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hannahssimblr · 5 months

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“Do it, just do it.”

“Okay well stop moving around all over the place then will you?”

“Jen, wait, maybe-”

“Uh, guys, is there going to be blood?”

“What the hell? No of course there won’t be blood, shut up Joe.”

“No I’m just asking ‘cause like, my ma got mad the last time youse were over when one of you spilled blue powerade on the carpet so…”

“I said there’ll be no blood, relax.”

“Well I’m just saying that I might faint if I see blood, because this time at school before some lad in my base class threw a whiteboard eraser and it hit my face and my nose bled and then I blacked out in the boy’s bathroom and nobody found me for like ten minutes, even though, like, to me, like it felt like no time at all was after-”

“Oh my God, Joe, if you don’t shut the fuck up I’m going to stick this thing crooked.”

“Um, try not to, please.”

She grabs my chin and holds me still, “Then don’t move, and Joe,” She jabs a finger in his direction, “Not a word from you, I’m dead serious. Right,” Her tongue pokes out the corner of her mouth as she eyes my ear with determination. The ice she’s holding melts a trail down my neck and into the collar of my t-shirt and I don’t dare react. “Has that gone numb?”

“I dunno yet.”

“Probably has,” She tosses the cube into Joe’s sink with a metallic thunk and positions the needle on my lobe.

Shane pipes up from the table, “any blue powerades going, by the way?”

“Shut up!” I can feel her hand trembling, and the sewing needle rasps against my soft virgin skin. She exhales slowly, “Okay, one, two…” she hesitates and my eyes follow her movements nervously as she pushes her hair behind her ears and then leans for a closer look. She’s so close that her shaky breath feathers against my cheek. Take two. “Okay, okay, seriously this time. One, two…” I feel it. I hear it. And a grunt of disgust comes from the back of her throat as the needle pieces through my earlobe. “Oh, God,” There’s silence. My eyes screw shut as I wait for the pain.

“Does it hurt, Jude?” Joe sounds queasy.

“Why? Does it look like it should hurt?”

“I told you it doesn’t hurt,” Jen dismisses, “...but it’s fine, right?”

“I think so. It just feels kinda… hot?” I peel my eyes open.

“Yeah, well, you’re grand, now,” she reaches to the counter behind her, “stud or hoop?”

“Stud.”

“Okay well too bad they only had very girly looking studs in Claire’s Accessories, so I got hoops.”

“Why’d you offer, then?”

She dangles the little purple shiny packaging in front of my face to distract me, “Look at that, hm? Very cool, manly hoops.”

“Yeah, very manly.” and she fumbles around my ear for several moments trying to get it through the new hole in me, and that’s when it hurts the worst, as she’s tugging and poking and digging her sharp thumbnails in, but I pretend that it doesn’t because Shane and Joe are in the room and sixteen year old boys aren’t supposed to show things like pain and discomfort in front of each other, it’d be weird and socially unacceptable. Vulnerability is illegal among us.

If it were Jen and I alone in this caravan I’d at least be whining at her, if not actually tearing up about the discomfort of it all.

She closes the clasp at the back of the hoop and presents me to the room, “What do ye think?”

“A bit red,” says Joe as he clutches the rim of the sink with milk white knuckles “Is it meant to be that red? That’s not bleeding, is it? Ah Jesus, I don’t think we should have done this…” Shane glances away from the olympic basketball game on the TV and huffs out a laugh. “Gay ear,” he says.

Jen pauses, “Gay ear?”

“Yep, ‘tis the gay ear.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Obviously, like, you’re after piercing the right lobe; the one that you pierce when you want all the other fellas to know that you fancy them or whatever, like, I dunno. I just heard that some place. Shoulda pierced the left.”

I tug on it self consciously though it’s tender. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Lads on the football team probably, look,” He crosses his arms with authority, “I go to an all boys school. I know what the Gay Ear is.”

I look up at Jen and tell her that I don’t mind that it’s the Gay Ear.

“That’s for life though,” Joe pipes up unhelpfully, “You’ll always have that hole in your ear now, so even if you take the earring out everyone is gonna see that you have your right ear pierced and they’re all gonna think-”

“I don’t care if they think I’m gay. What does it matter?”

“Yeah but you’re not gay, and it’s the Gay Ear,” Shane argues, “That’s the point. You’ll end up confusing everyone, and men won’t know what to do when they see you out and about and all that.”

“That feels like kind of a backwards, 90s thing to say, honestly.”

“Nobody’s being homophobic, fuck sake. It’s just the code.”

“Well it’s pierced for life now, isn’t it? What the fuck do you want me to do?”

“Christ sake,” Jen seizes my shoulder and yanks me back into the seat, “Pass me that ice, Joe, I’ll just do the other side then and you can all shut up annoying me about it, alright?”

“Fucking Gay Ear, who comes up with that shite?” she mutters to herself, and pushes the mostly melted cube to my left lobe so we can start all over again.

