've lost a ton of opportunities I now regret.-
-What do you mean? Are you talking about your touch aversion?-
-Yes. I am in love with money and vengeance, the idea of making Rollins pay for everything he did makes me want to wake up in the morning, but I also love other people and I'm not able to show them-
Something inside her broke. She hated being selfish in a situation like this, but she loved him. Thinking of Kaz with another woman made her stomach hurt.
She smiled a little, trying to hide the pain in her soul.
-You should try talking to them, maybe they understand-
- I am doing it, but she isn't helping a lot-
She stopped thinking, her eyes widening at the confession.
-You love me?-
-Yes. I don't expect you to love me back, I know that loving me is difficult and maybe you don't want to.-
The pain in his voice made her heart swell. He seemed so vulnerable,a sight that wasn't normal on Kaz Brekker. But maybe that was the reason, she wasn't talking to the bastard of the barrel, she was talking to the boy he was before.
Seeing her silence he added quickly
-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. If you want to leave and act like this never happened, do it now -
-No! I love you too Kaz, and I don't care if I have to wait a thousand years to touch you, I will wait patiently for you to be ready -
Kaz's eyes were full of tears. said nothing, but we tapped the bed. You sat next to him as he said:
-I will bring another bed so we can sleep together without touching -
- I'm dying for it to happen -
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Between Us Episode 6 Commentary and Review
For my previous episode commentary can be found here.
If you aren't ready for the pain. Well, you're in good company because me either. Why do you guys do this to me? Why do you always want me to review the most painful shows? I think I'm surrounded not only by brats, but Sadists. I can't even take enjoyment in knowing that you all will suffer with me. No! Because all of you like this sort of shit. I hate it here.
Okay, enough eternal distractions. Let's do this. You ever wonder what it would be like to watch yourself on TV. No? Yeah, me either. Yes, this is absolutely me continuing to try and distract from what's about to happen. Ahhhh, no. Team. Oh, thank god for Win. It's the Hia that brings Win from concern to now angry. Oh, the chin grab is very Dom. It not only allows you to control the motion of the face, but dish out punishment as well. The bite of fingers into the face can be painful, but not necessarily overly harsh. It gets results and is something you can do in public with few recognizing what's going on. I personally am a huge fan of facial control.
I really feel for both of them At this moment. I get where are both coming from. Ah, there's that fist. I'm really glad that he didn't actually hit him, but I can for sure see why he was so pissed. Plus, being scared on top of that, who wouldn't lose control? But a Dom who fully loses control and actually swings on their submissive can go fuck themselves. You don't have what it takes to be a Dom then. The object is to have control, not lose it. It's like the shitty Doms who brag about making their submissive use their safe word. That's not how this works, that's not how any of this works, shitheads.
The moment he is standing there with his fist up and team is just waiting, says so much about him as a sub. The way Win pulls him into a hug and then communicates through his pain. Ugh, my heart. Team finally comes out of his shock and hugs him back. "My heart is torn apart." "What would happen to me if something happened to you?" You guys are destroying me and that kissed did not help. Fuck, but the acting is top tier.
Oh, silence as punishment. Ugh, can't say I blame him, though. I hate using it for discipline, but sometimes it's for the Doms benefit besides being an effective punishment. Use it too often, and it's abusive, but so is saying shit out of anger. Sometimes silence is needed to figure out your own feelings. The first thought you think isn't just instinct, but it can also be about your conditioning and how you are raised. It's your thoughts after that first instinct that are actually you versus upbringing. So yeah, it's only natural that sometimes it takes longer to sort all that out.
Shit guys! We just started and I've written an essay. Sorry new followers. Run for the hills! Okay, not cool Win, you interrupted. He was trying to explain himself, and you really lost an opportunity to learn here. Are you listening, Win. Can you pull out of your anger long enough to hear? You're going to be a shitty Dom if can't. Because that boy is going to need patience and understanding. Oh look, he is. Good. Awe poor baby. All punishment and no kisses, but look at him bringing you to his home and caring for you.
Oh, you shithead. Telling him that you should have let him drown. If he has a full-blown panic attack, I'm not forgiving you!!! You better fucking apologize! Don't, nobody, give me shit. He is past the point in which it is acceptable to make painful verbal strikes. What Team did was wrong, but he wasn't intentionally trying to hurt someone, whereas Win is. He is lucky that Team is so damn forgiving, unlike him. They both love each other so much.
Oh boy, she just said friend. She told you that Win brought a friend with him, and you're just going to jump on the bed. 🤣🤣🤣 Poor Team, he is getting so abused. They were cuddling under those covers, I just know it. Team like, yeah, who am I. I’m dead. Their facial expressions are hilarious. Okay little bro, you really grew on me last episode but this episode, you are sliding home. You are such a little sibling. Not that I did this shit At All. Nope. Never.
Look at him showing off his grades, it's so cute. If not, fucking sad as fuck. You don't show your paper and grades to your siblings unless they are the ones to raise you. Bless it. Fuck, shit, I called it. I knew I did, but that's besides the point! Fucking episode, you could stop killing me any time now. Ohhhh, I love this kid. He is so fucking astute. He knows exactly who Team is to Win, and he just accepts him. Invites him to come too. Don't know Team as well as you thought you did, huh, Win. I did notice that he calls him P' Team.
Okay... The whole calling out Prince's name had me laughing. That shit was funny. That was super cute. Dean and Win's friendship is bro goals. I adore them. If you guys only knew the amount of distractions I have going on around me right now. Oh damn, Win dealing with some flashbacks. Oh damn, the fear of losing something you love. Oh damn, the insecurities. Tell him Dean!!! I mean, Win you are relatable in your stupidity, but damn. You think you wouldn't feel it if something happened to Dean or your family? And he left. You are going to be real lucky if Team isn't petty.
Okay now they are cringy. Is he really dancing around, why spraying that on himself? WTF. Okay Steve!!! Look at you finally not being a third wheel. Win picked you for support? Are we about to see some redeeming qualities? Oh, thank god, his brother came. We might actually get some decent advice. Sorry, Steve, I mean T. rex. You're back to being the third wheel. Look on the bright side, you get to stare at your crush.
Oh, you are a couple, dumbass. Don't go getting twisted just because your panties are. Look, Steve isn't so bad. At least he gives good caring facial expressions. Poor Win, though, he's so fucking relatable. Okay, I need one of you guys to pull some good advice out your ass. I know he is having a moment, but to not pick up when your sub calls is just not done. I like Dean and Pharm and all, but I'm going to forward because I comment a lot about them in my UWMA reviews.
Just the two of us. Look, no offense, but I don't blame him for ditching you guys. My homework assignment for the two of you is to find some friends and learn to give advice. And I mean friends where you aren't the third wheel to, Steve. filler, filler, and more filler. They pretty though. I'll give them that.
Oh, damn. I really didn't want to see that. I could have done without so much details. Now I'm a little grateful for the respite of the filler. "Yeah, do it, I like it." That was cute. I also like how they constantly looked at each other. That's one of my favorite things. Okay, so is the snuggling. NO! I'm not crying. Your crying. If anybody actually reads all this, I'm going to be shocked. Anybody else want to punch, Win right now? Like not really because he is still a favorite character, but damn! I'm all up in my feels right now.
The product placement video!!! Loved it!!! Well, hope that those of you who were able to get through this long ass thing enjoy. As a reward, I give you the link to my newest smut scene.
Enjoy 💜💜💜
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