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typingcorgi · 1 year

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sanctuary; part ii

read part i here

pairing: joel miller x f!reader (no y/n)

warnings: tw for mention of blood, mild gore, violence, age difference hinted, no smut yet but honey have you met me? it's coming (and so is joel, and you, ey-ohhhh)

word count: 1.5k

author's notes: canon divergent aka no ellie I'm sorry kids cramp my style

still no smut i'm so sorry but i needed a little bit of a bridge from the last chapter before you and joel go to bone town. So this is violent-ish (I'm a very vanilla writer so if you are seeking major thrills you aren't going to find them here lol)

As always, if you like this, please leave a comment or reblog!! I am so happy to be sharing this garbage with you, whether you like it or not, and can't wait to get to the next part. BRING ON DA SMUT

also thanks @magpie-to-the-morning for reminding me you can put cars in neutral

taglist: @avengersfan25 @fairytale07

Gunshots used to remind you of Outbreak Day.

You weren’t old enough to comprehend the severity of the circumstances. Looking back on it now, severity doesn’t even seem strong enough of a word. It was more of a cataclysm, a shattering of the world you’d known for a world you weren’t prepared to enter.

New York was the first city to be bombed. The outbreak was impossible to contain on the thirteen-mile island, the Infected found on every street corner, every bend in Central Park. You were young, just beginning to experience the storm and strife of your teenage years when everything you ever knew had been ripped from beneath you within a matter of hours. At the time, you’d been in Boston with your family, unaware that when you’d arrived, you’d never leave.

Gunshots used you remind you of Outbreak Day. Now, you’re hard-pressed to go twenty-four hours without hearing them.

—

The pistol Joel had directed you to use lays useless in your lap. You turn the safety on, even though you’re pretty sure you’d fired the last three bullets mere hours ago. The truck, now essentially your immobile mobile home, is parked on the edge of a side street, overgrown with enough shrubs and greenery to make you believe you’re situated in the middle of a meadow.

It’s unsettling, really, to sit in the passenger seat of your pickup, to feel the rays of the golden sun warm the skin along your cheekbones and reflect against your tired eyes when you had a run-in with death in the dark hours of the morning. To be fair, you have a run-in with death typically multiple times a day, now that you’ve managed to get out of the QZ. The monsters out here are scarier than the druggies and corrupt FEDRA officers you’ve gotten used to. These will continue to track you down like bounty hunters until you’re just as harrowing and inhuman as they are.

And while the rational part of you knows this is life in 2023, this is your New Normal, you hate the idea of your actions dragging both you and your partner into unnecessary danger.

“Here are our options,” Joel mutters over the folded edges of his map. “Marlene mentioned there was a base in Mansfield. We can fuel up there or find a lowlife to siphon from along the way. But there aren’t many discreet ways to get there. If we cut around this way, though, southeast—we should probably be able to manage ourselves.”

A part of you wants to scoff. Probably. Every moment is a probably.

But in Joel’s rare moment of muted optimism, you don’t want to rain on his parade. You nod in quiet agreement.

You are not fully able to manage yourselves.

—

Without your truck, the protective cover you and Joel once reveled in now leaves you open and exposed to the dangerous world around you. The most you can do is put the truck in neutral and push the damn thing down the path Joel’s planned out for you.

It’s exhausting; even in the mild New England spring, you’re breaking a serious sweat. Evidence of exertion forms along your browbone and temples, and at one point, you tie the flannel you’ve been wearing for weeks on end around your waist, leaving your arms and chest exposed in a dark tank top.

“There’s a house up ahead,” you observe, hours into your arduous task. The sun is just starting to slip beneath the horizon, painting the sky in a series of blues and purple-pinks. Against the backdrop of the sky, the house looks eerie and dilapidated, almost out of place. You shake your head and remember it’s the rare moments of beauty–a sky at dusk, the glimmer of the Charles on a golden afternoon, the twinking diamonds of midnight stars—that are out of place. A broken-down home with a hole in the roof is all too ordinary for your liking.

Joel nods through a grimace, broad palms against the trunk as he continues to trudge forward. “Uh-huh,” he acknowledges. “Okay. We’ll stop.”

While the house is seemingly empty, the front door is open, which is never a good sign.

Your stomach twists as Joel examines the doorway, then looks at you. It’s as though his eyes are telling you what his words cannot—I’m right here with you. I’ve got you.

It’s wishful thinking, maybe.

“Let’s go,” Joel says instead, and your heart sinks.

You nod, following behind him. Joel’s grip is tight around his shotgun, with your hands around the neck of his pistol, aimed right in front of you.

Your steps are quiet. The interior smells like dirt and demise. You gulp, following close behind your partner, your unofficial party leader, considering it’s rare you’re the one guiding the both of you into the dark.

Joel is so quiet, you can’t even hear him breathe. Exhale too loudly, and you give away your position to potential enemies. Step the wrong way, make the floorboards creek, and you’re an absolute goner. You mirror his actions, placing your feet in every invisible footprint he leaves in his wake, nearly holding your breath.

You move around the first floor of the house, observing what might have been a living room, a functional kitchen, a decorated hallway. You wonder who lived here on the side of a main road. Was it a family? Did they make it out of here alive?

Or did they get turned before they even had a chance?

You shudder at the possibilities before Joel gently, strategically, opens a mahogany door to the next room. You’re met with a basement entrance, a damp cement staircase, and a musty odor.

But more importantly, more shockingly, you’re met with an ear-curdling scream.

Joel slams the door immediately, eyes widened without giving away every ounce of worry you wonder he might be feeling. “Fuck!” he hisses, and then his hand is on your wrist. He pulls you away from the door, down the hallway, and toward the entrance that’s now become your dire exit.

You hear the clicker clambering up the stairs, its cries violent and deafening. You can hear its frustration as it punches a rugged fist through the basement door, as it scrambles to find the pair of you, to get its rotten hands on you, and transfigure the fibers of your humanity to something decidedly inhuman.

The house isn’t particularly big. It’s not hard for you and Joel to try to make it out the front door alive, but it’s also relatively easy for the monster on your heels to launch itself onto both you and Joel as you practically leap down the front steps.

Your head slams against the ground, and before your body is able to register the pain, the shock of knowing there’s a damn clicker on top of you, and you’re about to die—or worse, turn—begins to sink into every pore and fiber of your being.

“Joel!” Your scream is ragged and desperate. Tears form in the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall down your dirt-stained cheeks. Your eyes close, unable to meet the sight of the snarling monster above you, its predator hands holding you in a bone-cracking grip before it can take its prey.

“Joel—help—I need—”

You hear two gunshots fire, and while your eyes are still squeezed shut, you sense the clicker’s blood—among other things that you’d rather not think about—splattering against your face. The monster’s grip along your wrists goes limp and falls away.

You survive. For now.

By the time you open your eyes and rise to your feet, you can’t help yourself—you sob into the fabric of Joel’s worn denim, unable to fight off the emotion as well as Joel had fought off the clicker. It’s impossible, knowing you’d been so close to losing yourself, losing this strange life you’ve cultivated alongside a man that can hardly articulate how he feels for you. Does he feel anything? Have you fabricated it this entire time?

It’s not the moment to mull it over, f you’re being honest. But you can’t help it if the thoughts come.

“J—Joel,” you stammer. “Holy shit, I almost—you almost—”

“I know,” he exhales, and you can hear the exasperation in his voice. After months of practice, he doesn’t know how to do this. His arms are a loose loop around your body. Despite your relationship and the amount of time you’ve spent together, you know vulnerability isn’t Joel’s strong suit. He’s not one to run a hand over your hair and tell you you’re safe. He’s not one to encourage you to cry it out.

But you do anyway, because it might be all you have left to give.

You both decide the truck is safer. He lets you take the first sleeping shift, offering his backpack as a pillow before locking the truck doors.

You’re dozing off. You think you might have heard Joel whisper brave girl in your drowsy haze, but you chalk it up to exhaustion.

#tlou fic #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic

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acrossthewavesoftime · 2 years

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Oh my, that was absolutely worth the wait. What a great chapter! And finally George made a move – he deserves Caroline and Caroline deserves him. The two of them are just too cute when they finally admit that they have feelings for each other, society be dammed. And do not get me wrong, I am happy that George got his promotion, he really deserved it after his little stunt at Trafalgar … but does he really have to go back to sea right now? He and Caroline just found each other and I have this bad feeling that Ernest still thinks he has a chance with Caroline. He was totally disgraced by Amelia’s letter and outed as the little devil he is … but I fear that that will not stop him. And what is the deal with this lovely elderly gent from Plön?

Anyway, I will wait in patience for what comes next. :-)

You really, really made it hard for me! Anyways, apologies it took so long, but was lange währt wird endlich gut, nicht wahr?

Anyway, it took me some time to figure out how this whole thing is even possible, and accidentally ended up mapping out the entire plot of a novel I’ll never write. I hope you’ll enjoy it and a fair warning, long read ahead. Warning: contains Stuart and Hanoverian family politics, naval officers and scheming siblings:

The Plot:

The Act of Settlement exists, but it is not acted upon; designed to consolidate a brittle Protestant succession suffering from a distinct lack of heirs, it is, surprisingly enough, not presently required as against all odds, Queen Anne’s sickly only surviving child William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, lives and succeeds his mother to the throne.

This of course does not go down well with the new Elector of Hannover, Georg Ludwig, who inherited the rights to the crown from his mum, Sophia. Georg Ludwig kind of wanted to be king, actually. He hates England, he hates going abroad, but he sure likes a sparkling crown, fancy new robes, and being a Very Important Person.

The cherry on top of the Hanoverian frustration is when the sickly king even fathers an heir, making it nigh improbable that an Elector of Hannover will ever sit on the throne of Great Britain. However, only time will tell if William, Prince of Wales, will succeed William IV. Riding accidents, accidental food poisoning or a beastly case of the smallpox can happen, you know?

Alas, it doesn’t.

So, all that is left for the House of Hannover to do is sit and bide their time (and secretly pray for the demise of William V).

Born into a dull life in provincial Germany and a bickering family, young Georg August Friedrich, Kurprinz von Hannover, simply feels like he doesn’t belong, and longingly looks across the sea to Britain, where everything is more worldly, fashionable and exciting. His undereducated, boring and terribly frumpy family simply annoy him, and since he has been banned from the courts of Berlin and Vienna on account of several unspecified incidents (one of which however is said to have involved a drunk pet ostrich in a full set of plate armour, though this is subject to much conjecture by historians), there is not much to do for him really, but to occasionally travel to Italy to get drunk on better wines and sleep with prettier women than are available in Hannover. One regrettable time, having always favoured women a tad older than him, he woke up next to a certain Charlotte Stuart. Tipsy on expensive champagne and merrily lamenting their fate, they had half a mind to elope together and conquer that blasted throne, the only problem being that they could not agree on who would be whose consort, a heated argument they took to the bedroom. But shh, this is all top secret, and most biographies of King George I (spoiler! J) omit this anecdote.

To his eternal chagrin, his father the Elector, called “Bauer Georg” by his people for his delightful pastoral folksiness and interest in other people’s pigsties, taking heed from his forbears after Elector Ernst August and Electress Sophie lost four sons to the wars of the tumultuous 17th century, insists Georg will stay at home and learn how to govern what little there is to govern in Hannover, while his brothers Friedrich, Wilhelm, Eduard, Ernst August, August Friedrich and Adolph Friedrich get, by the grace of their royal relations abroad, to join the Prussian or British military services and have terrific, gentlemanly adventures. He’d much rather be royal canon fodder, too, than ever have to read and be examined on another book about crop farming ever again.

And what a life is this for a prince who has found his first grey hair and is pestered about not having produced an heir yet? No, Georg cannot do this anymore. He has to leave this life behind! Screw Hannover!

Tired of watching life pass him by, measuring Age Progressing by the increase in his waistline and the cousin his parents have invited to stay at their court (and whom Georg is 100% sure his mum pays a little pocket money to cosy up to him in order to report back on him to her), Georg decides he will do what a (reasonably) young man has to do, and follow his heart: He shall to Britain! And to the sea! The vast, empty horizons will soothe his tortured soul, yet encaged at Herrenhausen palace— and those uniforms are simply too fetching to resist!

When his brother Ernst comes to visit home on shore leave from the Navy, one night, Georg steals away in Ernst’s (admittedly rather tight-fitting) uniform and is discovered by cousin Caroline, whom he has long since suspected to be his mother’s obedient creature. To his surprise however, Caroline, rather than rousing the entire house, agrees to help Georg with the cover-up and, waking Ernst, explains to him what’s going on, telling him that finally, the way is clear for him! Has he not always lived in the shadow of his older brothers, particularly the heir to the electorate? Now is the time to step into the sun! Caroline advises Ernst to pose as Georg, just like Georg is posing as Ernst. The Elector, who is stark raving mad, at least in intervals (this is what they called porphyria back in the day), won’t notice! And Electress Charlotte will know better than to make a big stink, since that would set all Europe abuzz, and potentially endanger the family.

For a time, all goes well. Georg has a rather adventurous journey to England after his belongings were stolen along the way (dancing-masters and Latin tutors don’t teach street-smarts, after all), and ends up lost and stranded in northern Germany, where a kindly man with a thick French accent picks him up in his carriage and drives him to a red brick country house in Wittmoldt near the small town of Plön, where he feeds him and provides him with a change of clean clothes. Realising that he will either be taken hostage by someone opportunistic or alternatively taken for a lunatic if he claims to be the eldest son of the Elector of Hannover, Georg decides to claim to be but the son of an impoverished family of the lesser nobility, who by the good grace of an important connexion in England have managed to buy him a commission in the Navy. The man and his family, a rather gallant son, two charming daughters and a warm-hearted wife, implore him to stay a few days and recuperate. Georg thinks the Frenchman and his family are aiding him as much as they do on account of his profession to avenge their loss of their home once he joins the Navy, but in truth, the Marquis de La Fayette and his wife, ex-courtiers, know a royal when they see one, and sensing that Georg and his fighting-spirit might provide a welcome addition in the fight against Bonaparte, help him by buying a passage from Hamburg to England for him.

Our aspiring hero thanks his noble patrons profusely before at last safely reaching the shores of his dreams, where, once aboard ship, he alas finds himself in a Hornblower-esque Hell in the beginning, yet quickly adapts to naval life. From his ship, the new lieutenant writes to Caroline every week, thanking her for her help. In a return letter, she reveals to him that she could not deny him the freedom she yearns for herself but shall never obtain, being a woman and worse, a princess, and kindly keeps him updated on the family the runaway prince suddenly realises he loves dearly after all.

Meanwhile, Ernst has gotten a taste for power. He secretly hopes Georg will never come back, because this is fun! This is what he is truly good at! He enjoys the administrative stuff, the paperwork— and the idea that one day, he will be the Elector, and maybe even King of England, if that damned asthmatic Stuart will have the good grace to kick the bucket before fathering an heir.

He is finally appreciated, people jubilantly call out to him when they see him— it is only a pity that this is happening under the name of the older brother he begins to care less and less for the more he falls in love with his new role as crown prince.

A few years pass by, and Georg, now Captain, participates in the Battle of Trafalgar, where his extreme personal bravery is noted when his ship, HMS Cerberus, intercepted the French Redoutable before she could get within firing range of HMS Victory, probably saving the flagship, and the life of Britain’s greatest naval hero, Horatio Nelson. Ernst, or rather, Georg, is a celebrated hero to the British who loudly cry for Captain Prince Ernst of Hanover to be named the prospective successor to the crown rather than his dull older brother, Prince Georg, who sits on his fat German arse and does nothing all day while his younger brother is so valiantly defending the freedom of Europe from the Corsican tyrant.

In a letter to Caroline, Georg confesses that he thinks the jig is up and the charade must end; alas, Ernst is not of the same opinion. He is fine being Prince Regent of Hannover now that the Elector has descended into such a deep state of madness that he can no longer govern his territories, and although the British toast to his name, he is not sure if a secret trading back places is even possible.

To Georg’s great misfortune, Ernst, who, since her counsel has proven so valuable to him, has taken a liking to Caroline as his chief advisor, tries to keep him from returning home. In the meantime, he proposes to Caroline, whom he thinks is his most loyal friend, but Caroline, despite knowing the mocking jibes directed at spinsters, refuses him.

A frustrated Ernst, who however thinks himself secure on his preliminary throne, takes a few weeks off to let off some steam in Venice— time Georg, informed by Caroline, uses to return home. Of course, the return of Britain’s favourite naval hero to his native land does not go unnoticed, and Ernst hurries back home only to barge into a semi-secret meeting of George and Caroline in which George who has matured in the face of battle and bloodshed, upon seeing Caroline for the first time in many years, falls to his knees and confesses his love for her, more specifically how he fell in love with her through her letters.

Ernst, hurt and betrayed, is raging— Georg is going to take everything from him! The country, the woman he loves and who has so cruelly cheated him by not discouraging George’s confession— he wants his brother dead.

Luckily for Georg and Caroline, their sister Amelia, the youngest of the Hanoverian bunch and So Over It All and sympathising with Caroline, decides to step in and publishes an anonymous letter in the local newspaper claiming to be “a person of import and close connexion to the Electoral family”. In it, she claims that “Georg” is jealous of “Ernst”, the heroic naval officer and has proposed a duel, to be had in the park at Herrenhausen at daybreak on a fixed date a week from the publication date.

Naturally, the inhabitants of Hannover, and the British delegation at court, are up in arms, and on “Ernst”’s, i.e. Georg’s side. Cracking under the public pressure, Ernst unfortunately admits in an epic shouting match with the British ambassador that he wants to be rid of his brother.

Georg meanwhile, having cultivated a sense of responsibility and duty during his years in the Navy, decides to make a public appearance and end the charade, offering a document in which he cedes his right to the succession of the Electorate, provided his remaining brothers will accept Ernst as his successor and he be allowed safe passage to England, where he intends to live with Caroline upon a meagre pension and his pay as a naval officer. Naturally, his brothers refuse to sign the document and although he is well-loved in Britain, there still is the issue that Georg is not an officer, but has impersonated one, so matters come to a standstill for a time before a cheering British public makes it politick for William V to confer upon George (this is what he calls himself now) the rank of captain in his own name.

Facing an uncertain future, with the disgraced Ernst seething at home in Hannover and George longing for some peace and quiet to meditate about his life on a starry night upon a peaceful ocean, he bids adieu to Caroline to set sail once again and follow his true calling, with a storm brewing on the horizon of European politics, and that at home: for the seething Ernst is not done yet, and attempts to hurt him by seducing Caroline in his absence, who remains absolutely impervious to his platitudes and flattery.

Escaping Ernst’s wrath becomes a lot trickier once Caroline discovers she is pregnant, and in George’s absence gives birth to a daughter, Charlotte. Fearing Ernst, she keeps the pregnancy a secret even from George, as their letters might be intercepted and read; Charlotte, raised for the first year of her life by a nurse in a village a few miles from Hannover, is to become the apple of her father’s eye.

In the end, George returns from the war, marries Caroline, becomes King of Great Britain (his nickname being the “Sailor King”) when William V, last of the Stuarts, dies and helps Ernst obtain the title of King of Hannover as a gesture of goodwill and reconciliation.

His old benefactor La Fayette receives the Order of the Garter, and Amelia a country house in England, where, before her tragic early death from tuberculosis, she is frequently visited by a certain Charles FitzRoy.

Baby Charlotte is legitimised and doted on by both her parents, who shower her with love and affection and provide her with the most stable home life of any British royal to date. The Princess succeeds her father in his titles upon his death.

This is where fiction reverts back to actual history, and we enter the Charlottian Age, named after the long-living Queen whose reign was marked by significant leaps and bounds in technology and science, as well as the largest expansion of the British Empire. But that you know already.

And here, the snippet from the story:

Georg returns home for the first time and surprises Caroline in the garden:

“Caroline?” the gentleman breathed. His face was tanned by the sun, rather unfashionably so, and his coat of blue bleached by the same; perhaps it was not the sun in the sky which had so affected his appearance, but the brightness which seemed to inhabit his heart, for he beamed at her as if before him stood Lady Jersey or another of those fashionable ladies one read of in English magazines. “Georg?”, she replied in disbelief, as much at his leaner, more muscular appearance as at the fact that his radiant smile was clearly bestowed upon her— unwed, of little stature, plump, and aging, as her aunt’s courtiers never tired of reminding her.

All ceremony was lost when Georg, tired of her surprised silence, took her unceremoniously around the waist and lifted her up until her slippers no longer touched the ground. “Fie!” she laughed, and put an admonishing finger to his chest. “You perfect beast! Are those the manners of an English gentleman? You are creasing my muslin, and you will know what your mother’s ladies shall suppose if I were to return from my walk with my gown disordered.”

“They might suppose you were swept off your feet by a sailor,” he jested, which brought a great confusion on in her mind, for she could not say if his teasing was yet as brotherly as she had always supposed his sentiments for her were, judged by his dear letters which had been her chief delight; or if he meant something else by the way in which he took her hand and kissed it before offering her his arm. “Will you not shew me the way? I scarcely remember the garden, it must have been much altered in my absence,” noted he. She gratefully continued the conversation at his suggestion, for struck by surprise as she still was, her tongue was utterly tied, and her wit quite addled by the recent confusion. “Gladly. But might I be permitted to say that you are much altered, also?” He stopped: they were stood near the little bower in which she had bid him adieu, dressed in his brother’s clothes; it seemed to her like it was only yesterday when the aging fop had disappeared to seek for a foolhardy adventure at sea. Never should she have believed that he indeed would go, and not return within the hour when his feet would hurt from carrying his excess of blubber; she had let him go for she had had some measure of compassion for him, not because she had believed in the success of his designs— and yet, there he was, freshly returned from the war. His features, though somewhat weathered, had aged rather favourably, and when he smiled, he was almost to be considered handsome.

“I am not altered,” laughed he, “and you must get me inside unseen speedily, I remind you. For you cannot think that I shall have the family see me in that—” he tugged at his coat and made a face. “Look at the lace— all rusted in the salt air— no, it shall not do. And you must change also, my dear: a feather headdress, and the pearls— you had pearls when last we met, I hope you did not lose them at cards?”

She shook her head. “Excellent. You must promise me to wear them.”

“But why?”, she replied and made him stop in his brisk step. “Am I not—”

He shook his head abruptly, understanding her meaning perfectly. “Goodness, no, never— I just remember how fine you looked— how vastly well they complimented your complexion.” His cheeks blushed crimson, as if having fallen victim to too much rouge, and he averted her eyes as in silence, they returned to the palace. I hope you liked it! :D

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lasalebete · 2 years

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… What has been happening lately why am I tagged by an awesome artist. aNYWAY, tag game! @horseboneologist tagged me, thank you!