~.~.~.~.~

Afterwards I squeeze into the tiny caravan bathroom to look at myself in the mirror. My ears are furious red, but at least the hoops are even. I think. Jen has given me table salt from Joe’s kitchen cabinet to wash them with, and I do it, I fill one hand with limey water from the taps and pour a random amount of salt in with it. I don’t know what I’m doing, but it's fine because if they get infected I'll just take them out. I’ve never seen another boy with both ears pierced, but that’s fine too, because I’ll just pretend it’s a trend from America that nobody else has heard of yet.

When I come out Jen turns away from the television screen to look at me.

“Looks okay,” she says.

“Yeah,” I catch sight of the clock behind her and realise that our ear piercing activities sliced only thirty minutes out of this long, empty July afternoon. “So, um, what now?”

“Any more bright ideas?”

I shrug, “I dunno. We could go play tennis?”

“Kids club is at the boat club until six and my sister is always hanging out with those inbred looking fellas at the one in the caravan park,” Shane says, “So no.”

“Joe, do you think your brother could go buy us cigarettes again? We could smoke up by the-”

“Nah man he’s working today.”

“Well the olympics are on so I suppose we could-”

“I couldn’t be bothered with sports,” says Jen, “nor do I want to sit here pretending to care. And now we’ve done all we were meant to do today and there’s nowhere else to hang out…” She looks at me for help as though I’m supposed to know how to keep three bored teenagers entertained through another endless summer day smack bang in the middle of a recession.

I sigh and throw my hands up in defeat, “Well… I dunno. Will we shave my head?”

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#I am trying something #If you like?? I will do more??#it was fun to write and it's nice to be doing it again #idk let me know what you think #I am nervous #but I am always nervous to share my work lmao #baby jude <3 #Lucky Boy

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incorrectskyrimquotes · 1 year

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Northern Dawn - Prologue

The waters of time flowed through the cosmos, branching off into a thousand different directions, with a thousand different possibilities. Mighty rivers carved through their set paths, unable to escape their ancient way. The tiniest of streams could waive, but it would be inconsequential. Though, content.

Draped in golden wings, watching the flow of time, was the Great Chief of the Divines. It has always been, it will always be, his sacred duty. He must look after time, after these rivers. It was his fate, carved for him long before he could agree to it. He had been so blessed to have had a fate chosen by the gods.

One in particular was of interest to him. The waters of this time, of this family, were stained with the Dragon blood. It glowed in ribbons suspended in the water, dancing like the great auroras that arched through the sky over the land She would have to protect.

The glowing, golden blood was rather selective in who it chose to bless. Like the dragons themselves, it favored the firstborn more often. And it seemed only one or two in each branching generation would bear the curse, carry the blessing. The world had no need of it, of people with it. Until soon. Until now.

A delicate hand, made of ethereal light, crossed over the newest stream. The water and blood and light smeared into Aetherius. This child will be the last member of their family. The Goddess of Families and Fertility has chosen not to bless her so. Chosen to make sure that she had to be the last one.

“Mara.” He spoke, or what mortals would perceive as speaking. The Divine ways, the way they see the world, the words that leave them, can and is only truly known and understood by them. Still, his tone was even, if it contained a bit of sigh. Mara already knew how he felt.

“She must be the last of her kind.” Though Mara’s voice was typically kind and gentle, it was firm. She would not and did not undo her action. She was correct, after all.

The Nine gathered around the stream. They watched as the water and blood and light bore into a new soul, blessing Nirn with new life. The newborn baby cried, as they all do. Akatosh smiled, he couldn’t help it. Her parents named her, so proud of what they had created. It was bittersweet, they were doomed to leave her life, all too soon. Before she could even get to know them, before they could get to know her.

Arkay was saddened by this, feeling the same sympathy for the girl and her parents as he always did. But it was the way it had to be. He watched as her parents became sick, as he called to them, leading them away.

“Her name is her own to make.” Zenithar seemed to understand what the others were thinking and feeling. He glanced downstream, just a bit, to the moment everything will change.

Akatosh could not look away. The girl was sent to an orphanage, but ultimately ran away. She was more fortunate than most, to have had the opportunity to learn to read, write, and learn basic spells. The teenager, now a young woman, drifted. She went from city to city, place to place, forest to forest, just trying to get by.

He would have wanted a better life for her. For her parents. For her parents’ parents. For their entire bloodline. He knew as well as anyone that her suffering would shape and guide her, even if she would not always understand that.

“I wish she had told me.” The god whispered, not for the first time feeling his humanity conflict with his divinity.

Akatosh felt Mara soften, but he couldn’t care. She was usually unpleasant. “She didn’t know.” She spoke gently.

He restrained himself. He wanted to curl his claws in frustration, but the waters of time were bound to them. And his lack of divine control over his mortal emotions would cause needless mortal suffering. “It would have changed things.” Even the gods can lie.

Julianos, the fountain of advice that he is, spoke to Akatosh. “Go talk to him. He wants to see you.”

“She was mourning.” Stendarr spoke, distracted more by the living woman than the dead one. He was unhappy with many of the choices she was going to make, but still understanding. Still merciful.

Kynerath was neither understanding nor merciful. “She acted recklessly.”

“She acted blasphemously.” Nor was Mara.