Mhmhmmh some mutuals have already been tagged and hERE WE GO. Feel free to ignore, no pressure! @p1nkwitch @nureyev-steel-institute @lonelysa1lor @ghostlycollectorchaos (also @pxachy-art and @alanmontr because it would be funny but I’m not even sure you guys will see the notification)

relationship status: Taken! No idea how I managed to score but I did, apparently.

fave colour: Blue and green, I believe I hope this isn’t only because of lonelyeyes

fave food: How do you want me to know that… Curry, probably. I also love desserts in general.

song stuck in head: Sabotage by Beastie Boys. I don’t know, don’t ask me.

last thing googled: oh boy huh. “crying blushing emoji” (look I needed it to reply to an ask) “barnabas bennett” and “tma wiki” (Jonahbas brainrot as of now, and I am Writing)

dream trip: Huuuuuh boy I don’t know. I think I would like to be in England on my own.

last book read/currently reading: … Oh boy. Look I’ve been having a hard time reading, but yesterday I picked up again It Devours! by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor. Yes, the Nighvale novel.

Last book enjoyed: It’s a re(re-re-re-re-re)reading and I haven’t even finished it yet, but Debout Les Morts by Fred Vargas! i really, really recommend her work if you’re into crime novels. No idea what the name is in english, she’s a french author and her books are brilliant. I have a lot of opinions about her. Hmm I feel like I should also mention Rimbaud’s Les Cahiers de Douai. Beautiful poetry. Made me feel unknown emotions till now. Made me obsessed with his work.

Last book hated: Une Vie by Maupassant KILL KILL BITE BITE. Look, this was a mandatory read a professor asked us to make (is that proper english? I do not think so. Anyway.) and it’s simply! It’s not what I like to read, okay, and I can adapt with things I don’t like! But this one… First of all I don’t like the writing style, too… Heavy. And the story— Anyway, this is not the place to rant about it hfdslhfdl

Favourite thing to cook/bake: Hmm I love cooking and baking in general, I don’t think I have any favourite, though. I don’t know. Biscuits. I like baking biscuits.

Most niche dislike: Hum. I do have an idea, but I just wonder if it’s going to translate properly in english. Very niche… Pet peeve, I hate when people don’t… Talk well. This is very specific, I don’t even know how to explain it. Hmm, for example when people conjugate verbs in a very, very wrong way. When they just… Talk wrong. There are some phrases that will make me bang my head on the walls. Don’t get me wrong, inventing words and odd conjugation is a part of my daily life and one of my main occupations, but when it isn’t done for fun and from outright… Blatant… Ignorance, I guess, I can’t stand it. God, this is coming off as aggressive, I’m sorry, that’s not my intention. Maybe it’s just the place I live in as of now.

opinion on the circus: I went maybe twice to any circus. But mainly my opinion is, let humans play all they want and if you include animals in it do it right. Am I delusional? Is that delusional? It may be, I don’t know.

sense of direction: If I need to go somewhere? Catch me using google maps, memorizing street names, all you want. If I know there’s someone who can help me? My man, I don't even know where my feet are.

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theretirementstory · 9 months

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Bonjour tout le monde, it has been a busy week but with time for relaxing i.e. watching the woman’s football World Cup. The jobs included mowing the grass (front and back) loading up the car with “dead” solar lights, taking the wooden crate I had planted things in last year but which just looked “crummy” this year. Had the big bag which I throw most of the weedy grass cuttings into along with items I don’t want in the composter. The man at the decheterie emptied the solar lights and crummy crate out for me so that I just had the bag of garden waste to empty.

I had washed bedding so there was ironing to do, shopping and I called at the coiffure to book an appointment to have my hair cut (before it all falls out), plus I had my bag to pack for the hospital. I have realised why I find it hard being in hospital, I can’t just walk into the garden, go and make a drink or my lunch, keep myself busy doing little jobs, well I suppose it’s because people are in there who are ill and yes I know I am too but I have been feeling so strong that lazing about in the bed is not me! I need to be active. Goodness knows how I will cope with possibly another 4 weeks in hospital!! I have been told that I will have an exercise bike in the room so that I can “work out” on that …… Adam Yates had better watch out 😂😂.

So off I went, on Wednesday, to the hospital, my room was not ready for 3pm and it was about 5pm when I was installed. No chemo that day which meant (horror of horrors) that I wouldn’t be going home on Friday and that my homemade sandwiches would be finished before then 😱 I would have to eat some of their terrible food 😱.

Fortunately, I was allowed home yesterday. Anie messaged to say, don’t get a taxi, I will come through for you. She arrived around 12 and we drove home in torrential rain. The sky was leaden but I said “I bet as we near Bar-sur-Aube the sky will have blue in it” and sure enough it did and parts of the town were bone dry although there was a heavy shower just as I got home. What a lovely sight greeted me as I arrived home, the hibiscus are in full bloom, white, lilac and pink are flowering around the Weigela with its red blooms. (See photo above)

Anie was going to drop me at places to pick up some things but I had already planned in my head what the day would look like so I said to just go straight home.

I watched the England ladies beat Columbia, then decided to go to the pharmacy for my medication. 😱 one injection I needed for tomorrow wasn’t available there and the other three pharmacies in town didn’t have them either. One could get some for Monday morning but nothing for Saturday!

The girl then rang a pharmacy 21 kms away, they didn’t have that make but a “similar” one so I had to drive to Vendeuvre sur-Barse to collect two that he had and have to go back on Monday to collect the other nine! When I saw the price of the 11 injections no wonder he wanted me to go back to him for them!

My sons will probably laugh at this, as really since Covid struck in 2020, I haven’t ventured out on a run in the car. Except in exceptional cases like going to see the cardiologist in Chaumont, I have just driven in town, in fact thinking of driving to the decheterie the other day had me wishing I didn’t have to go. So to be confronted with this 26 mile round trip, before I could go and do my food shopping and have my hair appointment, filled me with dread.

Anyway off I went, not bothering to put the sat nav on, but had quickly looked on maps on the phone. Well I got there ok, turned off as remembered and thought I would easily find the pharmacy. Oh no! I was past the few shops on the street and heading towards houses, I took a right turn and suddenly on the left was the pharmacy. I had missed the way in so drove in the way out (always one!) parked up and went in for the injections. The guy was faffing about that much I thought I would still be waiting there on Monday afternoon!! Then he delivered his bombshell……. these need to be stored in the fridge and quickly! Now that meant stopping to take some photos very quickly, driving back home and then going shopping and to the hairdressers. Goodness me do these people not realise I was still having chemo at midnight Friday night/Saturday morning! (Of course not). Well as I said I have been feeling so strong, of course I did it, even had time for a wander around my town taking photos and arrived for hair appointment 10 minutes early but that wasn’t a problem, I had hair washed cut and blow dried and I love it 😊.

Oh yes, with all of this excitement, I have forgotten to say that I had the mega video call last Sunday. We had no technical problems but we did manage to keep it going for 3 hours this time 😩. Well I suppose we hadn’t spoken for months and months so had a lot to catch up on. It’s nice though that a chance meeting in 2019 has led to this continued friendship. As they are older now and won’t be making the journey over for skiing, I will no doubt get to visit them at their home as I was due to do in May.

So now to the very quick photographs I wanted to take in Vendeuvre-sur-Barse. Well I knew that there was a Château there and as I was so close to it I parked up, hurried out and took the photo (see below) it faces onto a delightful park which is open for people to walk around. Maybe on Monday I will have a little longer time to appreciate it.

Today is due to be a cloudy day with a top temperature of 25c. Rain is forecast at some point during the next two days as well, that means that the weeds in the grass will flourish 😩.

I pulled up the beetroot which have been a bit neglected, I have three small ones to cook. I was considering planting some more but have decided against it as I will be in hospital and don’t want my neighbour having to do lots of jobs for me.

So as you see, my lovely life here continues, only interrupted by hospital appointments.

During my lifetime music and songs have played an important part, back in 1969 the Love Affairs “One Road” had me readily apply that to my life and in 1986 it was Talk Talk’s turn with “Life’s What You Make It”. I haven’t always been a positive person, in my earlier years wondering “why me” or feeling like I needed something more than “humdrum”, that’s when you have to make decisions or spend your days “defeated”. With my first cancer diagnosis in 2014 my priority was to get well for my son’s. Now that priority includes my grandchildren, this is what has spurred me on since May, well that and the fact that I have only had 6 years of this life here in France and I really want a lot more 😁.

So with that positive thought I will bid you a wonderful week.

Until the next time………..

#barsuraube #vendeuvresurbarse #nature #photography #livingthedream #adventures #châteaux

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randomshyperson · 3 years

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The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 10 - The Fifth Year (Part Four)

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. Chapter Warnings: Dark magic, violence, magical torture.

A/N> I really hope i don't put this fic into another hiatus, but i got a feeling i will. The only I can promise is to finish it. Hope you all like this chapter.

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Part X - The Fifth Year (Part Four)

You walk beside Headmistress Harkness in silence, deeper into the dungeons of the castle.

She leads you to a wooden door, and then you enter a large stone room, which you imagine to be an office for the study of ancient runes, as you notice the symbols around the room, carved into the rocks and the corners of the walls.

"Professor, what did we come here for?" You ask with your arms folded across your chest, feeling your body shiver slightly at the creepy atmosphere in the room.

"I am going to help you reach your true potential, Miss Stark." She declares simply and waves her wand.

You feel your body being pushed until you are in the center of the room, your arms uncrossing and stretching out at your body's side, but soon there are thick iron chains conjured around your ankles and wrists.

Letting out a surprised exclamation, you look at Harkness in fear, but she is muttering softly, and walking around while touching the runes with her wand, and the symbols light up a purple glow one by one.

"Professor, what's going on?" You question trying to struggle against the chains, which seem to get tighter with each movement. You let out a grunt of pain.

"Stop fighting." She orders as she turns to you, her gaze assessing your face. "It's almost time, it will be painful if you resist."

"What are you talking about?"

But Agatha didn't answer and walked back behind you. You deduced that she was touching the runes on the walls at your back, because you could hear the rustling on the rocks, and then she came back into your field of vision.

She rummaged through her pockets, and pulled out a small watch.

"Now, now, you're almost late." She remarks, and looks back at you with a little smile. "I bet Erik asked about Pietro."

You frowned, but Agatha looked away, moving to the cabinet in the corner of the room. She returned with four candles in her hands, and deposited them around you.

You watched her use her wand to make the candles stand perfectly still in the four corners, and then light itself. You felt your heart race. Agatha was going to do a ritual with you. Of what exactly you had no idea. And judging by the events, it couldn't be good.

"Professor..."

"Quiet." She interrupts earnestly, one finger raised in the air while she looks back at the clock. You wriggle uncomfortably, and it takes only a moment for Agatha to let out a sigh and turn to you. "Let's get started."

You were about to ask again, but Agatha raises her wand toward you and mutters words you don't recognize.

Your vision dims for a second and then you think you are having another vision, but you cannot understand exactly what it is.

It looks like the nightmares you had with Mephisto, but everything is quieter. You can only hear your own footsteps, but it is as if you were walking on water.

The shelves in the ministry are completely empty, and the image is dull.

This time you are not looking for something. You are calling out to someone.

You walk and you walk, and then you come to the center of a room. And you choke when you see yourself.

But your face is completely bloodied, and you are whimpering in pain.

"I found you." The voice is Mephisto's, but you don't see him anywhere. Your bruised self is dying, and you begin to feel desperate, but when you try to scream for help, what comes out are the words. "Where is it? Find it for me!"

"I don't know." Your self whines. "And if I did know I wouldn't tell you."

"Filthy half-blood!" The voice that is your accuses, and then there is a red light and your bruised self screams in pain. It is the cruciatus curse, and it only stops after a moment. "I have no time for your lies. I'll end it at once."

You gasp and are back in Agatha's room, falling to your knees.

"What was that?" You manage to ask as you try to calm your breathing, grumbling in pain as you realize that the sudden movement has made the chains hurt your wrists.

"That was just what it took to get Wanda away from the castle." Agatha replies as she lowers her wand. You frown in confusion, but the woman is getting closer. She makes a motion with her hands and you feel a sharp pain on the tip of your forehead, and you grumble.

A little blood trickles down her face, but it doesn't hurt that much, and you figure it's just a small cut. Ancient runes are not your specialty, but it's not hard to imagine that she just drew one on your skin.

"What do you want from me, professor?" You ask half breathlessly, feeling your body weak. Agatha is muttering some incantations, and you feel as if your energy is slowly being drained away.

When she stops, you can barely keep your eyes open.

"Now we will wait a little while, dear." She says as she kneels in front of the candled square she created. "Wanda needs time to get to the ministry."

You shook your head, feeling your vision go blurry and your mouth go dry. Agatha sighed before she stood up, and you were surprised that she brought you water.

"I don't want you to collapse now, we're not even halfway through it." She declared as she forced the small bottle against your lips. You grumbled, but she held your chin tightly and forced you to drink.

It wasn't water, but it didn't taste bad.

"There you go, drink it all." She guided and only when the item was empty she pulled away. With a flick of her fingers, the bottle disappeared and you gasped as you felt a wave of heat pass through your entire body.

It was a potion of vigor, and although confused and frightened, you had no physical discomfort.

"What did you do to me?" You questioned between teeth. Agatha moved around the room, grabbing one of the books from the bookshelf. She muttered something about making sure she was doing everything right, before she stopped standing in front of you.

"Isn't it obvious, my dear?" She retorted with debauchery. "And I thought you would be smarter, but perhaps the hat was wrong."

Agatha crouched down again, and put the book down on the floor in front of you. You looked down to notice that it was open on a page that contained a map of England.

Before you could ask, she was forcing your head down, and you grunted in pain. When your blood dripped onto the paper, she let go.

"Thank you, dear." She declared without looking at you. "Now let's find out how close they are."

You gasp in surprise when your blood moves on the paper, circling around the lines of the map. Agatha makes a noise with her mouth in contentment.

"Ah, judging by the speed, I'm sure they used the thestrals." She comments. "I suppose Miss Quinn joined the quest in the end."

You look at the professor with confusion, but she is already raising her fingers to your forehead.

"Let's take a peek." She declaims, and you feel your skin burn where she touches it. Your vision dims for a second before you see the sky.

You are mounted on something, and you look around to see all your friends mounted on thestrals, flying beside you. You want to ask what is going on, but soon realize that you are just watching.

"Are we far away?" Gamora asks beside you.

"No! Just a few more minutes." It is Tony who answers from the front horse. He looks upset, all of them do in fact.

You want to shout to ask, but your vision dims and you are back on your feet.

Agatha lets out an impatient sigh as you pant in pain, trying to understand exactly what is going on.

"It's a pity." She mumbles to herself and you force yourself to ask.

"What is it?"

"Mephisto takes no prisoners, Miss Stark." She replies. "I hadn't expected your friends to interfere, it's really a pity. Perhaps you should already pick out a dress for the memorial ceremony."

"What are you talking about?"

"In reality it's your fault of course." She declares with a mischievous giggle and you stare at her in confusion. Agatha sighs humorously, as if what she is telling you is obvious. "Silly girl, the cloak of course! The legendary invisibility cloak that you lent to your dear brother."

"What?"

Agatha rolled her eyes.

"It's not funny when you don't know what I'm talking about." She commented impatiently and leaned against one of the pillars of the hall, her arms crossed. "But I think we have time until they reach the ministry, so let's talk a little."

You think the effect of the potion is wearing off too quickly, but you force yourself to keep your gaze on Agatha.

"The story is much simpler than you might imagine, of course." She begins. "I needed to find a way to help Wanda unleash her power completely, and you were the solution to all my problems." She says with a nostalgic chuckle, and you look at her wide-eyed.

Your vision is darkening again, and Agatha notices by your tired expression, so she lets out a laughing exclamation and moves around the room. When she returns, there is a wooden compartment in her arms, which she lays on the floor. You notice the dozens of small glass jars, and she forces you to drink another one.

"Dear, Dear, there you go. There's no reason to look so pale, you just need a little encouragement." She smiles at her own pun, and you move your head to push her touch away, making her laugh before turning away.

"Where was I? "Oh yes, in the beginning." She asks rhetorically, her posture amused. "I'm going to assume that Erik told you about the nature of Wanda's powers, dear, it would be sad to know that he didn't after so much."

"He did." You grumble and Agatha smiles.

"Oh, great." She says. "Well, of course he said what I told him, of course. But he couldn't know everything. He wouldn't approve of my methods. As a father and as a wizard I suppose."

You sighed lightly, your body was shaking, like a fever, but the potion was keeping you pain-free.

"Professor..."

"Don't interrupt!" She cuts off quickly, but her tone is amused. "What an education you've been giving at Hufflepuff, my goodness. Maybe the hat should have sent you to Gryffindor, you would have learned better about manners."

You clenched your jaw and Agatha giggled a little before continuing.

"I told Erik that you two should stay apart, and he bought that story like the fool he always was." She comments with amusement and you feel your stomach sink.

"Was it you?"

"Don't make that face, honey." She says. "I couldn't risk you getting in my way."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Agatha sighs impatiently.

"Your bond, Miss Stark!" she retorts as if it were obvious, "I needed to shape Wanda's progress according to my agenda. If you were around her, you could develop the bond and your abilities would be a problem."

You looked at her with confusion and Agatha took another look at the map before looking back at you.

"They are arriving, shall we take another peek?"

"Tell me what you want to say!" You ask, but the witch just ignores you while touching your forehead again. You gasp in pain, but this vision is quicker.

You see a dark concrete, and a tall door. And then Agatha brings you back.

"Great, they're at the ministry." She mumbles as she releases you, you gasp helplessly, your head weighing down. But Agatha brings another vial of potion to your lips. "This is going to get a lot worse before it gets better I'm sorry to say, Miss."

You motion for her to take the bottle from your lips, but she insists that you drink it all and only backs away when you do.

"What do you know about my bond with Wanda?" You question next, feeling the elixir kick in again.

"Everything." She states simply and you look at her. "How it was made, how to break it and how to improve it."

Agatha draws her wand toward you again and you widen your eyes.

"Let's make sure she remembers why she''s there, dear." She speaks before bewitching you.

You watch yourself being tortured again, but now the shelves are full.

When you return, you fall flat on your face on the floor.

Agatha approaches with a grimace, pulling your hair to make you look at her again, and you grunt in pain.

"Do you need another potion or can you stay awake?" She asks.

"Fuck you."

Agatha laughed and let go of your hair, you managed to keep your head away from the floor by millimeters.

"I'm being so nice and you so badly behaved."

"You chained me to the ground." You retort with indignation.

Agatha rolls her eyes, crossing her arms as she leans against the pillar again.

"This is only to keep you from disappearing." She comments causing you to raise your eyebrows. "Oh, right, I forgot that you have no idea what I'm talking about."

You grumble in pain, but don't interrupt.

"As I was saying, I know all about your magical bonding, dear." She says. "It took some time, but I managed to figure it all out. And that's exactly why I kept you away from Wanda this year."

"Why?"

"Because I want Wanda's magic for myself, of course."

You let out an exclamation of surprise and anger, but before you could say anything else, your body tensed all at once, and you felt your heart soar as if it were racing.

"W-what's happening?" You muttered in confusion, feeling the adrenaline wake up your senses. Agatha looked at you intently, moving away from the pillar to look at you more closely. She touched the side of your faces, assessing you.

"You can feel the danger she is in can't you?" She asked with fascination in her voice and gaze. You gasped, feeling the room getting smaller. "It is absolutely magnificent to witness such power."

"What did you do?" you ask with difficulty. "Where is Wanda?"

Agatha laughs as she walks away. She moves around the room again and you think she is going to go back to her original position, but she makes a motion with her hands and floats in the air. She sits down with her legs crossed and stands at the same height as you.

"Sorry, Miss Stark." She says with her palms up and lying in the air. "We've reached the part where it's going to become very painful."

The candles around you float at head height, and the flames light up, but they are blue. You also notice the runes glowing on the walls.

"Please." You plead but Agatha doesn't answer you, all she says are words in a language you don't recognize.

When she falls silent, you wait for the pain to come, but all is quiet.

"It's done." She announces with a sigh.

"What's done?"

"Now she can become a scarlet witch for good."

"Professor what..."

But your voice dies in your throat as you feel a sharp pang in your chest and gasp breathlessly. A whistle hissing in your ear, and a sharp pain takes over your entire body in the next second.

You don't need much to deduce that Wanda is suffering.

"Stop it!" You beg as you hug your own body, feeling your skin burn. "Please stop hurting her!"

"Focus, Stark." You hear Agatha's voice in your head. It's hard to push through the pain to pay attention.

"Let me go!" You plead but you have the impression that it is only in your thoughts. You know that your body is screaming in pain. "Let me save her! Wanda!"

"Pay attention, girl!" It's Agatha again. "You never needed to be with her to protect her. Concentrate. Don't let her get hurt."

Agatha's sentence echoes in your head for many minutes, until her voice replaces the pain.

You open your eyes, but cannot see the room. There is a golden light all around you, and it takes a moment to realize that it is your hands and eyes that are glowing.

"What?" you gasp in confusion but your body is shaking again and you can taste blood in your mouth.

"Not yet, honey." Agatha says and you realize she is still in the room. You blink, trying to see her, but all you can see is the light. You can barely feel the chains, but they are still on your wrists. "Just a little longer. He needs to use the curse."

"Professor, what's going on?" You try but there is no answer. The pain returns and your body hangs forward, but you rest your hands on the floor, panting. "Please help me."

"Help yourself." Says the woman. "What will make the pain stop?"

"Wanda." The answer escapes in a sigh and you can barely keep your eyes open.

"Then go to her."

And then your vision dims.

You think you are falling into a portal key, because it feels the same. But you land before reaching the ground.

Everything is muffled, and you look around to see spell lights.

You see your friends dueling wizards you don't recognize, in a place you know as the Ministry of Magic.

You know because it is like your childhood memories, on the rare occasions when you were with Tony and your father in search of some package.

But it's empty now, except for the wizards fighting.

Your friends are losing, you know by the way the masked men are surrounding everyone in the corner.

But you're not looking for that.

Your attention is on the girl in the center, the bright red light surrounding her hands.

Your body immediately relaxes at the sight of her, and you walk on.

Wanda is also struggling. Her energy escapes from her hand towards the black-clad sorcerer, who has a devilish grin on his face, but who seems pleased to see so much power.

You lift your hand to touch her face, and then the sound returns.

The effect of your touch on Wanda's skin is immediate.

Her magic explodes in her hands, creating a force field that pushes Mephisto and the walkers meters away.

The leader lets out a laugh as he falls backwards, while his followers stare at the scene with confusion, surprised by the sudden blow.

Wanda falls to her knees, and you stoop down to the level of her face, raising your hands to your face.

"Wanda? Can you hear me?" You call out, but it is as you thought, she cannot. Neither she can see you. But something makes you believe she can feel you. You sigh watching her try to pull herself together.

Mephisto stands up and waves for his followers to stand still.

Wanda stands in front of her friends. You swallow dryly, and stand beside her.

"Your protector is here, isn't he?" The man questions with a murderous look on his face. "I can feel it."

"Where is she?" Wanda asks angrily, but the wizard continues to smile.

"Do you really think I would risk exposure to steal your girlfriend from the castle, Miss Maximoff?" The wizard retorts. "You are as foolish as your father."