Akatosh had to change the subject, lest his heart broke all over again. He watched as the woman came to a split in the river of her life. All possibilities sprawled out before her, a million directions she could take her life. Yet, further down, all streams lead into the ocean of her destiny. Mortal sympathy panged his divine heart. She could not escape it.

“We’re too shallow.” He said, trying to follow her possible lives. “This is not what we’re looking for.” He looked downstream, following the blinding light of her blood, of her destiny. But he was looking for the long, dark shadow it cast.

“The light blinds even us.” Talos felt that he, of all gods, was the only one who could ever understand what the woman would go through. Akatosh would have heartily disagreed, if either of them had voiced their opinions.

But he didn’t want to start that fight again. Instead, he said. “You are unhappy.”

“She wants to fight my empire.” Talos looked up at him, still acting much more human than the rest of them.

Akatosh understood that very well. Understood why Talos was upset. Although the light blinded him too, he still tried to peer closer. He finally saw what he was looking for. The dark shadow, casting its wings over the land. The light rising up to meet it. The two locked in battle, with uncertainty beyond that. The lights and streams of space and time fading and drying. None of the gods could see beyond that. Whatever would happen after that could only reveal itself if she could fulfill her destiny.

“She will have to fight.” Talos frowned. “All her life. No rest. No way to gather her strength. There is no being strong for war when all is war.”

“Are you not the god of war?” Dibella didn’t care nearly as much as her fellow gods. Instead, she was painting some lavenders, breathing violet life into the flowers.

“I am the god of warriors.” Talos sounded offended by what she said. Akatosh wished he still had eyes to roll. “She is blessed under those stars, my stars.”

“Guide her.” Arkay was also disinterested, still counting deaths, looking through lives. He glanced at her, wondering of her death. It would either be to the world eater, or after she defeated him. It was unknown, even to him. He looked back to the spirits.

“No.” Akatosh spoke before Talos could, not that he expected him to have agreed. “We cannot intervene. Her destiny was written long ago, in the scrolls.”

Julianos peered even closer. “She will be lonely.” He whispered. “A terrible thing for a mortal to be.”

Akatosh looked upstream as it flowed through Aetherius. He smiled. “No.” He whispered. “Look.” Each of the gods who cared peered closer, into the auroran light shining from the water, into the tiny lives of the mortals.

To see a body being pulled from the harsh, dangerous waters of a dark river. An exhausted man spotted her, the blood from the wound on her head having caught his eye. He ran over to her, grabbing her, trying to understand where she even came from. “General Tullius, sir!” He called. “There’s another body!”

“Leave it.” General Tullius didn’t look up from what he was doing. He tied the fabric around the other man’s head as tight as he could, making sure the knot was unbreakable. “We don’t have any more room on the cart for dead bodies.” He was distracted, focused on the man in front of him. He had to make sure he couldn’t use his Voice, or they could all suffer.

The first man frowned, laying the unconscious woman on the dry bank. He hoped the locals would at least give her a proper burial. To him, those who died without names were the saddest. He moved to leave her, but then he noticed the movement. Her chest was rising and falling. She was breathing. She was alive. “By the N-! Eight.” He cried out, catching himself, just in case. “Tull- uh- General! General Tullius, sir!”

“What is it now, Hadvar?” Tullius sighed.

“She’s alive!” Hadvar picked the woman up, carrying her in his arms. He brought her over to Tullius, who was still more focused on his captive. He lifted her just a bit, trying to show that she’s alive.

Tullius yanked Ulfric to his feet, but gestured in the vague direction of the last cart. “Put her in this one. We can figure it out in Helgen.”

Hadvar placed the woman on the inside, close to the driver. He was worried she’d fall out, still having not woken up. He was sure to keep his eyes on her, and not on the man sitting across from her. Hadvar couldn’t look at him. As Tullius’ bound and gagged prisoner was unceremoniously thrown in the same cart.

What none of them saw, truly saw, was the Great Dragon of Time, looking down upon them. He looked at the woman, feeling a sorrowful joy for her. She would suffer, there was no question in it, she would suffer. But it’s what she was chosen for. It’s her fate. She built for it, able to survive. Able to thrive. Still, he wished a better life for her. He wished the miracle of ordinary days for her.

“Know this.” He spoke gently to her. She would never hear him. She wouldn’t even think it to be a dream. His words would only be a fleeting feeling to her, at best. “You are loved. You are loved by your ancestors. You are loved by your family. You will always be loved. There are people you haven’t met yet who will love you, whom you will love.”

Her face shifted. She could hear him, after all. But only within the deepest parts of her draconic soul. The part that could understand draconic words in a draconic way. “Use this love.” He whispered to her, he wished he could hug her. “It is stronger than any sword, more powerful than any spell, louder than any shout.”

“You are the last Dragonborn. Your soul is that of a dragon, but your heart is that of a mortal. Wield your light, your love, and you will prevail.”

#northern dawn #skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #eryn #word count: 1806 #yeah low ikik forgive me #total word count: also 1806 bc this is the prologue #idk how to tag this #uhh #i am Nervous #i mean obviously i want to write this and show people but boy am i aware of the eyes on me and this rn #howdy doody. theres a lot of you.#i hope this is good.#i do.#scheduled

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