Wanda raises her hands again. You feel your body tingle.

"I won't ask again." She says and Mephisto's gaze flashes with irritation.

"It is I who will not repeat myself, miss." He strikes back and points his wand toward Wanda in a quick motion. You see the green light approaching in slow motion, and your feet are already moving forward.

The Death Curse hits you in the chest, but all you feel is the tingling in the back of your head, and all they see, is a golden light.

"This is getting embarrassing for you." Wanda teases the wizard, and you want to smile, but you are feeling your connection grow weak, the atmosphere begins to glaze over.

"I've had enough of games." Mephisto speaks impatiently, and moves his wand toward the fountain in the center in the hallway. Water pours out of the marble and rises to the ceiling, forming a three-headed serpent. "I'll just drown your friends and eliminate a few names from the list of blood traitors."

"No!" Wanda says as she throws an energy ball at the sorcerer, but he deflects it with ease. The water Hydra moves and Wanda attacks again.

You think the water will reach your friends, but the ministry's Floo powder fireplaces are lighting up and the order's wizards are coming out of there.

Mephisto's smile fades. His followers begin to duel, and he forms a shield to stop Wanda's attacks while turning to look at the incoming aurors, as you watch Hydra's enchantment being controlled and undone.

It is satisfying to see Mephisto choke in surprise as the rest of the Ministry officials begin to Apparate and use the floo powder net to arrive on the scene.

You see the expression of pure shock when the Minister of Magic sees the sorcerer, before Mephisto apparates and disappears.

There is an immediate commotion afterwards, the aurors of the order preventing the walkers from fleeing and the rest of the officials looking on at the scene of the fight with confusion.

The atmosphere is getting stuffy again, so you turn to Wanda again, and she has tears in her eyes as she looks around.

Erik reaches her within the next minute.

"Darling!" He says hugging her with concern, but Wanda sobs and he pulls away looking into her eyes. "What happened?"

"I couldn't find her, papa." She cries. "I looked everywhere."

Erik shakes his head.

"Wanda, Miss Stark is safe." He assures you and you frown. "It was a false vision dear, she was never here."

Wanda gasps in confusion, you want to touch her but can barely keep yourself watching.

"But i saw..."

"I know dear, but it wasn't true." Erik interrupts, "Let's go back to the castle, I'll tell you everything. But breathe, okay, she's safe."

Wanda nods, and you feel her exhaustion invade your body immediately. The aurors of the order help your friends, and you watch Erik help Wanda walk to the fireplaces, and the realization that she is safe is enough for you to surrender to the darkness.

//-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-//

You know something is different the moment you open your eyes.

Maybe the way all the sounds invade your ears at once, and you grumble, trying to figure out if you have a headache or just reject the sudden gain in consciousness.

There is no pain, though, you notice.

There is only softness and lightness.

You blink a few times, and understand that you are lying on a bed. Straightening up, you eventually identify the room. It is an infirmary, but it is not Hogwarts. You frown in confusion, and straighten to sit up.

It looks like a hospital room, and there are other beds a few meters away, but they are empty. You also notice the "get well soon" balloons and the gift wrappings and food baskets on top of the cabinet at the end of the bed.

When you notice the sleeping figure in the armchair next to you, you gasp in surprise.

"Wanda!" You call out with a mixture of shock and relief.

The girl opens her eyes sleepily and then widens them when she realizes that you are looking at her curiously, babbling about what had happened and if she was okay. All Wanda does is let out a tearful laugh and jump at you, her arms around your neck as she hugs you tightly.

"Hey, is everything okay?" You ask fearfully, letting your arms encircle her waist and pulling her into bed with you. Wanda buries her face in your neck, and you want to close your eyes to enjoy the feeling of having her so close, but you are too curious to know about everything. "Wanda?"

"Fuck I was so worried." She sighs against your skin before pulling away, and you frown, looking into her watery eyes. You reach out to caress her face and she smiles as she leans into your touch, one hand rising to yours on her cheek.

"What happened?" You ask and she shakes her head slightly.

"A lot." She says. "But everyone is fine. You...merlin...you're here."

Wanda rests her forehead against yours and you both close your eyes.

"Where else would I be?"

She doesn't answer, just presses your lips together in a sweet but firm kiss. You feel your whole body shiver all at once, and gasp in surprise.

Wanda pulls away with a sigh and hugs you again, and you decide to give yourself over to the feeling, inhaling her perfume as you bury your face in her hair and feel your whole body relax all at once.

"Finally!" Your brother's voice startles you slightly, but you don't have much time to absorb his sudden presence in the room, because soon all your friends are entering as well, and Wanda is breaking the embrace so that your brothers will hug you and then your friends.

As soon as you hug everyone, and receive pats on the shoulder and questions about how you are feeling from the adults, you intertwine your hand with Wanda, who remains sitting next to you on the bed. The feeling brings you an instant sense of safety.

"Can someone tell me how I got here now?" You ask just as Carol Danvers turns away from you and stands next to Erik and Fury, who are in the corner next to Mantis and Harley, all squeezed around your bed.

"What's the last thing you remember, YN?" It is Tony who asks and you frown.

"The room with Professor Harkness, I think." You say feeling your stomach turn. Wanda's touch tightens a little, and you appreciate the sensation. Many flashes pass through your mind at once, and you use your free hand to massage your forehead lightly. "I think I remember a spell... Professor!" You exclaim suddenly looking at Erik, remembering the schoolmistress's words. "Agatha, she was the one who planned everything... the ministry, the prophecy! She knew everything and...!"

"Calm down, miss Stark." The professor interrupts with a nod. "We already know about what happened in the dungeon."

"Oh, okay." You mumble clumsily. "H-how did I get out of there?"

Erik exchanges a look with Wanda before turning back to you.

"Your last memory, Miss Stark, what would it be? Do you only remember talking to Agatha?"

"If you call torture talking." You mumble clumsily, and Wanda squeezes your hand hard, making you bite your tongue. "Hey." You say to her, but she doesn't let go of the grip. She says nothing, and you sigh. "Yes, professor. I just remember being within the spell. And then I woke up here."

Erik clears his throat and you think this is the time he's going to ask everyone to leave, but he hasn't.

"Well, then we have to update you on some important things, miss." He says as he puts his hands in his pockets. "I believe Doctor McCoy would prefer to talk to you first however, and he is looking at this small crowd with a certain disapproval."

You frown at the phrase, but there is a man dressed in aqua green approaching the bed and beckoning your friends to stand back. It's the healer in charge, you read the little plaque with the name "Doctor Hank McCoy" on the coat as he asks everyone not to be so on top of you.

"Good morning, Miss Stark, it's very good to see you awake at last. How are you feeling?" He asks as you approach, you squeeze Wanda's hand as soon as she makes mention of getting up. She gets a slight flush on her cheeks, but ignores the doctor's gaze and continues sitting next to you. Hank realizing that the witch won't move away, decides to approach you from the other side of the bed, a metal stethoscope in position on his neck and hands.

"I'm fine." You say with a smile.

"Let's make sure you are." He says as he places the object against your chest. "Take a deep breath, please."

The check is quick, and a little awkward as everyone is looking at you. Doctor Hank grabs a wooden clipboard as soon as he's finished.

"You've recovered almost completely, that's impressive." He comments sounding pleased and you look at him curiously.

"Was I sick?"

Hank gives a little laugh and then frowns, realizing that you really were curious. He clears his throat.

"Are you experiencing memory loss?" He asks looking at you intently. You swallow dryly, pulling away slightly as you feel the blue orbs analyzing you so intently. "It's a common symptom for this type of magical occurrence, of course, though it's a more recurring one in patients who have experienced the cruciatus curse."

"Doctor?"

Hank straightens his body again, putting his hands in his pockets.

"What is your last memory of the ritual, miss?"

"Ritual?" You ask confused.

"The bonding ritual, Miss Stark." He clarifies. "Your family members explained to the team that you were in the custody of a dark witch and went through a level five rated magical binding ritual against your will."

"I..."

"Doctor McCoy, please." Erik interrupts with an embarrassed smile. "We haven't had a chance to talk to her about everything. Perhaps some less technical language."

"Oh, yes, of course." Hank agreed with a smile, and his posture became much friendlier. "What exactly do you remember, Miss?"

"Only to be caught in a spell doctor." You reply. "My professor, she used some runes on the walls and tried to keep me trapped. It was... quite unpleasant if you ask me." You recount feeling really uncomfortable. "I didn't really understand what happened."

"Don't worry, we know what happened." Hank says. "From a medical point of view at least." He jokes and Erik smiles, but you are too nervous to do so. "Sorry, but the room is too crowded. Why don't you all wait outside while I talk to Miss Stark?"

Your friends let out a disgruntled exclamation together, but Carol and Fury are already pushing everyone out.

"She can stay, right?" you ask quickly and Doctor Hank gives a chuckle.

"I wouldn't try to keep you and Miss Maximoff apart anymore in any manner at all." He comments and you look at him with confusion.

Erik also stays in the room, standing at the end of the bed. Wanda strokes your hand with her thumb as the doctor speaks again, and you want to pay attention to his words rather than her touch, but it is a difficult task.

Hank sits on the edge at the height of your knee.

"You have undergone a magical bonding ritual, Miss Stark." He begins. "More precisely, through a kind of spell to strengthen a magical bond that already exists in you. In this case, your bond with Miss Maximoff."

The doctor adjusts his glasses slightly as soon as you nod in understanding.

"That kind of spell is very dangerous by itself, Miss." He says. "But it is even more so when done without the consent of those involved."

Hank gropes his pockets and then takes out his own wand, extending it into the air with a smooth motion. You watch intently as two golden figures resembling two people appear in front of you.

He also draws a thread connecting them at chest height.

"What we know about natural protective magical bonds, Miss, is that they act as a string of energy between the bodies of the witches who are connected." He narrates as he signals the golden magical wave with his finger. "That string stretches, and bends, and can only be broken in three ways. With the length of the magic contract, the withdrawal of the spell, or the death of one of the witches. And in this third, if the witch to whom the link refers, dies before the other, the other will suffer the same fate, since the link remains intact."

"Doctor, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I already knew that information." You comment clumsily, but the adults don't seem annoyed, they just giggle. You are surprised to realize that you know Wanda thought it was funny even without looking at her.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, I'm getting there." He hits back with a chuckle. Hank makes another motion with his wand, and this time, an energy rune appears between the figures in the center of the link, and you frown as you recognize the image.

"It looks like the one Professor Harkness drew on the floor." You comment.

"It's exactly the same." Hank says. "This is rune needed for the power release spell. Ancient magic, very powerful." He counters. "It was common for witches to use this kind of spell in the wild, before magic societies were fully formed, since no one learned how to grow their own power through study and practice. Other methods were used before the schools of magic existed."

"What did she do to me, doctor?" You ask fearfully, understanding where the conversation was going. Doctor Hank exchanged a look with Professor Erik.

"Well, Mrs. Harkness wanted to rush things, I believe." He says. "You see, magical connections are very unstable magics, Miss. Especially if done between living things." He adds and moves his wand again. The rune multiplies and lands on the chest of each of the figures. "The ritual that Agatha performed served to stimulate the full magical potency of your connection all at once."

"But what does that mean?"

"It means that after that night, she merged your magic and Miss Maximoff's magic as one." Hank clarified and you frowned, trying to understand exactly what that signified. Seeing your expression, Professor Erik cleared his throat and approached the side of the bed, close to Wanda.

"What will happen now, Miss Stark, will be the peak of a magical bond." He says with a worried look, and you look at him curiously. "You two will both present new powers, and you will need to learn how to control all of them."

You ran your fingers lightly through your hair, sighing.

"You still haven't told me how I ended up here." You grumbled slightly impatiently. The teacher hesitated, but then told you.

"Agatha underestimated the power of your bond with Wanda." He said and you were about to question what that meant when he spoke again. "The ritual served to potentiate the Scarlet Witch's magic, using your body as a bridge for contact, since through the connection between you, she was able to force Wanda's magic to evolve."

You looked at Wanda, but she was looking at your hands entwined together.

"Is everything okay with you?" You asked her immediately, and she raised her eyes to you. Nodding in agreement, she gave you a shy smile. You wished you were alone with her.

"Agatha wanted to use the bond just to stimulate Wanda's magic to its full potential, and she knew she could use your magical bond to do that." The professor then added. "But, I don't know if you remember, Miss Stark, as we talked about earlier in the year, there are limits to what the human body can handle. Just like you, Wanda didn't even come of age yet. Her magic simply wasn't ready."

"And that's when the magical bond between you two interrupted the spell." The doctor added and you widened your eyes slightly. He waved his wand so that the illusion of the figures shattered. "You see, Miss, you have a protective bond with Miss Maximoff. The minute the spell became strong enough to injure her, your magic merged with hers, and all was restrained. The ritual was immediately interrupted."

"You may not remember, but Agatha took you to the ministry." Erik said next and grimaced slightly. "Well, not exactly brought, but projected you. She was the one who set up the visions in Wanda's head so that she would see you wounded and fight Mephisto again. All the danger she was going through triggered the bond. And then she could project your consciousness to Wanda, giving her the power to face Mephisto in a duel."

"I don't remember that." You mutter, scratching the back of your neck lightly.

"Don't worry." Hank adds. "It was a very intensive magical exhaustion, I'm sure your memories will gradually come back. If not, Miss Maximoff can help you." He jokes and you frown in confusion, but the doctor is already getting up. "Well, I need to check on other patients, I'll come visit you later. Try to eat something before I get back, okay? You should still be here for a few days, until we're sure you're fully recovered."

You thanked the doctor before he left. Erik cleared his throat.

"Do you have any other questions?"

"Many sir." You say making him laugh lightly. But then you sigh. "But I wanted to stay with Wanda for a while."

Erik nods in understanding, and exchanges a look with his daughter before turning to leave.

You straighten to lie down and look at Wanda and she mimics your movement, but looks up at the ceiling.

"Wanda?" You call out and wait for her to turn her face toward you. A sense of lightness and assurance immediately invades your chest at having the green orbs stare at you. "How do you feel?"

She gives you a short smile, and straightens up to turn her whole body toward you. It's uncomfortable to hold your hands like this, so she lets go, but raises her fingers to your face, tracing your features.

"I feel different." She confesses. Every touch of her fingers is warm and comforting. "What about you?"

"Different too." You reply, resisting the urge to close your eyes. "But a good different."

Wanda smiles, shaking her head in agreement. You are silent for a moment, Wanda using her thumb to caress your cheek tenderly, and you let your gaze on her mouth.

"Why were you almost crying when I woke up?" You ask next, and her body tenses before she sighs. You look into her eyes, waiting.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you." She mumbles and you shake your head, bringing your faces closer together. Wanda sighs and brings her hand to the back of your neck as you press your foreheads together. "I can't talk about it."

"Show me then." You ask and she closes her eyes just before you close yours.

The visions hit you in the next second.

You see the false memories Agatha implanted in her, they were images of you being tortured in the ministry, your screams echoing among the corridors. You feel Wanda's desperation, her helplessness, the way her heart squeezed and the despair at every door she opened in the ministry and could not find you.

You gasp when you see the duel with Mephisto again, feeling your own touch in Wanda's magic, the way she had never felt so powerful, every cell vibrating.

A surprised sigh escapes when you see Wanda being carried back to the castle, as she feels her whole body tired but cannot close her eyes without hearing from you. You feel her tears when Professor Erik lets her see the state of the dungeon where Agatha imprisoned you, and the yearning when she sees your blood on the chains and on the floor.

The anger when her father tries to send her to sleep, and she insists on going to the hospital with your family, and the way her body shakes when she sees you on a stretcher unconscious.

Your own image scares you. The deep wounds on your wrists and ankles, made by the iron chains you have broken. The rune cut on your forehead, bright and red, and the blood that dripped down your nose, ears and mouth.

You feel the way Pietro's tight embrace, or his words of affirmation, assuring her that the healers will heal you, helps Wanda relax, but you also see how it's not enough. How all Wanda needs is for you to be at her side.

The feeling of fear and insecurity that lingers in Wanda's chest during the days she lies beside you in bed, waiting for you to wake up. Unsuccessful in sensing your thoughts even when she tries to sneak up on you during the nurses' shift change.

And then the sense of relief when seeing you open your eyes.

You gasp out the memories, feeling yours and Wanda's tears too.

"Oh, my love, I'm so sorry." You ask in a hoarse voice. "I should have woken up sooner."

Wanda lets out a tearful laugh, shaking her head.

"It's okay." She assures. "I'm just glad you did."

You smile, bringing your fingers together to take a strand of hair from Wanda's eyes and place it behind her ears.

"I will always be by your side, Wanda." You say. "I promise."

Wanda sighs, opening her eyes again. You use your thumb to wipe away the tears that have trickled down her face.

There is a moment of silence, and then your heart soars at her words.

"I know about the prophecy."

You look away before looking at her again.

"I'm sorry." You say. "I should have told you."

"Yes, you should have." She retorts seriously, but she doesn't sound angry. "But it's over now. And now everyone knows."

You widen your eyes, and probably sensing the way you've grown anxious, Wanda firms the touch of her hand on the side on your neck, murmuring lightly.

"Don't worry, eventually everyone would find out." She says and you swallow dryly.

"H-how did they know?"

"That's why Mephisto was in the Ministry." She explains. "He was looking for the prophecy in the mystery department. Steve found it first."

You swallowed dryly and Wanda continued to tell.

"I think he hesitated to tell Tony for a moment." She says. "But then he did. And then everyone knew. My father told the order as soon as you were admitted."

"How did Tony take it?" you asked fearfully and Wanda sighed.

"Better than I did if you ask me." She grumbled and you smiled shyly. "He only calmed down when they poured some potion for him. And well, I broke Dad's nose so it didn't really go down too well."

"Wow, you did what?" you ask in surprise, and Wanda grumbles, tucking her head into her pillow. You giggle, digging into her hair with your fingers. "I want to see that one."

Wanda chuckles against the cotton before looking back at you. She shows you the memory next. Everyone around the St.Mungus waiting room when Steve arrives accompanied by Erik and he tells everyone the truth. You see Tony squirming and being calmed down by two nurses, and you can feel Wanda's irritation and indignation as she looks at the "I was doing the right thing" expression her father has on his face. And how the feeling explodes in her chest when he comes to say he was trying to keep her safe and she just punches him in the face.

You gasp out of the memory with an impressed laugh, moving from the image of Erik with a bloody nose to Wanda with flushed cheeks, impacted by the way your laughter makes her heart soar.

"I can't believe you punched your father in the face." You tease with amusement and Wanda laughs lightly, reaching out to rest her arm on your waist. Her hand caresses your back gently.

"If he hadn't kept us apart none of this would have happened." She mumbles bitterly and you sigh.

"He thought he was helping." You retort but Wanda just hums. You let out an exclamation next as you remember something. "Wanda, you didn't tell me you were having nightmares! Are they still happening?"

Wanda sighs, denying with her head.

"No, not since the ministry." She says. "Papa hasn't figured out what they are, and now we can't count on Professor Harkness to help us find out. But since I fought Mephisto at the ministry, they've stopped."

"Why didn't you tell me about them?"

"Because they were about you." She retorts as if it's obvious. "I didn't want to worry you anymore. Not when all I do is cause you problems."

The confession catches you completely off guard. And Wanda's guilty tone breaks your heart. She is looking down at the sheet and you let out an incredulous laugh.

"That's so very far from the truth, my dear." You say as you catch her chin between your fingers, and make her look at you gently. "You have no idea how good you do me, do you Wanda?"

"I..."

"It' s okay, now I can show you." You interrupt with a shy smile, bringing your lips together in a gentle kiss.

Everything feels more intense now. It's a simple touch, but it warms your whole body. You leave your fingers at the nape of her neck as you slide your tongue against hers, and you both sigh with the touch.

It feels so good to kiss Wanda, it warms your whole body from head to toe, but remembering that you are in a hospital bed, just as a familiar warmth begins to form at the tip of your stomach when Wanda's hand squeezes the fabric of your shirt and her tongue moves against yours slowly, you sigh as you break the kiss.

You smile at the image of Wanda's swollen lips and ajar, dark eyes.

"Why did you stop?" she asks breathlessly, her voice husky. You raise your eyebrows in amusement.

"Baby, our families and friends are in the next room." You clarify and Wanda mumbles, coming closer to rest her forehead on yours. Her hand squeezed the fabric before adorning your t-shirt, her fingers on your skin making you shiver slightly. "Behave."

Wanda giggles mischievously, pecking your lips before moving away. You feel your body relax completely as you gaze into her emerald eyes, but the moment is broken when your friends are back in the room.

Ignoring the hissing and the giggles, you tuck yourself into bed so that Wanda can snuggle up next to you.

Things are going to be different now, you know. But something tells you that as long as you have Wanda's hand in yours, you'll be fine.

//-//-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-//-//

Tag list> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #avengers imagines #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x yn #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fic #The Scarlet Witch Prophecy #wanda x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #harry potter au

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imkylotrash · 3 years

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Glitter In The Air

Pairing: Sky x reader

Request: The reader is the girl Stella blinded and no one believes her that it was Stella not even Sky in the beginning. But in the end they end up back together. Anonymous

A/N If you want to know where I took inspiration from, it’s Glitter in the Air by Pink 💛

Tagging: @grey-girl @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @intoanothermind @artsyle @baueoud @glowingatdawn

As you enter the dining hall, you feel everyone stare at you. You don’t need to be able to see to know you’re the centre of attention. You can still see shadows so your vision hasn’t been completely lost but Stella ruined your eyes forever that day. You’d never be able to see your mom’s face again or look at the boy you loved. You inch forward getting some food before sitting down. It’s only the second day since you got back, but everyone has treated you like a complete freak for those 48 hours. No one believed Stella had done this to you, not even Sky.

You’d spent months in the hospital waiting for him to call you or even just text you but he hadn’t. Instead you’d waited by the phone feeling lonely and pathetic. Of course, he didn’t believe you. No one did. Except he was your boyfriend when it happened and you really thought he would care. He was the only one you counted on to have your back but for some reason he took Stella’s side.

“Hey. Is anyone sitting here?” You look up before realising it doesn’t change much for you. It’s a habit that’s been hard to shake - the need to make eye contact, inspect the face in front of you. Having been robbed of the possibility, you found it mattered even more to you now than before.

“No, it’s fine.” You don’t recognise her voice which means she must be a first year. The only year that wouldn’t know what had happened to you. Carefully, you remove the sunglasses you’ve been wearing waiting for the person to notice. You’ve been told that your eyes look charred as if your eyes had been on fire. Suppose with Stella’s powers they had.

“What’s your name?” the stranger asks completely ignoring your eyes. It’s weird but nice. You like not having to explain it or be called a liar when people refuse to believe your story.

“Y/N. You?”

“Bloom. I just started and I didn’t see anyone I knew so I figured I could sit with you.” Of course, she thought so. It’s easy sitting down next to the outcast. Tomorrow, she’ll not want to sit with you when she realises what’s happened.

“Please. Don’t slum down.” Now that voice you’d recognise anywhere. A chill spreads down your spine just by hearing her talk. You can’t believe you have to go to school with the perpetrator just because she’s the princess of Solaria and you’re the poor girl who no one believed.

“Stella! This is Y/N. She’s really nice.” Bloom seems outraged over Stella’s comment but it’s far from the worst Stella has said to you.

“It’s fine, Bloom. I’m done anyway,” you smile before carefully following the wall down the hall. It’s a good thing you have a mental map of Alfea so you actually know where you’re going. You’d needed to learn it for a prank where getting away quickly had been crucial. That was when the two boys, Sky and Riven, still talked to you.

“1, 2, 3, 4...” You’re not prepared for someone turning the corner and walking right into you. If it hadn’t been for them catching you, you would’ve fallen ass down.

“Thank!” you exclaim finding your place on the wall again. You could go years without touching him and still recognise him immediately. Electricity cackles between your skin and his. He’s holding you so gently, you feel like crying again but you’re not going to. He had every chance to believe you and stand up for you, but he didn’t.

“No, I’m sorry. I should watch where I’m going.” His voice brings back memories you’ve been trying to avoid. Picnic on the field with you feeding him a strawberry and then absolutely cracking up because it turned out to be the most unsexy thing ever. Him asking you to close your eyes and trust him because he had something huge planned; a trip to Earth. That was the place he picked because he knew how much you loved small villages and the countryside in England was perfect for exploring and finding tiny villages that had stayed under the radar of tourism.

“I guess we’re both sorry then.” You don’t know what else to say because what do you say to the boy who refused to believe you when you told him how you got hurt? You wanted him to apologise and say he believed you. Instead he walks past you mumbling something about being late for class. You don’t meet him again until the specialists’ party. You hear Riven use your story as a horror story meant to scare of Bloom but if you know Sky right, she’s not even his type. That’s what sets this whole thing in motion. You’re about to leave when he corners you. His breath smells like cheap beer and punch letting you know that he hasn’t been taking it easy tonight.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers leaning his forehead on your shoulder. You want to push him away and tell him to never talk to you again but god, you’ve missed him.

“Sorry for what?” you ask standing completely still. It’s been months since anyone’s touched you. The doctors tried to but you hated being touched. Ever since Stella blinded you, you’d been struggling with being touched but Sky was the exception.

“Riven told Bloom about you and I defended Stella. But when I confronted her, she admitted to it. She admitted to blinding you and I didn’t believe you all those months ago.” You feel something wet hit your shoulder and it takes a second for you to realise that he’s crying. It’s hot, fresh tears because he didn’t believe you.

“Why didn’t you believe me when I told you?” This is not the right time. He’s drunk and emotional. Your therapist would most definitely scold you for this because all you’re doing is ask for trouble.

“Because I’m an idiot. I have no real reason other than I got swept away with everyone else believing Stella over you. I should’ve questioned her explanation much sooner.” It’s everything you’ve dreamed of hearing but it clings hollow when you think about the fact that he’s drunk right now. He might think differently in the light of day.

“You’re drunk. Come find me tomorrow if you still want to apologise then.” You gently take a step to the side breaking the contact between you and Sky. After that you go straight to bed anxious for the next day. Even if he shows up, it’ll still be a lot of work for you to be able to trust him again. He broke your heart siding with Stella and you’re not sure you could go through that again.

He finds you the next night asking you to follow him. It takes your breath away seeing his shadow but knowing you’ll never again be able to enjoy his face. You can’t believe how much Stella took from you that day and all because she was jealous.

“I still want to apologise,” he says once you’re finally outside. The moon is so huge and bright today that you can vaguely spot it. Something that doesn’t happen often anymore. The healers did an amazing job on your eyes even though they didn’t manage to fix them entirely.

“I never should’ve believed Stella. And I can think of a million excuse but you deserve better than that. So, I’ll just say that I’m sorry and I take full responsibilities for what happened between the two of us. I should’ve believed you and stood by you.” It’s nice for someone to finally believe you but you’re hesitant taking him back. What about next time something happens? Will he not believe you then?

“How can I trust that?” you ask.

“By letting me show you. I know I don’t deserve a second chance but I promise you this time I’ll be different. If you ask me to, I’ll do anything for you. I’ll climb up and bring back a piece of the moon if that’s what you want me to do.”

“What if I want the full moon?”

“Then I’ll bring you the full moon. I just need you to know how deeply sorry I am for ever hurting you and abandoning you when you needed me the most.” You don’t want this night to end. You’ve waited so long to hear him say this and now he’s saying everything you hoped for.

“I would need to take it slow. I want to trust you, but...” You wish he’d touch you so that you could him there. It’s not the same just hearing his voice.

“I get it. I wouldn’t either if the roles were reversed. But I promise I’ll spend the rest of our lives making up for this.” He’s close enough for you to feel his breath hit your skin. He’s letting you decide if you want to close the gap and in turn agree to a second chance.

“I can’t get hurt like that again,” you whisper fighting a losing battle against the tears forming in your eyes.

“I know, sugar.” You close the gap unable to resist any longer. Hearing his old nickname for you is what tips the boat. Some might say you’re an idiot for believing him and forgiving him but the heart wants what the heart wants. You want to give him a second chance to prove that’s matured over the past months.

“Thank you for giving me a second chance.” As you struggle a little to catch your breath, you can’t help but think that it’ll never be better than tonight.

#sky x reader #sky blurb #sky imagine #sky gif #sky #winx sky #sky of eraklyon #fate the winx saga #fate winx club #fate the winx club #winx club #winx saga #fate winx #fate #fate netflix

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 years

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I’ll be honest: twenty minutes into British as Folk, I nearly turned it off and decided to not actually watch this show that’s been on my list since it came out a few months ago. I was intrigued by the concept of a show where they go to different regions of Britain and tell us about them! That’s pretty much right up my alley, as a non-British person who has gotten so into British television that I have made a point of learning what the different regions are just so I can get the references that get made to them. I have put way too much time into learning to hear the difference among accents from various regions. I can label all the counties in England, principal areas in Wales, and council areas in Scotland on a map quite quickly (I wish I could say in “under a minute each”, but record for the English counties remains 1 minute and 10 seconds, to be fair there are a lot of them). And the counties in Ireland, which is not Britain except that some of it technically is.

Anyway, I was looking forward to this show because I hoped we’d see a lot of the places where people live. The first episode opened with a fair bit of comedians visiting tourist attractions, which was not so much what I was hoping for. I mean, it’s cool. But we have space museums in Canada. Those could be anywhere.

It definitely got better though. Still not the best show I’ve ever seen, but better than it was at first. Partly because I got used to the dynamic among the comedians who are leading it, and started enjoying that. I do really like Fern Brady and Darren Harriott. I feel like the show spent a bunch of time at first establishing the premise before relaxing a bit to let whatever the comedians are doing show through. Still not as much as they would if they were left to their own devices like in a stand-up show or even a panel show (I mean, panel shows are partially written beforehand and edited afterward, but I don’t think they’re curated quite to this extent), but I think that’s what’s to be expected of this sort of Travelogue-type show. They’re not meant to be the peak of comedy. It’s meant to let me see cool places, and after they got past the first twenty minutes or so, it did start doing that.

I’m halfway through episode five (of six) now, and I think I’ve found an explanation for something I haven’t been able to fully explain before: why I sometimes find Ivo Graham quite annoying and sometimes find him funny. An occasional “I am incredibly posh” joke, used when it’s remotely relevant to what’s happening, is quite funny. A comedian whose entire repertoire is those is pretty annoying.

This show is definitely not Ivo Graham at his best, because it really limits the comedians to just putting a few jokes within the script, and they all pretty well stick to their roles. I find maybe 1 in 8 of Ivo’s “I am incredibly posh” jokes funny, and the rest not so much. But he’s funny when he’s not just doing that over and over! There was a bit in the Wales episode when Fern was leading him around a forest blindfolded, for reasons that made only slightly more sense in context, and I thought they were both hilarious in that! Ivo backed off a little on the “I am incredibly posh” jokes in favour of his “I am incredibly awkward” jokes, and I liked those better. I realize those things are related – the idea is that his poshness made him sheltered and that made him awkward. But “awkward and sheltered” is a state with a bit broader relatability.

Realizing that whether I find Ivo Graham funny is so dependent on how hard he’s leaning on his “I am incredibly posh” material made me wonder if that works the other way too, and I don’t think it really does. Throughout this show, I haven’t once found it annoying when Fern Bardy or Darren Harriott do jokes about growing up working class. I thought about comedians who base a lot of their persona on being (or having been) working class, like Lee Mack or Rob Beckett, and… yeah, it can occasionally get too much to keep being as funny, but my threshold for finding that annoying is much higher. It stays funny for longer and gets annoying much more slowly.

I don’t have a great reason for why that’s the case, but it is. Sorry, Ivo, it’s just one of those little double standards in which posh people get the short end of the stick. I feel like Ivo Graham would be the first person to acknowledge that rich people still come out on top enough for this double standard to be basically okay. And really it’s not like this double standard needs to hold Ivo Graham back in his comedy career. He has some great “I am incredibly awkward material”. He should just stick to that a bit more, in my personal and subjective but accurate opinion.

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faraway-wanderer · 3 years

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BOOKS BY ASIAN AUTHORS MASTERLIST #stopasianhate

In light of recent events and the growing anti- Asian hate in the US and UK over the course of the pandemic I wanted to put together a masterlist of books by Asian authors. Obviously, it’s not extensive and there are HUNDREDS out there, but supporting art by Asian creators is a way of showing support; read their stories, educate ourselves. It goes without saying that we should all be putting effort into reading stories of POC and by POC because even through fiction we’re learning about different cultures, countries and heritages. So here’s some books to start with by Asian authors!

Here is a link also for resources to educate and petitions to sign (especially if you don’t read haha). It’s important that we educate ourselves and uplift Asian voices right now. Your anti-racism has to include every minority that faces it.

https://anti-asianviolenceresources.carrd.co/

for UK peeps, this is a good read: We may not hear about the anti Asian racism happening here, but it is definitely happening. https://www.harpersbazaar.com/uk/culture/culture-news/a35692226/its-time-we-stopped-downplaying-the-uks-anti-asian-racism/

THE BOOKS:

· War Cross- Marie Lu ( the worldbuilding in this is IMMENSE.)

For the millions who log in every day, Warcross isn’t just a game—it’s a way of life. The obsession started ten years ago and its fan base now spans the globe, some eager to escape from reality and others hoping to make a profit.

· Star Daughter- Shveta Thakrar

A beautiful story about a girl who is half human and half star, and she must go to the celestial court to try to save her father after he has fallen ill. And before she knows it, she is taking part in a magical competition that she must win!

· These Violent Delights- Chloe Gong (I told my little sister to read this book yesterday bc she has a thing for a Leo as Romeo- so if you want deadly good looking Romeos, badass Juliet’s and to learn about 1920s Shanghai- this is for you.)

The year is 1926, and Shanghai hums to the tune of debauchery. A blood feud between two gangs runs the streets red, leaving the city helpless in the grip of chaos. A Romeo and Juliet retelling.

· The Poppy War- R.F Kuang (My fave fantasy series just fyi- it’s soul crushing in the best way. Rebecca Kuang is a god of an author).

A brilliantly imaginative talent makes her exciting debut with this epic historical military fantasy, inspired by the bloody history of China’s twentieth century and filled with treachery and magic, in the tradition of Ken Liu’s Grace of Kings and N.K. Jemisin’s Inheritance Trilogy.

· Loveboat Taipei- Abigail Hing Wen (Really heartwarming and insightful!)

When eighteen-year-old Ever Wong’s parents send her from Ohio to Taiwan to study Mandarin for the summer, she finds herself thrust among the very over-achieving kids her parents have always wanted her to be, including Rick Woo, the Yale-bound prodigy profiled in the Chinese newspapers since they were nine—and her parents’ yardstick for her never-measuring-up life.

· Sorcerer to the Crown- Zen Cho (if anyone is looking for another Howl’s Moving Castle, look no further than this book)

At his wit’s end, Zacharias Wythe, freed slave, eminently proficient magician, and Sorcerer Royal of the Unnatural Philosophers—one of the most respected organizations throughout all of Britain—ventures to the border of Fairyland to discover why England’s magical stocks are drying up.

· Emergency Contact- Mary H.K. Choi (very wholesome and fun rom-com!)

For Penny Lee high school was a total nonevent. When she heads to college in Austin, Texas, to learn how to become a writer, it’s seventy-nine miles and a zillion light years away from everything she can’t wait to leave behind.

· Jade City- Fonda Lee (I am reading this currently and can I just say- I think everyone who loves fantasy and blood feuds in a story should read this.)

JADE CITY is a gripping Godfather-esque saga of intergenerational blood feuds, vicious politics, magic, and kungfu. The Kaul family is one of two crime syndicates that control the island of Kekon. It's the only place in the world that produces rare magical jade, which grants those with the right training and heritage superhuman abilities.

· A Pho Love Story- Loan Le

When Dimple Met Rishi meets Ugly Delicious in this funny, smart romantic comedy, in which two Vietnamese-American teens fall in love and must navigate their newfound relationship amid their families’ age-old feud about their competing, neighbouring restaurants.

· Rebelwing- Andrea Tang

Business is booming for Prudence Wu. A black-market-media smuggler and scholarship student at the prestigious New Columbia Preparatory Academy, Pru is lucky to live in the Barricade Coalition where she is free to study, read, watch, and listen to whatever she wants.

· Wings of the Locust- Joel Donato Ching Jacob

Tuan escapes his mundane and mediocre existence when he is apprenticed to Muhen, a charming barangay wiseman. But, as he delves deeper into the craft of a mambabarang and its applications in espionage, sabotage and assassination, the young apprentice is overcome by conflicting emotions that cause him to question his new life.

· The Travelling Cat Chronicles- Hiro Arikawa

Sometimes you have to leave behind everything you know to find the place you truly belong...

Nana the cat is on a road trip. He is not sure where he's going or why, but it means that he gets to sit in the front seat of a silver van with his beloved owner, Satoru.

· Super Fake Love Song- David Yoon

From the bestselling author of Frankly in Love comes a contemporary YA rom-com where a case of mistaken identity kicks off a string of (fake) events that just may lead to (real) love.

· Parachutes- Kelly Yang

Speak enters the world of Gossip Girl in this modern immigrant story from New York Times bestselling author Kelly Yang about two girls navigating wealth, power, friendship, and trauma.

· The Grace of Kings- Ken Liu ( One of the Time 100 Best Fantasy Books Of All Time!)

Two men rebel together against tyranny—and then become rivals—in this first sweeping book of an epic fantasy series from Ken Liu, recipient of Hugo, Nebula, and World Fantasy awards.

· Wicked Fox- Kat Cho

A fresh and addictive fantasy-romance set in modern-day Seoul.

· Descendant of the Crane- Joan He

In this shimmering Chinese-inspired fantasy, debut author Joan He introduces a determined and vulnerable young heroine struggling to do right in a world brimming with deception.

· Pachinko- Min Jin Lee

Richly told and profoundly moving, Pachinko is a story of love, sacrifice, ambition, and loyalty. From bustling street markets to the halls of Japan's finest universities to the pachinko parlors of the criminal underworld, Lee's complex and passionate characters--strong, stubborn women, devoted sisters and sons, fathers shaken by moral crisis--survive and thrive against the indifferent arc of history.

· America is in the Heart- Carlos Bulosan

First published in 1946, this autobiography of the well known Filipino poet describes his boyhood in the Philippines, his voyage to America, and his years of hardship and despair as an itinerant laborer following the harvest trail in the rural West.

· Days of Distraction- Alexandra Chang

A wry, tender portrait of a young woman — finally free to decide her own path, but unsure if she knows herself well enough to choose wisely—from a captivating new literary voice.

· The Astonishing Colour of After Emily X.R Pan

Alternating between real and magic, past and present, friendship and romance, hope and despair, The Astonishing Color of After is a novel about finding oneself through family history, art, grief, and love.

· The Gilded Wolves- Roshani Chokshi

It's 1889. The city is on the cusp of industry and power, and the Exposition Universelle has breathed new life into the streets and dredged up ancient secrets. Here, no one keeps tabs on dark truths better than treasure-hunter and wealthy hotelier Séverin Montagnet-Alarie. When the elite, ever-powerful Order of Babel coerces him to help them on a mission, Séverin is offered a treasure that he never imagined: his true inheritance.

· When Dimple met Rishi- Sandhya Menon

Dimple and Rishi may think they have each other figured out. But when opposites clash, love works hard to prove itself in the most unexpected ways.

· On Earth we’re briefly Gorgeous- Ocean Vuong

Poet Ocean Vuong's debut novel is a shattering portrait of a family, a first love, and the redemptive power of storytelling.

· Fierce Fairytales- Nikita Gill

Complete with beautifully hand-drawn illustrations by Gill herself, Fierce Fairytales is an empowering collection of poems and stories for a new generation.

BOOKS BEING RELEASED LATER THIS YEAR TO PREORDER:

· Counting down with you- Tashie Bhuiyan- 4th May

A reserved Bangladeshi teenager has twenty-eight days to make the biggest decision of her life after agreeing to fake date her school’s resident bad boy.

How do you make one month last a lifetime?

· Gearbreakers- Zoe Hana Mikuta- June 29th

Two girls on opposite sides of a war discover they're fighting for a common purpose--and falling for each other--in Zoe Hana Mikuta's high-octane debut Gearbreakers, perfect for fans of Pacific Rim, Pierce Brown's Red Rising Saga, and Marie Lu's Legend series

· XOXO- Axie Oh- 13th July

When a relationship means throwing Jenny’s life off the path she’s spent years mapping out, she’ll have to decide once and for all just how much she’s willing to risk for love.

· She who became the sun- Shelley Parker-Chan- 20th July

Mulan meets The Song of Achilles in Shelley Parker-Chan's She Who Became the Sun, a bold, queer, and lyrical reimagining of the rise of the founding emperor of the Ming Dynasty from an amazing new voice in literary fantasy.

· Jade Fire Gold- June C.L Tan- October 12th

Keep sharing, signing petitions and donating where you can. The more people who are actively anti-racist, the better. And if your anti-racism doesn’t include the Asian community then go and educate yourself! BLM wasn’t a trend and neither is this. We have to stand up against white supremacy, and racism and stereotypes and we have to support the communities that need our support. Part of that can include cultivating your reading so you’re reading more diversely and challenging any stereotypes western society may have given you.

Feel free to reblog and add any more recommendations and resources of course!

#stopasianhate #books by asian authors #anti racism #i'm so sickened by everything that's happening and i hope that this list does encourage people to read books by asian authors!!!#ya #poc authors #fiction #i haven't all of these yet #asian writers #asian authors #masterlist #antiasianracism

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abbysfrenchbraid · 3 years

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Kissed by a Wolf - Chapter 4

Masterlist 🌿 (check for previous chapters) / Playlist

In this chapter, the reader fully joins Eivor’s clan and takes part in the celebrations before the raid. Talking with Eda does not go as planned.

Content Warnings for food & alcohol, mentions of physical abuse, lesbophobia, light smut and vomit.

Inspo Picture by @anaakeart

The Sting of Rejection

You had already slept for a few hours when Eivor returned from her council meeting late at night. Even though she tried to be quiet and not to wake you, you were awake as soon as you heard her steps on the path outside.

Birna had curled up in your arms and raised her head when the warrior entered, not moving from her warm and comfortable spot. You remained still, your eyes closed as you listened to the woman’s movements. Her fur coat fell to the ground almost inaudibly, the wood of her trunk creaked quietly as she sat down to take off her boots, her leather pants rustled when she pulled them off and threw them in a corner.

Then you finally felt her motions, too as she lifted a corner of the quilt covering you and slipped in the bed, immediately scooting close to you. She gave Birna a few gentle strokes until the cat started to purr softly and Eivor lowered her head next to yours with a satisfied sigh. She smelled like beer and smoked meat, accompanied by that faint, wonderful scent of tree bark.

You must have stirred because Eivor lifted her head again, whispering: “Little bird… there are good news for you.”

Careful not to disturb Birna, you turned slightly and looked at her with raised eyebrows. She smiled.

“You are now one of us. Mine.” She watched your face attentively for a reaction. You closed your eyes and swallowed. So it was decided.

“Are you happy?” Eivor asked, drawing her fingertips over your healthy cheek.

“Yes, I am,” you answered, turning back around and scooting back against her.

“Mmhh. We’ll talk in the morn.” She wrapped her arms around you and pulled you close, then you both drifted off to sleep.

You were woken by Birna's demanding meows at the door. She had not left the hut since yesterday and was probably hungry and in need of a quiet corner. Eivor grunted, then she untangled herself from your limbs and cursed in her mother tongue when she stumbled over her clothes on her way to let the cat out.

“You won’t like it outside, little lady. The snow has stayed,” she grumbled as she opened the door. Indeed, Birna was not amused at the prospect of stepping into the cold, wet powder that painted the village in beautiful white and whirled into the room as soon as the door stood ajar. You pulled the blanket over your head to escape the stinging cold air, listening to Eivor and Birna bicker about the cat’s options for the day.

It really sounded like they were having a conversation, one that ended with Birna leaving with a last, angry cry and Eivor shutting the door with a thankful sigh. She let herself fall back on the bed and crawled under the covers. You stuck your head out.

“So, I’m one of you now?”

Eivor needed a moment to process your question, then she sat up and nodded.

“The council was thankful for your offer to help us prepare the raid and accepted your proposal. You’re going to come with me later so you can have another look at the map and tell us everything you know. In return, you will receive a wooden bangle declaring you part of this clan and my personal servant as soon as we return.”

You sat up as well and leaned against the headboard, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket as you tried to find the right words.

“I am very grateful for your trust. I know it normally does not come easy,” you said. “May I ask something else of you?”

The blonde raised her eyebrows with a questioning look.

“My- the people who came with me. How are they?”

“Oh, they are all well.” Eivor got up and started putting on her clothes. “Three of them have decided to stay with us freely and work in the stables and the longhouse. Two have yet to decide and your lady friend is refusing to speak to us. I hear she is eating, at least.”

A wave of relief washed over you. You were not the only one to change sides. You were fairly sure you knew who had taken up work in the village; the two remaining prisoners were probably the squires to Lord William. They had endured harsh treatment at his hands, but he had promised them a future as knights and held them in higher regard than his own daughters. It made sense that Eda was not willing to speak or change her mind. She blamed Eivor for the death of her entire family.

“Eivor?”

“Yes, little bird?”

“Do you think I could have a word with Eda? Maybe I can reason with her,” you suggested, holding your breath as you waited for her reaction. She considered it for a moment, then she shrugged and put on her coat.

“I guess it would do no harm. You can speak with her before we meet the others in the map room, maybe she will tell you something helpful.” She turned around. “Do you want to join me in the longhouse for breakfast?”

The question surprised you, but she was right. You were healing fast, and there was no reason for you to stay in bed any longer. You agreed and swung your legs out of bed, slipped into your wooden clogs and put on your new coat over the linen tunic. Hopefully, you would be able to acquire some more fitting and functional clothes soon, but now was not the time to worry about looks. Your face was still swollen and blue anyway, your bruises now starting to fade to green at the edges.

You quickly rubbed the salve Valka had given you on your tender cheek, then Eivor held the door open for you and you stepped outside into the snow. The air was hard and cold, but clear and when it filled your lungs, you could feel it chase out the last remains of smoke and illness. Walking down to the longhouse, two dogs ran toward you and circled you with excited barks and wagging tails, apparently delighted to see Eivor. She laughed and chased them around for a bit, then she told them she had other things to do and they let her be and ran off towards the stables.

When you entered the longhouse, Eivor was immediately greeted by cheers and excited comments regarding the coming raid. She smiled and acknowledged everyone’s words before leading you to a side part of the house. There was a fireplace in the center of the area, a hole in the roof directing the smoke outside. A kettle and a metal grid were hung over the fire and an old woman was stirring porridge with a gigantic wooden spoon. You both stepped closer.

“Sfáva, dette er Y/N,” Eivor introduced you, gently placing a hand between your shoulder blades. “She is from Williamsburg and has decided to join us. She is a cook, too."

The old woman slowly came closer, squinting her eyes at you until her face was almost directly beneath yours. Then she suddenly gave you a warm, almost toothless smile, deepening the crows’ feet around her eyes and stretching the leathery, weatherbeaten skin on her cheeks.

“Velkommen, Y/N,” she croaked and took your hand, patting it lightly. She chattered something in Eivor’s direction and the warrior translated: “She’s glad to have you here and hopes you can show her some English cooking. She does not speak your language, but she understands a few words and can grasp your meaning if you speak slowly. Our tongues are not too different.”

You smiled back at Sfáva, gently squeezing her hand.

“I’m honored to work by your side, Sfavá.”

The old cook let out a delighted laugh at your proper pronunciation of her name and gestured for you to take a wooden bowl. You and Eivor both took bowls and spoons from a table and Sfavá filled them with porridge. Eivor loaded up her meal with several sausages from the grill, to which you passed.

“I’m afraid we can’t eat together. My place is up there” - she mentioned to the table at the back of the room, standing orthogonal to the rest of the tables - “with my brother. I see your old companions have found themselves over there, maybe you would like to join them?” She motioned over to where the three men that had been released as well sat and ate their breakfast.

You nodded and wished the warrior a good morning, then you walked over and sat down with the others. Aelfric and Hal had been the stable masters back at Williamsburg and were excited about the variety of horses and possibilities here. Eivor had apparently put a lot of money and work into the stables, making them a much more enjoyable place than the dark, moldy ramshackle hut William’s old mares had spent their days in. Lewin was also content with his situation; he had joined the butcher and his son in preparing meat for winter.

They were all happy to see you, thanking you for your quick thinking and cautious behavior during and after the attack. Lewin was even convinced they owed you their lives. While they went on discussing the possibilities of hunting at this time of the year, you stared into your porridge and tried to find the words and the courage for a conversation with Eda.

What could you say that would explain to her your disloyalty to her name, your treachery to England, your betrayal against her after everything you had gone through together? How could you ever change her mind or her situation, what were your possibilities in this? Would she stay locked into a cell for the rest of her life? What would the Vikings do with her if she was nothing but a nuisance?

The others took their leave and you were still none the wiser. Absorbed in your thoughts, you let your gaze wander through the long hall. Your eyes finally got caught on the she-wolf at the elevated warriors’ table. She was deep in conversation with Sigmund and tapping her finger on the table as she made her point to him. He seemed to agree with everything she was saying, consistently nodding his head as he devoured his sausages.

Suddenly, Eivor caught your gaze and while she kept talking, her finger stayed pressed to the wooden tabletop. You could have sworn there was a hint of a smile on her face as she turned back to her brother to ask him something. Shaking your head, you got up and brought your empty bowl back to Sfáva’s side table.

Even though her eyesight seemed to be terrible, she immediately recognized you and repeated your name with a joyful fondness in her voice that made your heart swell in your chest. What a wonderful woman.

As you wandered around the hall to collect the dirty bowls people had left on the tables, you felt someone’s eyes on you. Smiling to yourself, you relished at the feeling a little bit longer before turning around to return Eivor’s look. To your surprise, she had stood up and turned her back to you, speaking with someone behind the table.

Slightly bewildered, you finished your round and carried the stash of bowls and spoons back to the cooking area. Just as you turned to ask Sfáva where you should wash the dishes, you saw something blue in the corner of your eye. You looked up and had to force yourself to keep your composure as you saw Randvi leaning against a wooden pillar across the hall and watching you from afar, her arms crossed and her face smooth and expressionless.

She did not move or look away when you saw her, standing perfectly still and continuing to look at you as you finally lowered your gaze and asked Sfáva about your tasks for the day. The old Viking explained her wishes to you with a mix of slow Norwegian and sign language, making it clear you should wash the bowls outside in a big trough and bring her another few sacks of flour. You felt uneasy as you left the longhouse to do your washing up, still followed by Randvi’s piercing gaze.

Eivor caught you outside, glad you had already settled in with your new work and thrilled for the raid. She was practically buzzing with excitement and her restlessness made you laugh, taking your mind off the strange moment with Randvi.

“What are you laughing at, eh? You are looking at a proud drengr, not a jester!” she exclaimed, furrowing her brows in feigned outrage and making you laugh even harder.

“You remind me of Eda and Delia on the eve before Christmas. They were so excited for the next morning, they could barely sleep.” Your gaze lost itself in the dirty water in the trough before you. You had some good memories with the two girls. They had been so innocent and happy. A hand on the small of your back drew you back to the present. Eivor had stepped closer.

“I will sleep like a bear in winter so long as you lie by my side,” she said quietly.

Her words and touch sent chills up your spine. Before you could reply, Eivor stepped back.

“But first, we will plan our glorious raid. And then we will celebrate. Oh Y/N, you will love it. Mead and food and great songs - we will be in good spirits tonight. And tomorrow will be even better!” Her eyes lit up at the thought of the joy and glory to come. “I need to look at a few things in the stables. Take this time to speak with your friend. I will come and get you when it is time to meet over the map.”

You watched her as she walked away, a spring in her step as she headed for the wooden building at the far end of the village. The dishes were clean, so you took them back inside and left them on the table for Sfáva. She was deep in conversation with two other Norse women when you filled another bowl with porridge and two sausages and quietly made your way to the cell in the back of the longhouse.

Eda sat on the floor where you had left her last. Her dress was dusty and stained, her hair was matted and her face looked grey and old. Dag, who was keeping watch again, let you in with a grumble and sat back down on his chair. Eda refused to look at you as you knelt down before her and offered her the food.

“Eda, please. You must eat. You look like death itself.”

“I don’t fear death,” she mumbled, still staring at her hands, “I fear traitors and backstabbing snakes.”

Her words knocked the air out of your lungs. You had not expected her to be this hostile. What now?

“I do not claim to know the pain you feel and the losses you are bearing. I am simply trying to live with dignity instead of wasting away,” you explained, tears welling up in your eyes. “Do you not see my face? Were you not there when I learned I was worth nothing at Williamsburg, nothing but dirt on your father’s shoe? Eivor has offered me a place in this world. She-”

“You and your precious Eivor!” Eda snapped, her gaze now burning right through your head and her face screwed up into a hateful grimace. “You fell to your knees the second you saw her, begging for her to take you. I will not be lulled into submission by a filthy little sapphic whore!”

This blow hurt worse than William’s fist. There was nothing left to say. You put the bowl down next to her, then you stood up and left the cell. Dag gave you a strange look when he locked the door again.

Just as you rounded the corner, you bumped into Eivor. She knew something was wrong right away, pulling you into her warm embrace and letting you cry into her chest for a long moment until she pulled back and lowered her head to look at you.

“What is it, my little bird? Will your friend neither soften nor think clearly?”

You just nodded and pressed your lips together, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Eivor turned to look over her shoulder for a moment, then she pulled you into an alcove.

“You stay here and collect yourself. I will tell them you got held up and will be there soon.” She pulled you in for a last, quick hug, then she vanished from sight.

You took a few deep breaths and slapped your chest and torso, trying to fully return to the present, to your body, and to your rational thoughts. If Eda wanted nothing more to do with you, so be it. You had other things to worry about now.

When you entered the map room there were five men waiting for you alongside Eivor and Randvi. One of them was Sigurd, Eivor’s brother and the official chief of her clan, even though you felt like a lot of people cared for Eivor more strongly. You had just found out today that he was also Randvi’s husband. The other four you had seen before but you did not know their names.

Eivor looked up from the map first, smiling widely and rounding the table to introduce you.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. She was the cook at Williamsburg and has visited Fort Winton several times. She will tell us all she knows about the area and the castle.”

“What happened to your face, Y/N?” One of the warriors gave word to what everyone was thinking. You straightened up, trying to brace yourself against Randvi’s icy expression.

“Thank you for this opportunity to make myself useful here. My cheek made acquaintance with Lord William’s fist the day of your attack, but I am healing now and he is not, that is all that matters. And I have you to thank for it.”

Your answer seemed to satisfy everyone and you got to work. You spent the next hours telling them about every path and entrance to the castle you knew of, every person working there when you last visited, and everything about the Stewart that had taken over the shire. You even drew a plan of the order of the buildings and the rooms you knew of.

The Viking warriors warmed up to you quickly when they realized how much valuable knowledge you were giving them and even Randvi seemed to forget her hostility toward you after a while. The group even allowed you to stay for their debates on the right strategy, taking all your comments into consideration and thanking you for your help. Eivor reminded you at some point that you were still injured and told you to go back to the hut, put on the salve, and lay down. She would pick you up later for the feast.

Birna was already waiting for you at the door, mortally offended at having spent the day outside in the snow. She weaseled through the first crack in the door and was even more distraught when the fireplace was dead and the bed cold. You apologized sincerely and lit a fire to make Valka’s wonderful brew while you gently applied her salve to your healing cheek.

While your tea was steeping, you curled up with Birna and poured your heart out to her about Eda. She was a wonderful listener, snuggling up to you when you started crying and supporting your distraught words with agreeing meows. It was heartbreaking - the one friend you still had left did not want to be your friend anymore. You were all alone here. You had to admit that the Norse people were extremely welcoming to you and that Eivor would probably be very offended to hear you call yourself alone after two nights in her arms, but still. You were lonely. After you had drunk a cup of your herb infusion, you laid down, pulled Birna into your arms and cried yourself to sleep while the white cat silently watched over you.

A light grasp on your shoulder woke you and you opened your eyes to find Eivor crouching down before you, smiling softly at you. It was already dark outside and you had trouble finding your grasp on reality for a moment. Was it the next day? No. The feast.

Your mouth was dry and your eyelids felt heavy from crying. Eivor softly brushed the hair out of your face with her fingers.

“Good evening, little bird. Can I interest you in some excellent boar meat and warm mead?”

Birna answered in your stead, crying out as she stretched her little body on top of you. Eivor’s expression became even softer.

“For you, little lady, I have something special.” She took a small balled up bundle from her pocket and opened the stained cloth to reveal some fresh innards, probably taken from the boar. She placed the cloth on the ground in front of the fireplace and Birna jumped down from the bed to have her own royal feast.

You got up and followed the cat's example in stretching your limbs, feeling Eivor’s eyes on you as you put on your shoes and cloak and tried to comb your hair with your fingers. The blonde was next to you at once, holding your hands still.

“Wait. Let me.”

She opened her wooden chest and produced a beautiful wide-tooth comb. It was made from some kind of bone or fang. The warrior stood behind you and gently pulled all your hair back towards her. Then she began combing it out, starting at the bottom of each strand and carefully moving upwards, taking out any knots or dirt. Her fingers touched your scalp every time she took a new strand of hair, sending lightning down your spine and making the hair on your neck stand up.

“That’s better. I can braid it for you, too, if you’d like that,” Eivor said behind you. You brushed a hand over your long hair and felt its smoothness. You had never been allowed to wear your hair down at Williamsburg, always having to put it up in a knot and wear a bonnet or at least a cap. Today you had seen so many Viking women proudly wearing their hair down, some with intricate little braids and beads in theirs.

“I’d like that, yes,” you whispered, scared your voice would betray you. Every day, every hour here felt like a step closer to freedom and happiness.

“Sit down on the bed.” The blonde gently guided you to sit at the foot of the mattress so she could stand next to you. Then she began taking hair from your healthy side and braiding it along the hairline around your ear and down the back of your neck. She stepped around you to look at her work from the front.

“I think that is all you need. You’re beautiful.”

Your heart jumped into your throat, almost making its way onto your tongue. Your fingers followed the path of the small braid, admiring the perfect work of the warrior’s calloused hands. How peculiar, that these rough hands that wielded swords and axes bigger than your head could also be so gentle and precise.

A knock on the door tore you out of your reverie. It was Valka who wanted to take a look at your face and pick you both up for the feast. She was satisfied with your healing process and delighted to see Birna, having a little chat with the cat on the bed. You had to keep yourself from laughing when the thought of Birna being the true queen of this clan entered your head. She probably felt that the same way. The white cat was adored by everyone, and her demands were followed without question.

As the three of you made your way down to the longhouse, you could already hear loud singing and laughter. People were stumbling outside to relieve themselves in the bushes and others were just arriving, all being greeted with loud cheers and big jugs of mead. The same happened to you when you entered the great hall. A few warriors rushed to your side, greeting Eivor and paying you compliments and thanks for your help that day. Enthusiasm saturated the air like a humid day, filling everyone with joy and confidence for tomorrow.

Valka was quick to take the jug of ale from your hands and gave it to someone else who swore his love to her in return. She just smiled and pulled you towards the kitchen area. You had already lost Eivor in the mass of warriors jeering and singing praise to Odin. At the hearth fire, you met Sfáva sitting on a bench and enjoying a massive pitcher of mead. She cried out in joy when she saw you and hugged Valka tightly in greeting before squeezing your hands and grinning her almost toothless smile at you.

Valka asked you to stay with the older woman for a while and help her with the food; then you saw her talk to a red-haired woman and vanish in a dark corner with her. Maybe that was the woman she had spoken about with Eivor before? You wished her the best of luck.

There was not too much to do. The boar was on a spit over the great fire in the main hall and the men were responsible for cutting down the meat for everyone. You were grilling sausages and vegetables on the side and helping the boys open new barrels of ale that were consistently emptied within the hour.

Eivor came by soon, asking for more variety on her plate. It was obvious that she had already had enough mead to kill a boar, slightly swaying when she walked and getting extremely close when she tried to talk to you over the noise in the hall. Her face was red and radiating heat, her eyes had a drunk glisten to them and her laugh was rougher and dirtier than during the day. You were glad she was enjoying herself, although you could not help but wonder if this was the best idea considering her plans for tomorrow.

You spent some time outside cleaning plates at the trough and getting fresh air when you suddenly heard a noise around the corner. You debated for a moment whether you should risk a look but your curiosity got the best of you. As you stuck your head around the edge of the house, you weren’t immediately sure what you saw before you.

Two figures were leaning against the wall in close embrace, chuckling and mumbling sweet nothings to each other. As a cloud finally freed the moon and its light shone down on your village, you made out Valka’s golden headdress and the silhouette of the red-haired woman she had talked to earlier. Apparently, she had gotten lucky. You quietly moved back to your plates and smiled to yourself. Valka was a wonderful person, giving and loving and always putting others’ needs above hers. Eivor had spoken very highly of her trusted friend. She deserved to be happy.

When you came back inside and put the plates back on the sideboard in the cooking area, you noticed Eivor sitting at the front table surrounded by her men. And oh - there was Randvi sitting next to her. The two of them were leaning toward each other, their heads almost touching as they laughed about something Sigurd had said. It seemed that they had talked about their difficulties and made up.

You let yourself fall on the bench next to Sfáva and she patted your thigh, holding out her pitcher to signal it was empty. With a sigh, you got up to get her more mead and made yourself a plate of vegetables from the grid, seeing as you had not eaten since breakfast. Sfáva noticed you had not taken any meat and insisted you go get some boar meat. Upon the realization that she would not let you sit down again until you had tried the boar, you slowly went over to the big fire, hoping no one would notice you. The warrior there cut you a generous piece and you were almost back in your dark corner when someone called your name. God, no.

Aelfric, Hal, and Lewin were sitting at a table with some other stable boys and young maids. You gave Sváfa an apologetic wave which she answered with a loud, heartfelt laugh, then you made your way to your old companions. The boar was better than you had expected and you really were terribly hungry, wolfing down your food at an indecent speed and even going back for another portion. The others were talking about the two squires still sat in the cell; they were sure they would come around by the next morning. Who would really prefer the cold ground over these celebrations and the wonderful food that was shared fairly between everyone?

Looking over to the table at the back of the hall you could see Eivor and her friends conversing loudly, laughing and slapping each other's backs. At one point Dag danced on the table, but he soon lost his footing and went down in a wave of plates, jugs, rattling metal, and the yells of his fellow warriors. You stared at Eivor for a while, hoping she would return your gaze, but she was completely immersed in her conversation and never even looked up from her table. You finished your meal quietly, listening to the others talking about a new dice game they had learned and about a filly at the stable that was born in late autumn, a strange and dangerous time for newborns in the animal world. Together, they were sure they would get it through the winter safe.

Later you returned to Sfáva and leaned against the wall opposite her, warming yourself up by the fire and keeping an eye on Eivor, who was apparently in another drinking contest with one of her men. Randvi had her hands on Eivor’s shoulders and was cheering her on. A small figure stepped next to you, crossing her arms and following your gaze. Valka had returned.

You made no attempt to hide your feelings, you knew she had already seen through you. The healer put an arm around your waist and shook you slightly, looking up at you with a sympathetic expression.

“I know you saw us, Y/N.” The words took a moment for you to grasp their meaning, then you turned to Valka in surprise.

“Oh God, I swear I will keep your secret. I am a master at keeping my mouth shut.”

The smaller woman had to smile at your nervous reaction.

“I trust you. I am glad it was you that caught us and not someone else.”

“May I ask…” you hesitated, “what is going on between you?”

Valka turned her head to look at the singing warriors in the hall. There was a pain in her eyes that felt just too familiar.

“She is married. It was not her choice, but her father’s way of forging an alliance. Her husband is one of the hunters and away most of the time. When he beat her badly the first time, she came to me.”

The silence between you was heavy with meaning. When she began to speak again, her words grabbed your feet and pulled on them, getting heavier and heavier until you began to wonder why the earth had not opened underneath you and swallowed you whole.

“I know you wonder what happened between Eivor and Randvi. It is neither my place nor my ability to tell you everything, but I will say this, for fairness’s sake and because I think you already know in your heart. There was once love between them. Whether it still lives on, I cannot tell. But Eivor has told me that she is ready to leave this bond behind her because she feels something new, something far deeper and more intensive is coming. That is why she has pursued you. She felt something deeper the moment she met you.”

Valka turned to you and you fought to at least turn your feet so you could face her. Everything was spinning around you. The dark-haired woman gently placed her hands on either side of your neck and looked deep into your eyes.

“Follow your heart, Y/N. The gods will lead you. They have decided your destiny long before you were born.”

After recommending you should get some sleep, Valka left you frozen in place and dizzy. The noise that filled the room was now nothing but a single loud booming voice threatening to split your head. You needed to get some air. Maybe your bed was really the best idea.

You looked around for Eivor, but she had vanished from sight. It did not matter, you would find your way into her arms later one way or another. You said your goodbyes to Sfáva and the other servants, then you finally exited the longhouse and inhaled the cool night air.

Rounding the corner toward your hut, you were suddenly startled by a noise that sounded like an animal crying out. Maybe a cat? You tiptoed around the dark cottage to your right and suddenly stopped dead in your tracks.

Your heart dropped to your feet and all the blood left your face.

Eivor had pressed her brother's wife to the wooden wall and was kissing her passionately while her hands explored Randvi’s body under her tunic. They were so immersed that they had not heard you coming. You could not move, your feet suddenly weighing you down like boulders again.

The blonde’s knee was between the other woman’s legs and Randvi spread them for her lover, moaning into her mouth. As Eivor started attacking her neck with kisses, the auburn-haired woman opened her eyes and looked directly at you. The surprise in her gaze was almost unnoticeable, fading quickly to be replaced by malicious pleasure as she continued to stare at you while whining Eivor’s name and burying her fingers in the warrior’s hair.

Finally, your muscles started to work again. You turned on the spot and quietly made your way to Eivor’s hut. You felt sick. Closing the door behind you, you kicked your shoes under the bed and threw your coat into the corner. The cat on Eivor's pillow just gave you a questioning look.

“Oh Birna, if only you knew.” You threw yourself on the bed next to her, then you started bawling for the second time today. You cried until there was not a single tear left and you felt completely empty inside. Then you scooted close to the edge of the bed, turning your back to Eivor’s side, and tried to fall asleep.

Even though you fell into a state of absence, sleep would not come. Dread filled you when you heard teps at the door. But before Eivor could enter, you heard her cough and retch, probably throwing up into the thorny bushes a few steps from the door. A slight feeling of righteousness overcame you but it quickly disappeared again, leaving only misery and desperation.

When the warrior finally entered, you could hear her stumble through the room and curse under her breath as she hit her foot on the bed frame. She seemed to only take off her coat and let it fall to the floor before lying down next to you and falling asleep in an instant. A part of you had still hoped for her arms around you, despite everything. Now you could hear her ragged breathing and smell the smoke and alcohol on her hair and breath.

The tears came again and you silently cried into your pillow while the warrior slept soundly next to you, oblivious to your sorrow. Only Birna proved her loyalty to you by getting up from Eivor’s side of the bed and rolling up in the crook of your bent knees.

You must have fallen asleep at some point because you were woken the next morning by another salve of mumbled curses. It was still grey outside, dawn had only just begun. You stayed completely still and listened to Eivor dress herself and collect her weapons and shield from her trunk.

To your surprise, the warrior suddenly walked around to your side, crouched down, and lightly stroked your hair.

“Have a good day, my little bird. I will bring you honor and victory today,” she whispered, then she stood up and swiftly left the hut.

Let me know what you thought ❤️ (it’s okay if you hate me, I promise I’ll make it up to you in the next chapters)

#eivor x reader #lady eivor #f!eivor #f!eivor x reader #lady eivor x reader #eivor fanfiction #ac valhalla #assassinscreedvalhalla #fluff #angst #im so sorry for the pain im putting you through #but it will be worth it in the end #never thought writing angst would be this much fun

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akindofmagictoo · 2 years

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manuscript search tag game

another one from @diphthongsfordays! slowly but surely i am working through them

my words are revenge, forget, blank, ignore

revenge (Hurricane) (yay banter? but mostly I want to smack Anvindr. hard.)

Two of his men grabbed [Aella’s] shoulders once more to hold her back against the mast. Perhaps they thought she might be dangerous. What a nice change.

“What are you planning to do? Break your ropes and kill me with the weapons you don’t have?”

I wish. “No, but thanks for tying my hands in front of me. Should make it easier when I feel like trying.” He had to know she was bluffing, but she refused to drop the pretence.

“No, it won’t. Has it not occurred to you that I deliberately left your hands where I could see them?” He smiled smugly, but the expression quickly changed to one of regret. “If you’d stop fighting me, we wouldn’t even need the ropes at all. But, you see, you’ve given me no indication I can trust you.”

She bunched her hands into fists. The ropes dug into her wrists. “I meant you should beware of the revenge Ma’s going to take. But by all means, give her more excuses to kick your—”

“She can’t touch me. She thinks you’re miles away from here.”

Her bluff slipped. “What?”

forget (Hurricane) (a much more lighthearted moment! in which I got confused while writing and blamed it on my character instead)

“It’s a little hard to point out anything much on that map, of course,” said Tempest, as though she’d read his mind.

Marisa put in, “There’s a ton of maps in that chest we stole last month. I still haven’t gone through them all. If there’s one of England—” She slapped her forehead. “I keep forgetting we’re not on the Hurricane. Grimmur better keep his grubby little hands off my maps.”

blank (Dragonsong)

She crouched and drew the fallen knight’s sword, rising slowly. This fight had just gotten much less even.

“Isadora.” A bowstring stretched.

Isi spun around. Sierra and one of the knights stood off, both with bows drawn, aimed at each other. At point blank range, neither could miss. It was the knight who’d spoken. He continued, “Stand down, or your friend dies.”

“I can shoot faster,” said Sierra.

Isi shook her head. “No.” She opened her hand and let the sword fall to the ground. “Sierra, stand down. We can’t win.”

ignore (Dragonsong) (yay friendship!)

They spent a few more minutes silent, hoods up and heads down against the drizzling rain, until Robin broke it. “You’re really not going to turn me in?”

“Unless you intend to repeat Sector Three, then yes.”

“What?”

“Three or four years ago—you’d have been a trainee then, I think. A mage got into Sector Three and tried to make it to the castle to hurt the king. They didn’t manage it, but they blew up half the sector instead.”

“Oh. That. I can understand how that might look bad for you.”

A small smile touched Isi’s lips. “I can only protect you so much. At some point, I can’t ignore the fact that I would be legally bound to turn you in. So do try not to be too much of a hazard.”

Robin muttered something Isi didn’t catch. She shot him a questioning glance. He said, “King should be grateful I saved his knight’s life.”

passing this one to @zmlorenz @sleepyowlwrites @ashen-crest and you, Diphthong! and anyone else who wants to play. your words are plan, plead, plain, play

#tag game #manuscript search tag #wip hurricane #hurricane excerpt #wip dragonsong #dragonsong excerpt

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m3ment01-45 · 3 years

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So after reading @rein-ette answers to the AUs she would like to see in Hetalia, I wanted to do this. Behold my Zombie Apocalypse AU.

My english is not really good ;-; and it’s not really focused on killing zombies. It’s just conversations, comedy (?), unrealistic zombie behaviour (OOC?) and an ambiguous ending. My brain didn’t want to do anything serious (for now).

PD (how do you say it in english. PS?): Sorry if my interpretation of characters and relationships offends somebody, I really didn’t mean to, i’m not really good at historical things T_T

__________

“Aren’t you worried about your children?”

“Why should I?” Spain continued drinking his soup while his eyes focused on the map of the mall they were currently in (courtesy of Gilbert, who was taking a short nap using Francis’ lap as a pillow. He deserved it after his small expedition to the shops nearby). “They will be fine”

“Are you serious?”Francis arched an eyebrow. “We’re talking about something…merde. How did you say the word in english…?”

“You mean ‘apocalíptico’?”Francis nodded. “Meh, they will be fine. They’re strong and perfectly capable of defending themselves, even in a situation like this one.” When he saw Francis starting to form another question. He quickly interrupted him.

“And what about yours?”

“I am obviously worried, even if I know that they’re some of the strongest people (both mentally and physically speaking) that I know and I wouldn’t say we have the best relationship... I hope they’re safe, I really do.”

“How adorable.” When Antonio realised his soup can was empty, he started touching it in an attempt to create a melody (a method that helps him focus, although Francis found it a little annoying).” Anyways, I have a few shops in mind,” He grabbed a pen to circle some areas”we can try to look for suplies…”

“Non non non mon ami.” Francis grabbed the map and put it on the floor next to him.” It’s time to talk about your feelings.”

Antonio frowned.

“We’re in a zombie apocalypse.”

“So?”

“Do you think this is the time to worry about my mental health?”

“Of course it is!”

Seeing that his strategy was not working, Antonio frowned more (if that was even possible) and looked at his shoes.

“Okay, fine. Yes. I’m worried.” Having to admit that made him stop touching the can. “But I know they’re fine”

“See? It wasn’t so hard to say that wasn’t it?” Francis smiled.

“But I shouldn’t be worried about them. We are not family. I’m not their father and they definitely don’t see themselves as my children.”

“Oh come on, don’t say such a thing.”

“Francia, they hate my fucking guts. You know it, I know it. All of Europe knows it. Forcing them to have a rol in a ‘family’ they don’t want to have would hurt them, and I don’t want that, I already did enough. Please let’s change the subject.”

Francis nodded, feeling a little guilty for causing his best friend to be sad.

“What about João? The last thing I heard about him was that he was in London.”

“Yeah, with his…special (asqueroso, repelente) husband”

Francis pouted.

“His standards are so low…I feel sorry for him”

“I know right?” Antonio sighted. Unable to believe his cousin’s life choices. “But hey, let’s be optimistic. At least they have the best weapon someone could have in a situation like this”

“Bad weather?”

“Arthur‘s cooking. Just imagine it Francis, the garden completely covered with that devilish food. Even the zombies wouldn’t step that low and try to eat it, João probably thought this strategy as well”

Little did Antonio know: the zombies did tried to eat the blonde’s food (and obviously died. No bullets to their heads needed). The ones that survived now see England as their supreme leader and as if they were cats, they started to leave dead animals in his doorstep as offerings.

João tried to call Nathional Geographic so they could record everything and make a documentary. But then he remembered that communications didn’t work and got really upset because he wouldn’t gain money (yes, money was technically useless now. But he wanted it anyway), but hey: at least he could watch Arthur hit the zombies with a broom everytime they left an animal and waited for his validation.

Back to our main characters, Francis started to laugh (careful to not wake Gilbert up) while nodding his head.

“Definitely.”

“And Lovino and Feliciano probably are with Baba.”Antonio lowered his voice, whispering as if he was a little boy again and he and Francis tried to talk with each other during Rome’s training sessions. With the merciless mediterranean sun making a soft blush appear on their cheeks.”I hope he’s okay.”

‘Baba’ was the nickname the european countries have for San Marino. Who was, quite literally, the grandfather of the continent and where most of them went when they wanted a hug and free cookies.

(But don’t call him that if you’re from The Americas, Asia, Africa or Oceania in front of an european. They will get jealous)

“Didn’t he have problems with his legs?”

Antonio nods.

“Yeah, I think it had something to do with his bones getting weaker…? I don’t really know. But he will be fine, I know it. Lovino and Feliciano won’t let anything happen to him. By the way, do you know anything about Lud…?”

Suddenly a roar was heard outside of the shop. Gilbert immediately woke up and aimed his gun in the air, cursing in german when he hit Francis in the face.

“Sorry…”

Antonio put a hand in his mouth and gestured him to keep quiet. Slow but heavy footsteps were starting to get really close to where they were hiding, Francis (ignoring the pain he felt on his left cheek) reached for his weapon (a baseball bat made of metal and with some drawings as decorations he found on a shop) and started walking towards the noise. Gilbert didn’t hesitate to follow him after checking he had a good amount of ammunition in his gun.

Antonio was putting the map, pens and water bottle in his bag. So he took more time to follow his friends (while cursing them in his mind because how can they be so stupid to go where the noise was coming from? Jesus Christ, menudos idiotas), when he was next to them his eyes widened.

That…thing, was supposed to be a wolf. His grey fur was covered in mud and bloodstains and his mouth was wide open, showing sharp teeth and drool falling in big droplets to the floor. But the most notorious thing was that it was big…incredibly big. And judging by his muscles and the scars on his face and body, he also has a good physical condition and combat experience.

Francis never doubted his fighting habilities (he has 1115 military victories for God’s sake). Even after World War Two and suffering the german invasion (a big punch to his ego, to be honest), he still thinks he’s one of Europe’s best fighters. Even when the dead started rising from the gates of hell, he never considered them as a serious threat to his life (he would if they knew how to walk properly). But this monster…Would they be able to kill a creature like that?

He looked at Gilbert and Antonio. Judging by their faces they were asking themselves the same question, but there also was a fire in their eyes. A flame that Francis learned it meant “Come at us with everything you got you little shit”. He remembered how afraid that stare used to make him feel in the past (although he will never admit it out loud). How funny it is that now he’s relieved to see it again, fate can be really ironic sometimes.

The creature then let out a loud growl, turning his head to stare at where the nations were hiding. Francis grabbed Gilbert’s arm to stop him from shooting. If they were lucky, maybe the wolf would leave and this fight will be avoided. He really hoped so, and just for this time he prayed. For his friends, for his family and specially for God to please turn this horrible situation on their favour.

But unfortunately, it looks like that wouldn’t be the case (heaven doesn’t listen to sinners after all). After realising another growl, the creature ran to their hiding spot.

A loud “bang” could be heard in all the shopping mall.

#this is the first time I do this #Mamá help me i’m scared #hws #hws spain #hws france #hws prussia #zombie apocalypse #bad touch trio #mentions of other characters #engport #hws england #hws portugal #please have mercy on me

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 4 years

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The Inherent Risks of Loving a Wild Man

Bill Guarnere x Reader

Summary: Word about Bill Guarnere and the NCOs going to Sink reaches you, but by the time you hear it’s been so muddled with misinformation that you think he’s dead. After hearing another person saying that he’s alive, you are let with the awful task of waiting....

Warnings: no-no words (it’s hbo/war, kids. people gonna curse), allusions to sexy times, some vv lite sexy times™, angst (kinda)

William Guarnere was a dead man- that much you knew for sure.

The only thing you weren't sure of?

If he was going to die by Sink’s hand or yours.

Sink, you thought ruefully to yourself, throat feeling tight again as you had an intrusive mental image of Bill crumpling to the ground after the crack of a gun. Sink has no other choice, his hands are tied.

For probably the fiftieth time that evening, you walked over to the window in the in-law unit attached to the side of the house you’d been assigned to in England. You knew better than to expect any of the NCOs to go out of their way to tell you, not with the strict curfew Sobel has imposed on them after the idiot himself led Easy astray during a training exercise.

The grandfather of the family you were staying with had told you about it in passing after coming across Dick and some others after his morning bike ride. You’d tried not to openly criticize Sobel, but when the old man mentioned a flustered soldier yelling “high-oh silver!” as he arrived late (and from the wrong direction), you hadn’t been able to hide your scowl.

“He’s going to get us killed.” Bill had grumbled to you a few days ago, after telling you about yet another catastrophic day of training. “I swear to god, Y/n, that cow-eyed bastard couldn’t find his own dick in a well-lit room—”

“I get the picture, Bill. Please don’t ever make me think about Sobel’s dick ever again.”

He’d chuckled at that, pinning your arms above your head and looking down at you with a smug grin.

“I’m awful sorry about that, Miss Y/L/N. Let me make it up to you?”

He’d kissed the air from your lungs then, and any thoughts of Sobel or death were put on the back burner….

It just seemed horribly ironic now- Sobel really was going to be the thing that gets him killed, it just hadn’t happened as straightforwardly as youd anticipated.

Headlights suddenly blind you, and your blood runs cold as you recognize it as one of the airborne’s Jeeps.

It must be Nixon, he’d tell me. Whether i want to actually hear it or not.

Your throat feels tight as the truck pulls to a stop by the front garden, and you don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until the figure that exits the car forgoes the direct footpath through the family’s garden, instead walking straight towards your window.

There’s only one person who does that, did that….

Throwing your window open, you stand on the desk beneath it and crawl out gracelessly, your limbs feeling disconnected from your body as you try to squash the painful hope trying to bubble in your chest.

The man stalks up to you, the light coming from your room illuminating the handsome, sharp, and perfectly alive face of Bill fucking Guarnere.

“Cara mia.”

He’s raised his hands to hold your face in his typical greeting kiss, that stupid grin bright on his face- as if he hadn’t been dead in your mind up until a few milliseconds ago.

So, it was to be you to kill him. Okay then.

You clapped him across the face, palm stinging as you watched his head snap to the side. In the low light, you could see a pink handprint on his cheek and feel a little bad for hitting him so hard.

Then you remember why you’d hit him in the first place, and you get over it.

“What in the actual fuck were you thinking, pulling that shit?”

Your voice is as sharp as your slap, slightly wavering as tears began to cloud your eyes.

“How could you even think about doing something so stupid, and not even bother to let me know…..and you don’t even say ‘goodbye’?”

He said nothing, his face still turned away and his jaw working as you tried your very best not to yell and wake everyone in the main house up.

You then surprise the both of you by bursting into tears, throwing your arms around his neck and sobbing so hard you forget to breathe.

His arms are quick to wrap around you, pulling you impossibly close and nosing affectionately by your ear.

“Hey, don’t cry….oh darlin’, please don’t cry,” the rumble of his voice only makes you cry harder, the sound so comforting and warm and essential, and for four horrible hours you’d tried to wrap your head around the fact that the man you loved was dead and you’d never get to hear that perfect voice again.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I didn’t mean to make you cry—”

You pull away, glaring at him tearfully. “No? What part of you either leaving the airborne- and not telling me, or getting executed for mutiny- without bothering to say anything…..What part of either of those things breaking my fucking heart are you not getting, you stupid fucking idiot?”

You shake your head, only stopping when he unwraps his arms from around you and takes your face in his hands (as he’d intended to before you smacked him).

“Did you even think about what that would do to your mother? Or your father, for that matter—?”

“I’m sorry.” he interrupts you, and when you frown at him he sighs anxiously. “Fuck, baby….”

Seeing that you weren’t going to easily forgive him, Bill wipes at your tears with his thumbs and looks at you sadly.

After standing in tense silence for a few moments, Bill pulls you into another embrace- hands hot through the material of your thermal pajama top.

“I love you.” he mumbles.

A mournful scoff escapes your throat, and he squeezes you tighter.

“Hey, listen to me...” he turns his head so he can look you in the face. Your eyes showed your doubt, and you watched as he seemed to understand just how deeply he’d hurt you.

It was uncommon for either of you to voice your affection for the other and not get an immediate echoing response, the both of you having abandoned any sort of stoicism for the other during your time in one of the Carolinas.

His dark eyes are swirling with deep regret, and you don’t think you’ve ever actually seen him remorseful before. It was heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time, seeing one of the cockiest men you knew looking at you as if you held the key to his happiness. His heart.

“I. Love. You.”

You close your eyes as he repeats the sentiment, unable to bear his intense look without wanting to start crying all over again.

“I didn’t think….well,” he cuts himself off, and when you peek at him you see that he’s nodding to himself. “Nah, that’s it. I just didn’t think. I just did because—”

“I’m not mad that you refused to follow an absolute moron into war...” you interrupt, watching as his brows furrow in confusion. You bring a hand up to wipe at the sticky tears drying on your cheeks. “Bill….losing you will kill me.”

He’s shaking his head now, whispering your name harshly. “Don’t say that—”

“I have to say it because it’s the truth. And if you love me a fraction as much as i love you, you probably already know that.”

With a tired sigh you bring your hands up to rub at his chilled ears, the cold air making your breath fog between you as you speak.

“But, I also know the reality of what’s about to happen- and I’ve made my peace with it as much as I can—” “Cara mia—”

“—because i know that i’ll at least get to see you once before we drop, before all the shit hits the fan, and I’ll get to tell you I love you..... and that if by some miracle we do both make it I’m going to marry you and then we’ll never have to do anything like this again.

“But you almost took that from me.” You swallow your sadness and rest your forehead against his. “Jesus, William….”

He kisses you sweetly, and you know he can also taste the salt of your tears as he does so. Bill’s hands are running up and down your back, following paths and trails he’d first mapped with his fingers the morning after the two of you had slept together the first time.

“Say it back,” he whispers between kisses. “I need to hear you say it back—”

“I love you.”

His hands suddenly stop, and he pulls back to look you over with a furrowed brow.

“Oh shit, darlin’, you’re barely wearing anything!” With commanding hands he turns you around and starts to march you back to your window. You had forgotten that you were just in your pajamas, feet still bare on the chilled ground.

When you climbed in he followed with silent movements, barely getting the window latched before he shirks off his outer few layers and is embracing you again, torso warm and inviting when you held him again.

“I’m gonna be pissed if you get sick, you know that right?”

He’s teasing you again, but his voice still is soft from emotion.

You smile and press a kiss to his cheek. “Yeah, Bill. I know….”

He turns his head before your next kiss lands on his cheek, resuming the sweet kiss from outside.

When you nibble at his bottom lip he groans softly, one hand knotting in your hair while the other one slid down to your backside and kneaded the supple flesh of your bottom with a hungry grip.

“You want some more, baby?” Bill’s voice has taken on a rough quality that never failed to make your heart beat faster and your stomach to curl sweetly. “Want me to show you how sorry I am?”

You shut him up with a kiss, knowing from experience that once Bill got talking like this there was only so much you could take before becoming a flustered and needy mess.

Bill takes the hint, only breaking away from you to quickly pull your shirt over your head before ducking right back in. the material of his button up is rough against your bare nipples, the peaks harder than stone ever since you’d first stepped out into the chilly night air.

His hands drew goosebumps across your back as he brushed his fingers up and down your spine, worshipping you in such a way that made all your teenage years of self-consciousness seem preposterous in hindsight.

“Fucking goddess,” he’d proclaimed once between hot open mouth kisses across your collarbones after you’d both come down from your third orgasm of the night. “If I had my way, you’d never have to cover a single goddamned inch of your body from me. Could fucking taste you whenever i wanted…”

When your hand cups him through his pants he hisses, laughing headily into your mouth.

“I’m still mad at you.” you say, pulling back so you can watch his face scrunch up attractively as you massage his stiffness.

He nods, eyes closed as his jaw goes slack. You can’t help but feel somewhat smug at being able to elicit such a reaction from such a fiery man.

“Thought I was ‘sposed ta be taking care of you, darlin’....”

You hum, walking him backwards so the back of his knees hit your mattress.

“Maybe I want you to suffer a little bit,” you offer as you press on his shoulder to make him sit down before you. He looks up at you, eyes heavy and breathing rough.

There’s now a clear handprint on his cheek from where you slapped him, and some flicker of sadness must show in your eyes because one of the hands that had begun tugging your pajama bottoms down your legs comes up to take the hand you’d hit him with and he kisses at your fingers sweetly.

“I’m okay with some sufferin’, ‘s long as you’re the one dealin’ it.”

You fist his hair and duck down to kiss him urgently, letting him help you step from the clothes around your ankles so you can straddle his lap.

“C’mon, baby….I can take it.”

You respond by craning his head back and placing biting kisses down his throat.

Because as wild as Bill Guarnere was, you were still the one who’d tamed him.

And he wouldn’t just do that for anyone.

You were going to be sure he remembered that.

Even if it took all night.

(Hey kids, wrote this while trying to get through writers block a little bittle ago, and there is a part 2, so holler at ya girl if yall’er (: interested ok thank your bye)

(ALSO! I saw someone else describe Sobel as ‘cow-eyed’ in a different fic. I’m trying to find it so I can give the author credit (bc it’s a perfect description!), but if any of you guys know which one i’m talking about just dm me and i’ll link it!)

(ALSO PART TWO: let me know if you’re interested in being tagged on any future garbage I write!)

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #bill guarnere x reader #it's vv bad but I'll just add it to the pile of already burning garbage pile that is my bibliography

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

Island Dreams - Chapter 20

Chapter 20 is finally here and sorry for the wait. I work full time and I am doing uni as well. I have an assignment due next week so I had to leave my fic aside as well.

Tonight here in Scotland is a big night for rugby fans. Rowan and Lorcan from my fic will be probably celebrating with me just now. Scotland has won against England at Twickenham (Home game for England) and for the three of us it's a very, very, very, big thing. I guess our two men are on their way to the pub to get totally pished (wonderful Scottish word for drunk).

Also, I was so involved in the game that I almost forgot to publish tonight.

Chapter 20 has been a challenge. I have changed a part of the story about 4 times and I hope I chose the best plot. We get to meet Chaol. I know in the books he is not as horrible but i made him a bit more horrible just for the sake of the story. Also, be happy that it finished the way it did. In one of my plans I had gone for much, much more angst. Then I told myself that I was writing a fluffy story and ignored the cruel idea.

Oh, I forgot to add that there is just a smidge of smut.

I really hope you will enjoy the chapter.

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The next morning Aelin woke up before Rowan again. She had a fantastic sleep after the perfect day they had at the festival, but now she was ready to celebrate Rowan because his birthday had finally arrived. She turned to him and he was still sleeping soundly. The lines of his face soft making him even more beautiful. She had planned a birthday lunch at Maeve’s, she had a few presents for him, but most especially she intended to wake him up in a very special way. The night before he had gone to bed with just his boxer and shirtless, which meant he had been much more tired than he let it show because he never did that before. Slowly she pulled the blankets back revealing his naked chest. He was sleeping on his back making her plan much easier. Wickedly she removed her top remaining naked from the waist up. Gently she straddled him and then leaned forward depositing kisses along his torso making sure that her naked body was in full contact with his. She heard him moan softly and he slowly come to awareness. Surprise flaring in his eyes as he took in their position.

“Good morning, birthday boy.” Her body brushed his, her hard peaks against his skin. His eyes went wide. “What—” but she kissed him deeply not letting him finish the sentence. He shifted up until he was in a seated position and Aelin kept straddling him, then she leaned a bit back allowing him to look at her properly. “You are…” and he pointed at her state of undress. “Your first present.” She took his hands and placed them on her breasts. Rowan’s mouth crushed against hers, avid and needy and she did not hold back. His mouth then travelled to her neck and finally he grabbed her hard peaks in her mouths and Aelin arched her back into him. His other hand found its way in the waistband of her underwear and grabbed her butt pulling her closer to him. She felt him hard against her and she had to try very hard not to grind against him. His touch became more demanding as his tongue was doing wicked thing to her mouth. “You can touch me whenever you want,” she breathed in his ear and Rowan groaned and flipped on her back, his body now towering over her. “You…” a lick on her neck “have…” a gentle bite that sent her mind reeling “no…” his mouth on her breasts again “idea…” and his teeth closed on her nipple. Aelin gently moaned. His hands were taking in every inch of her body and she felt on fire at his touch. His mouth followed the lines of her abdomen until he reached her underwear and placed an almost reverential kiss at the apex of her thighs. It was a simple gesture but Aelin almost lost it. His mouth travelled back up and locked again onto hers but a finger slipped between her legs. He pressed gently at her sensitive spot and she felt her body jerk. Using the fabric of her underwear for friction, his finger was now making circles and she felt his mouth bend into a grin. This was not what she had planned. It was supposed to be the other way around with her giving him a special treatment for his birthday. Aelin suddenly felt it, the pressure build, her core now starting to tighten and until release rippled through her like a river out of control. She lifted her head and screamed in his shoulder. She rode her high and he did not stop until she was spent. Then he gave a quick kiss on the mouth and collapsed on the bed at her side, propping his head up with his fist. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to regain composure “This was not what I had planned,” she turned to face him and his grin was wide “I was the one one supposed to give you such a lovely good morning. Not you.” And she poked his shoulder, in response he leaned over and kissed her again. “You provoked me.” His knuckle traced her breasts “with these.” He kissed her again “and I really, really loved my present.” Still half naked she got out of bed and went to her old room to grab his presents. She came back and climbed on bed under his hungry stare. She sat down, not bothering to get dressed again. She handed him the first present and he opened it and smiled when he realised what it was: a green t-shirt with the Peat and Diesel logo. His face blossomed in a lovely smile. “Put this one on.” He said handing the t-shirt back to her. “Does it really bother you to have me naked in bed?” “No,” he said leaning closer “I want something with your smell on.” She put the t-shirt and he kissed her “perfect,” while slowly his hand sneaked underneath the fabric. She patted his hand “I have one more present.” “Very generous woman.” He sat back and took the envelope that she handed him. Once opened, he read what was on it. It was a handmade coupon for a romantic getaway of his choosing. “You choose the location. It can be the mainland or here on the islands. Anywhere in Scotland to be honest. And you get to choose when as well.” She explained “My only rules are that it’s somewhere possibly quiet and with a lot of nature. And once we have the location, I get to chose the accommodation, which will be of course on me since it’s my present to you.” She looked at him “You choose the location and the dates, everything else is on me. Clear?” His mouth was on hers again and she pulled him down on the bed where he landed on top of her. “Thank you for your presents.” She hoped he decided on his getaway as soon as possible because she could not wait any longer. His hips slammed into her and ground against her thighs gently and Aelin groaned against his shoulder. With all the force she had she pushed him off and flung herself out of bed “Breakfast. Work.” She said breathless “Please Ro, I am about to lose my wits.” And she moved to the kitchen to cook breakfast. There was no way she was letting him cook on his birthday.

The morning at the bookshop had been busy. The town was buzzing with festival goers and also tourists and they had their constant stream of people flocking in and Aelin was in her element. Some of them even had told her they had discovered the bookshop on Facebook and her face morphed into a grin. She had gone back to Rowan and told him and she bragged about her amazing PR capabilities. He, in response, rolled his eyes. “You might be the owner, but I put the shop on the map.” Rowan chuckled and kept working on his computer. Aelin got closer and sneaked her head under his arm peeking at the screen “So you are ignoring me for paperwork?” “Aelin, I am not ignoring you. You know I need to do this and reconcile the invoices.” He turned his head and looked at her. “I can handle that for you if you want.” “Title of your sex tape.” He kissed her and grinned. Since Aelin had introduced him to Brooklyn 99 he had become obsessed with the show and they have been binge watching it for a while now. Rowan had also started to make ‘title of your sex tapes’ jokes and she was so proud of him. “I created a monster.” She laughed leaning a bit more against him. He put an arm around her for a moment and kissed her head “Can I just finish this? That you can annoy me all you want.” “Fine,” she said, walking away and swaying her hips on purpose “Come and call me when you are done.” He grinned “You know what I am about to say, right?” “Yeah, title of my sex tape.” And she walked away to play with some of the shelves and let him finish work as he asked. It was a couple of hour later when Rowan joined Aelin. She had one shelf completely empty and was now re organising the non fiction section. “What are you doing?” “I am giving a chance to some of these books to be noticed.” She replied while hauling a small pile to the table “This is the slowest seller section. Fine, we don’t have many titles, but we need to make an effort so it does not lie here forgotten.” “Go ahead and have fun. I trust you.” Then he looked at a couple of titles “Let’s choose one title to put in this week’s recommendations.” “Great idea.” He left her when a customer came in and froze at the sight. He knew that face, he had seen him in a picture Aelin had binned after she moved to his place. Rage surged in him. “I am looking for Aelin.” The man said. Aelin recognised that voice and jumped and went to the front of the shop and stared at the man. “Hi babe,” Her hands fisted at her side and Rowan was at her side as soon as he noticed. “What are you doing here.” Her voice dangerously low. “Saw all you lovely pictures on Instagram and had to come and have a look where my dear ex wife had moved to.” His hands went to his pockets and strutted around the shop admiring it with curiosity “So this is where you work now? A bookshop?” He added in a mocking tone. Aelin was now shaking with rage and Rowan placed a hand on her lower back which did not go unnoticed by Chaol. “Your big dreams seem to have taken a hit.” “Why are you here?” She asked again, reining in the desire to thump him. “To take you back of course.” “You what?” Aelin was speechless “What makes you think I would want to come back with you?” “You love me.” He moved one step closer, ignoring a seething Rowan at her side “I know we had our issues but I am ready to start again. I left her. No more lies. I just want you back. We can have a trial run and then get married again.” Aelin was so shocked by the admission that she could not do anything “I can’t.” She finally said. “You lied to me for over a year. You treated me like a monster. Cheated on me and now you expect me to come back to you? Just because detective slut has left you?” She took a step toward him “You have some guts.” “Aelin, please,” he grabbed her wrist but Rowan grabbed her as well and pulled her back to him. Chaol looked at Rowan and the man straightened up to try and look as imposing as possible. Rowan was a good twenty centimetres taller than Chaol. “Seriously? This guy? You are leaving behind your life in London for this guy?” Aelin heard the growl coming from Rowan. “There is nothing in London for me, Lysandra aside. My life there is a part of the past, same as you are.” “Aelin I was wrong okay? And I am sorry for the way I hurt you. But these months without you made me realise I miss you and I want to do all I can to take you back.” He took another step closer to her. Aelin started pacing. Her mind was spinning out of control. There was no way she was going back to him. Never. She was furious. “I am not coming back.” She eventually said in a low tone, looking at him in the eyes. “My life is here now. I am looking for a job as a doctor here. And I have Rowan. You had your chance and you blew it. Now it’s too late. You should have fought when there was a chance to fix things. It’s over Chaol.” “A job here? Treating what? Sheep? Come on, Aelin, you have more ambition than that.” Rowan almost lunged forward but Aelin stopped him and gave him a tender smile. “Even on an island people need doctors. This is my life now.” She placed herself between the two men, facing her ex husband “And I love it here.” “You can’t be serious.” His tone was getting on Aelin’s nerves. “Like a heart attack.” Was her dead pan reply. Chaol ran his hand through his hair a move that a long time ago it would have sent her shivers down her spine and then ended up in his arms. “It looks like your leg has healed.” She needed some time to refocus. He was taken aback by the sudden change of topic “Yeah, Lysandra is a wizard at her job. I am still walking slowly, but I abandoned my cane last week and I will go back to work the next one.” “Good.” “Aelin, can we please have lunch together and talk? Perhaps without an audience?” And he glared at Rowan. “No. I have said all I had to say to you.” She sighed. He was always stubborn “I have no regrets for the divorce. We were not happy anymore. You were a cheating bastard. It was the only option and you need to accept it. I have moved on. Now it’s time you go back to London and do the same.” “Did you fuck your boy toy already?” Aelin stepped dangerously closer to Chaol “Yes. And you know what?” Another step “He made me scream in a way that you never did all those times he fucked me against a wall.” That was petty but Chaol was out of line and she had enough of him. Then she took a step back and joined Rowan and placed an arm around his waist. She could see rage in his eyes. “Aelin has been quite clear. I would recommend you to leave this shop immediately and never come back.” Rowan’s voice was flat and she realised she had never heard him like that. It was eerie. He was furious. Probably just as much as she was. “Chaol, please…” “I loved you.” He shouted “I still do. I don’t deserve all this hate. It was not all my fault. You didn’t even try,” he stepped back. He was about to add something else but gave up in the end. “Fine. Enjoy your pathetic life here. Enjoy your new boy toy, I hope he can handle you. You are not worth it. Not anymore.” And with those words he left. As soon as he was out of the shop Aelin let out a sob. Her hand to her mouth and her body shaken by the now full blown sobs. Rowan moved a step to her to try and console her but she moved away. She went to the back office and gathered all of her stuff “I need to be alone.” “Aelin…” Rowan’s hand was extended in an effort to stop her. “Leave me alone. Everyone.” She growled and left the shop. Rowan felt his heart break at those words. He only moved again when he heard a customer enter the shop.

Working had been a nightmare. Rowan’s mind kept thinking about Aelin’s broken stare. She pushed him away and the whole thing was driving him insane. She wanted space and he was going to give it to her but it did hurt. He closed the shop at his usual time and went back home with dread in his guts. She hadn’t texted him and he was getting worried. They were meant to go to the ceilidh but that was probably off the table now. And he raged. He was looking forward to dance with her. Once at home he changed into something more comfortable and crashed on the sofa. He lay down and placed a hand on his head and his mobile on his chest, just in case he had news from her. He was almost falling asleep when the phone buzzed. He jumped seated and went for the mobile. It was a text from Aelin. I am sorry. Are you okay? Where are you? Tolsta. Was all she said. Rowan stood and debated what to do next. She had told him where she was. Did it meant it was okay now for him to join her? He paced for half an hour and in the end he decided to go to her. Then he stopped. His car was still in the shop and swore loudly. He had a look at the buses and for a moment he hated island life where buses could be infrequent and stopped after a while. He couldn’t even ask his aunt because she lived outside town and she needed the car to go back home. Finally he decided to get a taxi. It was his only option. He booked the ride and got changed again very quickly. The ride was short and fifteen minutes later he spotted her car at the car park and made his way to her, his heart hammering with fear. What if she was going to break up with him? He knew it was a stupid idea but he was terrified. Once he reached the beach he noticed her seating in the sand, her arms around her legs and his Glasgow uni hoodie on. He had returned it to her the day before. He stopped behind her. “Aelin.” “I am sorry.” She said in a voice that broke his heart. “Can I sit down beside you?” She patted the spot on the sand beside her, but never turned to face him. Rowan sat down beside her and noticed she was staring out to the sea. Her eyes were puffy and anger resurged in him. “I am sorry… I din’t mean…” she leaned her head on his shoulder and her crying resumed. His arm went around her and pulled her closer and rocked her in silence. “He made me so mad.” And another sob rippled through her “I am so tired of hurting for him.” Rowan wanted to say something but at the moment he had nothing that could help her. “I gave him ten years of my life. Ten. And it just went down the toilet.” She breathed in deeply and tried to regain some control “what’s the point in falling in love. It just ends in pain anyway.” Rowan froze at those words. She could not be really thinking about giving up on them. Aelin stare met his “Even us. What’s the point? Knowing my luck you’ll grow tired of me in a few years and bugger off to a new woman.” Rowan kissed her “No.” He said cupping her face and forcing Aelin to stare at him “No. I understand that right now you are in pain, but you can’t give up on us.” And he kissed her again to make his point “I don’t know what fate has decided for us, but I know that I will do my very best to make you happy. You are my everything and I am not giving up on you. Don’t even think about it.” “You say that now—“ He stopped her “Aelin I know my feelings. I am in this for the long run. I love you. And I have never been surer of my feeling in my life. You have to believe me.” “I am scared.” She confessed, snuggling to him “What if we are going too fast? We have known each other for only a few months. We already live together and share the same bed. We said to each other things that people who have been going out for a few months don’t usually say. I am terrified.” She looked up at him, fearing the hurt she would see in his eyes. His hands never left her face “I am scared too. After Lyria left me I told myself never again. I was willing to be on my own forever because I could not cope with the idea of committing so much again. And then you appeared in my life and all my resolutions went to hell.” A gentle kiss on her lips “I have the same fears as you. I love you. Madly” then he smiled at her “If we were in a fantasy we would now confess each other we are soulmates and I would praise our love with an epic speech.” “But we are not…” she added sadly. “No, but it doesn’t change what I feel for you. The fact that no matter how crazy it sounds, I am sure about us. Somehow my soul is telling me you are its missing half. And it frightens me, but I am not giving up on you just because I am scared.” Aelin caressed his face and stared at him in silence. “If you want to slow down, go back to your room or find your own place, I will understand.” She shook her head, tears flowing down her face “No. No, never. I am fine just the way things are. Chaol’s words hit me more that I was expecting. I thought I was over all the pain, but it looks I am not.” “You were not ready. You were not expecting him to come into our shop and say those horrible things to you.” He pulled her face to his chest and hugged her tight “I was terrified when you left. I thought I lost you somehow. And it was the scariest feeling ever.” “I thought about breaking up with for a minute. I was trying to convince myself that not being attached to anyone was the better option. Then I tried to picture not having you at my side and I was even more scared, because I can’t.” “I almost punched him.” Confessed Rowan, lingering in the feeling of her body against his “I have never punched anyone in my life but for him I would have made an exception.” He heard her chuckle and the ice gripping his heart finally thawed away. “That would have been a show I would have paid to see.” “I ruined your birthday.” She sniffled. “You did not. Police officer did. We just blame him.” He kissed her head “being here with you is perfect enough. You are my most precious present.” Aelin laughed “That is so cheesy.” He followed her “I know. I am shocked. See what you did to me?” He felt her hands cover his on her waist “You transformed me into a man who sings epic declarations of love and says cheesy things. You ruined me.” They were silent for a while and then Aelin spoke again. “Ro? I applied for a job as senior emergency surgeon.” She had applied for the job a few days before but hadn’t been able to tell him. It felt like a betrayal. He turned to her and smiled “Good.” “You are not mad at me?” He squeezed tighter “Why on earth? It sounds like an amazing opportunity and I could never be mad at you for choosing to do what you love.” “But the shop—“ “You don’t worry about the shop. Go, get the job and rattle the stars. I will be very proud of you.” “It feels like a betrayal.” And Rowan understood her uncertainty. “No it’s not. Not even close. You are not leaving me or abandoning me without reason. For as much as I hate the man, Chaol was right. Working in a bookshop is not for you. Not with the skills you have. The hospital will be very lucky to have someone with your experience.” And he meant it. Every single word. He wanted her to succeed “unlike some people, I am not scared of a successful woman at my side.” And she finally grinned at him and light reached her eyes still red from the tears. He kissed her forehead. “Ro?” “Yes?” “I am not in the mood for the ceilidh tonight. Can we just stay at home and watch Netflix or read? And snuggle?” “We can also order food and have a very quiet birthday evening. I would love that very much.” “Thank you. Rowan just kissed her. He’d do anything to make her happy. To make sure he could see that wonderful smile on her every single day of their life together. Then he finally stood “Come on. Get your arse off the sand and let’s go home. We have season five of Brooklyn nine nine to tackle.” She stood, stopped right in front of him and kissed him “I love you.”

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowan x aelin #fanfic #throne of glass series #angst #fluff

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secrets-of-the-library · 3 years

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This is a fan-created stowaway island. I always want to try and push the edge on what can be built on the Sims 4 and one of those is ships/houseboats/etc. I’ve always wanted to do a pirate ship and with the help of stage props it was certainly a reality in this one. We’re super into Spuk/Engspa and their pirate arc is a huge one for us so these two things went hand-in-hand. The Sims doesn’t really have ‘deserted island’ packs for like, showers and toliets, etc, so that was a bit harder to do. It’s all off-grid though or the items that are ‘on-grid’ don’t function and are for looks only. Remember: This is fan/headcanon created. I build for fun and am not a professional. I do not build with the intention of having it livable/non-clashing. If something clashes it will be up to you to fix it because I build for the pure aesthetic and not functionality. I own a lot of packs so if you don’t own all the ones used in this there might be issues. You ARE able to board the boat. I had to test that much. That works just fine. Your Sims may be confused for a minute but it works. After the cut here I will provide a visual walk-through via screen captures. You’re more than welcome to download it and look at it for yourself. My username on Sims4 is Shinoshallbugyou.

This one is about as old as the home I created for Arthur. Boats are NOT A THING in the Sims 4 so this is my attempt at a rigged pirate ship. Of course this is located in the Sulani area... Naturally. There isn’t as much to cover in this one. The two main areas are the boat (Two levels) and the island.

First I’ll focus on the boat. I tricked the ‘walls’ underneath it into disappearing though it leaves a strange blue hue from its transparency. It’s believable enough. The ladder is rigged there as well to board it- That’s not a normal feature and has to be forced in. ‘Rounded’ features are also hard to do. The stage props helped a great DEAL in this to make it a reality. The anchor is previously a monument that I’ve just pretended they’ve dropped on a ‘rock’ next to it. There is no way of putting the boat out further because of the small map size but I liked this one in particular for its isolated island.

Upper-deck

Mid-deck. To the left goes to the ‘brig’ and to the right in the bigger doors is the Captain’s quarters.

Upper-deck with a steering wheel. I just now realized that the wallpaper is messed up on the Captain’s Quarter’s windows bu that is an easy fix with the eyedropper tool on the rest of the boat onto that section.

We’ll go to the left room first... The Captain’s Quarters. I originally had a neat table with a spread-out map here but the custom content got removed with an update so I settled to throw in some regular items instead. I think the sink won’t work and that’s on purpose. I really tried to hide that ‘fridge’. Just pretend it is storage for food and not a normal fridge. The lighting for both the Captain’s Quarters and the Brig wasn’t working or ‘coming on’ for some reason so I threw in some quick small ceiling lighting so you could see the details.

Alright- The other room. The Brig. I REALLY wanted something like this in there and it was hard to figure out how to put it in there. Things like ‘They’ll just try to break out of the window and jump out’ came to my mind and had me settling on putting it in the middle with a chair for someone to watch/talk to them. I relented and put on a toilet, bath, sink, and etc in this area too. Those should be off-grid and work.

The ‘bottom’ layer of the ship isn’t much and I never utilized it at all. If you really feel like it you can figure it out and put a crew’s cabins and storage or something down there but I kept this all rather simple, actually. Let’s move onto the island portion of this! I wanted to pretend that they’re stuck on this island and started to build a life on it. There are a few activities to do, places to prep food, old ruins, etc.

‘Gazebos’ aren’t really a thing on the Sims 4 much either. I man made this one with a lot of effort and raising objects. I’m actually unhappy with the bed because I wanted it to look ‘made’ and not manufactured. Again, the Sims doesn’t have ‘castaway’ objects and I needed somewhere else to sleep on the island so I settled for that one.

This is a big inspiration from our larping/rping of Spuk/Engspa where both England and Spain are turned on by their men (Or maybe France helped/was-behind this... Who knows?) and are essentially left stranded on an island. In the span of time that they were left there they actually formed a better relationship than they had up until that point. Something of a couple. But when they got off of the island and forced back into their regular lives they both started to resent each other, thinking that the other ‘forgot’ about all of that and wanted to move on. England, in particular, was really irked by this. In our rping/larping they got back together officially in the 1970′s after Spain emerged from a dictatorship and they both look back rather fondly on the time they were trapped on an island together. The boat wouldn’t have been there technically but I wanted to try it so I kept both. That way my fiancee could play around with them on the island or on a boat. There’s tons of stuff around for them to play around in too! We were having a good time making them swim towards a waterfall and etc.

#sims 4 #sims 4 creator #sims 4 build #hetalia #axis powers hetalia #aph england #aph spain #aph spuk #aph engspa #aph pirates #fan build

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rickjsposts · 3 years

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NFL Week 4 Circa Picks, Week 3 and Season to date recap, comments on the investing section all posted

New Post has been published on https://www.rickjshandicappingpicks.com/nfl-week-4-circa-picks-week-3-and-season-to-date-recap-comments-on-the-investing-section-all-posted/

NFL Week 4 Circa Picks, Week 3 and Season to date recap, comments on the investing section all posted

Football is moving along and we are already on Week 4 in the NFL!

Last week in the Circa Contest I went 4-1 putting my record at 9-6. Also I had Jacksonville +7.5 on Thursday night so I have a jump on

this weekend

My NFL plays last week went 2-2 bringing me to 6-6 for the season on Sides.

Then in the all spread contest where I pick every game against the spread I ended the week at 25-23 but again has a win going into this weekend. All my all spread picks are sent out to subscribers only the day of the game. With my Road Map of every NFL game.

My 5 picks for the Circa contest this week are:

Jacksonville +7.5 (W)

Jets +7

Giants +7.5

Eagles +7

New England +6.5

They are in no particular order as look look pretty good to me. I considered the +17 on Houston and would have used the game but the others look like better picks.

It is very hard to wager on double digit favorites in the NFL. Historically its a losing wager.

In the Westgate Supercontest last week the top 5 finally put in a winning day going 4-1. That brings its record to 6-9 for the Season.

The Westgate top 5 are:

Sea

Bal

MIN

I am not on any of the top 5 and am fading 2 of the. A good spot to be as far as I am concerned:)

The bottom 5 this week in the Westgate:

Jack

Cin

Hou

Phil

Typically the Thursday night game , both sides show up in the bottom 5 as most of the contest players want to wait until the last second to put in their picks. It is no different this weekend as the Thursday night game is 1 and 2 on the bottom 5.

Today so far I have sent out no plays in the NFL, but their are several games that look pretty good to me. I typically send them out about 30 min before game time. Much of my handicapping is evaluating the line moves in relation to the public betting. I have been using this technique successfully for the last 20 years.

On the investing side of the service the markets have been taking a hit. My portfolio and short term trades are holding up very well. I managed to find a very high % trade Thursday night that was good for +1% in SPY in less then a day hold. My short put sale was a winner also on Thursday/Friday.

The investing side of this service is really one of the most overlooked parts. It has been a solid +EV money maker from day 1. And the good thing is the drawdowns have been nominal.

If you have an interest in finding out more, just send me an email and I will go through everything with you.

Also as part of the investing side, I give an opening commentary before each trading day with my observations as to what to suspect.

The cost of the service is only 49.00 a month. You get a 3 day free trial, and have the option to quit anytime. Unlike other services far less successful who charge thousands and lock you in for the entire season. It is one of the few values left in sports services at this point.

I have been providing this for 20 years now and most of my subscribers come from word of mouth.

If you wish to subscribe go to rickjshandicappingpicks.com, click on the PayPal button and choose the monthly subscription.

There is an option for a yearly subscription. But I do not recommend it until you have been a subscriber for a few months. Betting sports is not for everyone. It has its ups and downs. Few can weather the variance let alone come up with +EV methods.

I do much better then most for far less the money.

Good Luck Today

Rick J

rickjshandicappingpicks.com

#investing #nfl #option trading

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conaionaru · 4 years

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Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

Ragnar Lothbrok

Synopsis: 3 months later, Ragnar Lothbrok returns to Kattegat on a quest.

Warnings: angst, fluff, unrequited love, badass Vanya, slight violence, cannon divergence (No Margrethe x Ivar), low self-esteem

Tags:

@youbloodymadgenius @didiintheblog @lol-haha-joke @shannygoatgruff @xbellaxcarolinax @heavenly1927 @astridbaby @queenbeeta @thereareendlessopportunities @chynagirl13

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

The weather was pleasant for once, and Vanya enjoyed every moment of it. Bathing in the lake or gathering flowers and herbs for both Helga and Aslaug was her favorite pastime. Ivar's overprotectiveness dulled slightly, but he still treated her like she might disappear if he didn't see her at least ten times a day.

The rest of the time, Hoenir shadowed her instead. The silent wanderer was as quiet as a mouse, which annoyed both Vanya and Brynja, who loved to chatter and felt awkward with his grunts as answers. He was quite witty whenever he spoke, which delighted Vanya. For some reason, Ivar trusted the man and didn't get jealous of him at all.

Right now, Vanya, Brynja, and Hoenir walked the meadow gathering herbs for Aslaug, who wanted to pray to the gods as she had a vision and needed answers. Vanya volunteered to find the required flowers in her steed, as Aros slept better out on the fresh air.

The said three months old laid peacefully in a sling wrapped around Vanya. Aros liked the sun and flowers and giggled whenever he had heard loud sounds. The fact that he was Ivar's son was also obvious as ever since he could roll over, he reached his hands out to crawl, and got frustrated when he couldn't do it.

The child made both parents very happy, and Aslaug was more than delighted to have a grandson. Which wasn't good for the other Ragnarssons as she kept pestering them for children of their own. "I am telling you, Vanya! She is mending his clothes for him!"

Vanya snickered at Brynja's complaining, Hoenir looked at the other ginger confused. "Aren't you happy you don't have to do it?"

"Well... yes." Brynja frowned and threw her arms up in defeat. "But now he won't stop saying how good of a wife she would make. Father is too old to get married again."

Vanya and Hoenir shared a look and carried on in their walk, silently laughing at the servant, whose father kept courting the neighbor. "Maybe she thinks he doesn't have enough clothes to not walk around shirtless." The Princess offered to which Brynja shook her head and pointed an accusatory finger at them both.

"You are enjoying this, aren't you? What if she wants me to call her Mother?"

"Ignore her," Hoenir answered, simply earning a deadpan expression from Brynja. She rolled her eyes and turned back around so she wouldn't trip and fall. Her orange dress twirled with her movement, her curls bouncing on her shoulders.

Vanya chuckled at the display and walked behind her savoring the feel of a gentle breeze on her face, her hair swaying in the wind. "I am surprised Ivar left so easily," Brynja called out, thinking of the Ragnarsson hunting trip. Truth is Bjorn threatened to drag Ivar out of bed while he slept if he refused to go, but it's not like Hoenir and Brynja needed to know that.

"He needed to spend some time with his brothers, anyway. I think they only left to escape the Queen."

"Let's not forget the joy of killing something," Hoenir added, making both gingers look at him confused. He shrugged unapologetically and continued on his way with the two females behind him.

Brynja watched the broad back of the heathen and leaned closer to Vanya's ear. "Does he sometimes talk of me?"

Vanya raised an eyebrow at the unexpected question and shook her head. "To be fair, he is silent most of the time. Why are you asking?"

"I am just curious. It would be nie if he liked me back. But the Gods sent him here to protect you, not to flirt with me." The twenty-year-old hid her smile behind her bouquet of herbs, but the sparkle in her eye was obvious. She fancied the young Seer. "On the other hand, maybe it is his destiny to put a child in me as well."

Vanya giggled at her adorable friend and looked down at her with mischief in her steel-blue eyes. "You should ask the Seer."

Brynja glared at the joking Princess and hit her on the arm. "Very funny, Vanya. I will ask the ancient one for marriage advice."

"Are you planning a marriage already? My, my, Brynja, aren't you fast?"

"Oh, Shush!"

Hoenir stopped in his track and looked down at the blushing redhead who gripped Vanya's hand in support. Both held their breath, waiting for what he had to say only for him to shake his head and point to the way back, silently telling them to return. "I think he heard," Vanya whispered embarrassedly while Brynja, her red face behind her wild hair.”You know it would be easier if you just spoke to him instead of daydreaming.”

“He doesn’t like me back, Vanya.” Brynja protested sadly watching the man walk before them, his tall frame casting a shadow on them, shielding them from the harsh sun rays. “He looks at Sigurd with more passion than at me.”

Vanya sighed and rubbed her friend’s shoulder sadly. The wanderer talked more whenever Sigurd was near, mostly about music. For someone so silent, he enjoyed music, which delighted the Ragnarsson. So they talked together a lot even when neither was with Vanya.

The trio walked the path to Kattegat pleasantly, talking about what they thought Bjorn would find in the Mediterranean or if it even existed, which Brynja didn't believe. "I am telling you, the map is a lie. There can be no such place."

"When we were children, England and Paris were imaginary lands to us too." Hoenir pointed out, making the servant pout and Vanya chuckle. They froze as a large crowd gathered before them around somebody or something.

Vanya stretched her neck, trying to see what all the commotion is about, but to no avail. "What's happening?"

"I don't know but stay behind me," Hoenir ordered his hand on his sword, ready to kill any possible threat. He stopped by one of the bystanders and tapped them on the shoulder. The merchant looked up at the wanderer with a frown, looking ready to complain, but held his tongue when he saw the emotionless Seer before him. "What is going on?"

"He came back. Ragnar is back." The moment the words left, the man's lips Vanya looked at Brynja, who seemed as equally shocked as her. They hurried forward, shouldering past men and women to get a clearer view of what was happening.

"It appears my return is not welcome." The man in the middle of the angry and curious crowd was nothing like Vanya imagined him. Ivar always described him as a tall man with his head held high who screamed power. But the man she sees is dressed in rags and on edge. No wonder when he returned after such a long time, and everybody seems to hate him. "You have obviously all made your mind up about me."

Ragnar walked in front of a row of men, which Vanya just now realized are his and Aslaug's sons. He stopped in front of Sigurd and looked them over. "Who is gonna do it, then? Who is gonna kill me?" The blood in Vanya's veins froze at the nonchalant way Ragnar asked the question. As if he didn't care if he lived anymore like he wanted them to do it.

The Ragnarssons looked at him with hard faces, only Hvitserk seeming put off by the question. "Well, I don' mind." Ragnar continued looking his sons over for a willing killer. "Go ahead. Please." He moved in front of them again, carefree as if he wasn't talking about death at all.

"What about you, Hvitserk?" He stopped on the other end of the row this time, looking his third son in the eyes, Hvitserk's face steeled for the confrontation. "You think you are a man now? Huh? I dare you. Put me out of my misery." Ragnar talked to him softly, but every word that Vanya or Brynja didn't hear, Hoenir provided thanks to his sharp ear. Everyone watched the King of Kattegat talk to Hvitserk, waiting for somebody to act.

Ragnar smiled at his son's lack of response. "Do it. Do it. Do it, do it." He kept repeating, hitting the flaxen-haired boy in the chest after every taunt. "DO IT!" The scream startled both Hvitserk and the people behind him. Vanya flinched at the sudden cry, Aros stirring against her chest and letting out a whine. Vanya tried to calm him before he started crying and disturbed the scene.

"Look at these people!" Ragnar shouted, extending his hand towards the crowd, his blue eyes still trained on his son. "They no longer support me! Look! Why would they? I am your leader, and I just left! What kind of leader does that, huh?"

The bald man moved into the middle of the crow with his arms spread wide and an uneasy smile on his lips. "WHAT KIND OF KING ABANDONS HIS PEOPLE?" He shouted it for all to hear and turned back to his boys, walking towards them, his jaw clenched. He looked at his oldest son with his second wife. "What kind of father abandons his sons?" Ragnar panted softly, waiting for somebody to tell something, but no one dared to open their mouths.

"So who wants to be king?" But again, no answer came, so he turned to the people, drawing his sword. "Oh, you know how this works! If you want to be King, you must kill me." He threw the sheath on the ground and offered the handle of his weapon to the people.

"Take it." But the gray-haired man refused to move, so Ragnar tried again with other people. "No? You? No? What about you? No? No? Anyone?"

He stabbed the blade on the ground, the sharp edge burying into the dirt, waiting for somebody to draw it and swing it. "WHO WANTS TO BE KING?"

Ragnar walked back to his son, his jaw tense and eyes screaming anger. He went face to face with his oud playing offspring. "What about you, Sigurd? Do you want to be King?" The boy didn't answer, so moving on, Ragnar tried with Ubbe next. "Do you want to be King, Ubbe? Kill me, and you are King. King Ubbe!"

He turned to the people, one hand on Ubbe's shoulder, the other pointing back at him. Ragnar turned towards the son who looked so much like him; a smile spread over his face. He then slapped his cheek, Ubbe head flying back from the contact. Vanya cursed loudly, shocked by the display, glaring at the boy's figures from her spot on the left, her jaw tense and eyes cold as ice.

"What are you waiting for?" Ubbe didn't answer, so Ragnar struck him again, gasps echoing from the people. "Are you afraid? Be a man!" The father went face to face with him, trying to egg him on. But when he got no reaction, he tsked and moved on again.

He chuckled and patted Ivar's head, drawing it back and flexing his fingers like he touched dirt. Vanya's husband watched the man he admired walk off, not even attempting to ask him. Ragnar walked off, seemingly done with the interaction, till Ubbe walked forward, sword in hand looking determined.

Brynja and Vanya held their breaths, waiting for the fight to start, but nothing happened. Murmurs spread over the crowd as Ragnar spread his arms wide, mentioning for Ubbe to make the strike. The brothers looked at each other, unsure what their oldest had in mind. The King slowly walked closer to him, fingers stopping at the handle of his own sword in the ground. But he made another step, leaving it there. He raised his hand up as Ubbe leaned his head back, waiting for another slap that never came.

Instead, Ragnar cupped his cheek and drew him closer, hugging the tall Ragnarsson. When the moment caught up with Ubbe, he dropped the blade and embraced him back, fisting the back of his tunic and buried his head in the crook of his father's neck. Everyone watched the interaction in shock, Brynja cursing under her breath, wanting to see the two fight. So Vanya hit her shoulder, silently scolding the ginger while Hoenir snickered.

They turned their gazes back to the King and the Princes, when Bjorn made his way through the other side of the crowd, looking pissed. He moved in front of the remaining brother, his arms crossed, looking his father up and down. Ubbe stepped back, looking down as Bjorn glared at Ragnar. "Why did you come back?"

Ragnar looked at him, both tense. Meanwhile, Ivar crawled away offended by his father's behavior. The King told his sons he wanted to talk to them in private, Vanya clenched her jaw and pushed her way through the masses, her head held high and murder in her eyes.

She made her way into the middle of the crowd, Brynja, and Hoenir running behind her, shocked by her sudden leave. The sons of Aslaug looked at her confused, Hvitserk trying to pull her back, but she sidestepped him, stalking towards Ragnar with a clenched jaw, patting Aros's back who chewed on her hair. "Ragnar Lothbrok!" She spat out as if the word burned.

Bjorn and Ragnar looked at her as well, the older male's lips lifting up, watching the stranger. The smaller female stopped in front of him, with a babe in her arms. Sigurd and Hvtiserk moved up behind her, the older of the two smiling down at the child that babbled at him happily waving it's little arms around, obvious to his mother's anger.

"And you are?" Ragnar asked, amused, his brows lifting with his head to the side. Vanya ignored the change of atmosphere and hardened her stare.

"Your daughter in law and mother of your grandchild." She spat back, surprising Ragnar, who looked at his sons for confirmation, only to see Hvitserk high five the child over Vanya's shoulder.

He smirked and looked at the boys to see who would claim the girl as theirs. "And who is the lucky one? Hvitserk? Ubbe? Sigurd?"

Vanya scoffed, turning the man's gaze back down to her. "Ivar's." She explained her tongue visibly, trailing from one canine tooth to the other. Ragnar straightened his back, looking over his family, searching for his youngest only to see an empty spot.

"Congratulation, then." He grimaced at her, not understanding why she went up to him in the first place. Brynja tugged at her sleeve, trying to make her retreat, but the Princess stayed put a glare on her face.

"Vanya," Brynja begged desperately, Hoenir pulled her back, his hand on his sword, ready to intervene if things escalated.

"What kind of pathetic man are you?" Vanya asked, shocking everyone. Ubbe's widened, he reached for her only for Bjorn to shake his head at him, the ginger walking closer to the older Viking. "He is the only one who admires you, worships you and defends you against everyone. And yet you ignore him as if he isn't worth even a mention."

Ragnar chuckles at her spat out words, shrugging, his brows up, agitating the ginger even more. Vanya scoffed and looked him up and down with disgust. "I truly don't see what all the fuss is about. You aren't anything special. Just another desperate man with no ounce of nobility left in his body." She hissed hatefully, shocking the Ragnarssons at her harsh words. Her stance and glare reminded them so much of Ivar it was uncanny.

"Not worth a mention or reaction from anybody. You should have stayed where you were." Ragnar looked at her, smirking in a peculiar way as if amused by her hateful comments. When he didn't defend himself, Vanya's hand shot out and slapped Ragnar on the same side he hit Ubbe on. The crack of the contact made everyone gasp and stare at her wide-eyed. She spat upon his feet and snarled at him. "Goodbye, My King."

She turned her back to him and walked towards Hvitserk, her eyes still steel-blue instead of the usual warm sky blue. "Which way did he go?" She requested, raising an eyebrow at him. The Ragnarsson jerked him head backward, signaling that the youngest son went that way. The Saxon nodded in thanks and moved to go after him.

Sigurd reached out to her only for Vanya to jerk her hand away, nearly accidentally hitting him in the face. She walked off, the crowd parting for her as the red sea. Hoenir looked at the King, seizing him up before he followed after her. Aros blew a raspberry towards his uncles, not caring for his mother's sour mood.

Vanya abandoned Hoenir somewhere behind when Ivar was in sight. She walked up the hillside to him and carefully sat down, fixing her blue dress so she wouldn't trip on it. The ginger got comfortable on the grass and looked at her tense husband, his eyes refusing to look at her directly, only seeing her from the corner of his eye.

She took out Aros from the sling and laid him on her lap, the boy instantly turning over and reaching for his father. Ivar reached towards the boy with his left hand and offered the boy one of his fingers, which he wrapped his small hand around, tugging at it cheerfully. Ivar moved the finger up and down, pretending to shake off his son's grip, which Aros found amusing and giggled uncontrollably, wiggling in his mother's lap.

Vanya waited for Ivar to tell her what plagued him at his own pace, patiently sitting there and letting the breeze mess up her hair. After some more silence, Ivar sighed. "He didn't even ask me, just petted me like a dog. As if I wasn't his son too."

Vanya sighed and looked at Ivar sadly, seeing the sad eyes hidden behind the angry mask. "I am the only one who didn't talk of killing him. Everyone hates him, and I was the only one who defended him. They all wanted to kill him if he returned, and then they didn't do anything. Ubbe hugged him!"

Vanya solemnly nodded and leaned her head against his shoulder, trying to silently comfort him while he vented. She licked her lips nervously and closed her eyes, steeling herself for a confession. "I slapped him."

Ivar jumped at that and looked at her confused, shrugging his shoulder so she would lift her head and look at him. Vanya gazed into his eyes sheepishly and nervously smiled at him. "I insulted him, slapped him, and spat in front of him before going after you." Ivar stared at her with his mouth open and eyes wide. "I don't regret it, though. I was defending my husband's honor."

Ivar chuckled and laid his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, silently thanking his wife. "My brave wife. What would I do without you, huh?" He joked, making her smile and chuckle, drawing her head back and kissing his forehead.

Ivar gazed up at her as she smiled brightly, the contagious expression making him smile back.

During dinner, Ivar sat there, brooding, waiting for anyone to talk. He threw his spoon away and glared at his brothers. "So... Father wants to go to England. Why do you not want to go with him?" The other brothers sighed, annoyed with the topic while Aslaug and Vanya watched on, interested in the answer. "Ubbe?"

"You know why. Now shut up." The oldest son of Aslaug ordered observing a piece of food instead of looking his brother in the eyes.

"Is it the same for you, Sigurd?" Everyone looked at the said male, intrigued by the possibilities of the answer. "Or are you afraid of being seasick?" Ivar mocked, resting his head on his fist.

"I am not afraid of anything, brother."

"Not even me?" The smile from Sigurd's lips fell as he played with the knife. Hviterk looked at Ivar amused while Margrethe moved to pour him a cup.

"So... Lillemor ( Little mother) what was that out there?" Ubbe questioned, looking at Vanya with a raised eyebrow making the said female sigh and roll her eyes at him, tired with the questions.

"I told you. It was a backbone, something none of you had at that moment." She snapped, taking her cup to her lips and sipping the mead.

"We acted appropriately. Other than you who attacked a man, you don't know." Sigurd jumped in as Margrethe moved away from Ivar, shaking in fear from the Viking's angry eyes as Sigurd's words.

Vanya chuckled and leaned over the table towards him. "You think I don't know who Ragnar Lothbrok is? What he truly is? As if my people didn't live in fear of him, treating him like the devil and praying for his death. As if my father didn't take precautions for when he would return. But he didn't, and instead, I married one of his sons and carried on the Lothbrok bloodline. I may not know him personally, but I know what he is capable of. But I don't fear him!"

Sigurd scoffed as Vanya slammed her cup down, startling the Ragnarssons, Margrethe, and Aros, who sat in Aslaug's lap. "You make him sound as if he was some god. He is no god, just another human with power and wit. Yet you shake in your boots when he stands before you like he will strike you dead with lightning if you look at him the wrong way."

"We were cautious, instead of you who behaved like a child."

Ivar slammed his cup down on the table, angered by Sigurd's words. The ale sloshed from the cup, startling Margrethe, who nearly dropped her jug. He glared at her, hitting her on her thigh to scold her for her carelessness.

"It is wrong to treat her that way." Ubbe warned Ivar while Margrethe moved away to escape him.

"Why are you so polite? She is just a slave. You all just want to have her. You too, Ubbe." Ivar mocked, wiggling his finger at his older brother. Vanya glared at Ivar, her hand clenching around his right wrist.

"Ivar."

"Mother." The boy rolled his eyes at her warning. Aslaug tried to hold back a smile at his antics; Aros rested against her chest, sucking on his thumb. Ivar smirked at his little victory, satisfied with the outcome while Vanya frowned next to him.

The next day, Vanya sat with Aslaug in the room behind the curtain of the Great Hall, mashing herbs in a bowl, careful to do it slowly as the Queen advised. "Keep the speed up and then add the garlic. What does that stand for?"

Vanya ground the herbs in a Mortar with Pestle blowing hair out of her face, trying to remember what Aslaug taught her. "It stands for protection, strength, and healing."

Aslaug nodded proudly, watching her daughter in law work like a Völva. The Queen has been teaching Vanya somethings she knew that could be useful for the babe, Ivar, or herself. She also taught her about visions for when Aros started having them. The last part confused Vanya as Aslaug could teach her grandson herself, but Aslaug insisted on doing it this way.

Aros laid on a fur next to the table, slobbering all over the figure of Fenrir that his father made. The boy loved sucking on the toy and always played with it. No other toy interested the boy, no matter if it made a noise or shined prettily; this, of course, made Ivar very proud.

"Have you been sleeping alright?" Aslaug asked the obvious question, the dark circles under Vanya's eyes a dead giveaway. She shook her head and leaned back, resting her ass on her ankles.

"Aros keeps crying during the night. Nothing I try helps. The Healer says it's nothing, but I think he is in pain. He always looks so upset, but when Ivar talks to him, he stops." Aslaug looked down at the content child and then at her daughter.

"Maybe he just misses his father. He must feel how tense everyone is since Ragnar returned. Maybe he knows something that we don't."

Vanya shook her head and picked up the babe who whined a little bit at being moved but stopped when it saw its mother. He raised one hand towards her hair and twisted it between his fingers, babbling nonsense.

"And what about you?"

"Huh?"

"How do you feel about Ragnar's return? Everyone said what they think; you are the only one who has stayed silent. You must have an opinion as well." Vanya questioned the strawberry blonde Queen, who smirked at the question and shook her head.

"I don't know what to think. He has not spoken to me yet. I cannot blame him; we didn't part in a good way." Aslaug explained draining her cup and taking Aros from her so Vanya can finish the ritual.

Vanya took the two stones and hit them against each other until a spark lit the bowl's content up in flames. As soon as the fire started, it ended, leaving behind a cloud of smoke that both women looked into. "What do you see in the smoke?"

"I see...A ship," Vanya started but cut herself off angrily, glaring at the smoke. "And an argument on its way."

Aslaug chuckled, thinking the girl was joking, but when Vanya too Aros from her and left with an apology, the Völva knew she was serious. The Princess stormed off to her hut laying Aros into his bed, fuming angrily. "Why didn't it occur to me earlier. I was so stupid, wasn't I?" She hissed, undressing her babe to wash it with a cloth.

Aros looked up at his mother, confused while she rambled on. "He asked everyone but Ivar. He will ask him next." She spat, throwing the rag away and collapsing on the floor angrily while Aros whine at the cold. "And your father will say yes." She cried at her own stupidity. No matter how much he swore to protect them and stay by their side. He yearned for Ragnar's approval and would gladly go with him if it meant his respect. Vanya couldn't forbid him to go; it would be cruel.

She sobbed on the floor, only picking herself up when Aros's whining got louder. She finished washing him and laid down in bed with him, cradling him close to calm herself down. She sang to him the lullaby her wetnurse sang her so long ago.

youtube

The eerie song sends him to sleep son enough, and Vanya was left alone to her thoughts till Ivar returned. "Is he asleep already?"

Vanya hummed, not looking at him, instead watching the adorable face of her firstborn. Ivar undressed and climbed into bed next to them, careful not to squash the tiny babe. "Did you say yes?"

Ivar froze and looked at her before sighing. That meant he did. She chuckled and gazed into his unsure eyes, smiling sadly. "This is a great opportunity to prove myself to him, to be more than his son in the name. Everybody keeps saying that being the son of Ragnar Lothbrok is enough. But I don't feel that way." He looked at her desperately, hoping she would understand. "I love you and Aros. I always thought that I couldn't have a child or a wife. That I was truly boneless, but you proved me wrong. But I need more. I need to be more than a husband and father."

Vanya nodded and took Ivar's hand in hers, taking a deep breath to gather her thoughts. "If even you couldn't do those things, it doesn't make you any less of a man. Cripple or not, you don't need a wife or a child to prove that you are like your brothers. Lots of men can have sex. Lots of men can have children. Those things are easy. To be a son of Ragnar Lothbrok, and to find greatness... That is hard!"

Ivar looked at her with tears in his eyes, relieved that she understood and supported him. "If you feel like you must go to Wessex to feel whole..." She sighed and let the tears spill over her cheeks as well, her husband crying tearing at her heart. "Then I will wait for you here. We both will! And when you return, we will celebrate with your family because no one will ever underestimate you again!"

Ivar nodded and hugged her, crying together until they fell asleep in each other's arms, Aros sleeping between them.

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