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paarthurnax59 · 10 months

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"Little Sparrow" Chapter 3

Warnings: Cursing in French, swearing and mention of Religion, bad French. (Please don't kill me)😅

Word count: 3,819

Cardinal Jinette marched through the affluent halls of the Vatican with you following behind him. You reached the main hall where the confessional was. He goes in one side and you on the other. He pulled a lever and the wall opened to a fire lite stone staircase and tunnel. The both of you went down the tunnel to the depths of the ancient city. It led to the basement where many of the weapons were being made for the Order’s hunters. He opened the doors to the lab where weapons and research is being done, many men and women from every background. All came together to fight the evils of the world and protect humanity. Over the centuries, the main base had shifted and change. Once the modern era had passed, they had to quickly evolve to keep with the ever-changing world.

Advancing every decade and growing in knowledge and craftsmanship, yet still kept secret from the rest of the world. There were semi-automatic weapons made to kill man foes all at once, bombs that could obliterate dark creatures in the blink of an eye and new high tech EVP meters that can detect not just spirits, but demons as well. Creating armor and high-tech equipment. Even training animals that had the ability to detect the unseeable. They would frequently join in on hunts to find and hunt down the creatures of the night.

As the both of you strut through the crowded area, you noticed a lot of eyes on you. As the two of you walked down the halls, you noticed some very familiar faces as the many priests, nuns and monks looking at you. Some people were even muttering under their breaths, pointing at you. Most people stopped working their current inventions and projects, just to turn their eyes on you. Some spreading ridiculous rumors that were spreading throughout the hall.

“Why is she back?”

“I thought she was kicked out after all the drama she caused.”

“That spoiled brat doesn’t belong here.”

The comments kept coming at you as you walked through the hall with your adopted father. Wanting so badly to punch the people that were saying shit behind your back. Cardinal Jinette, who also heard the whispers coming from the Order’s members, stopped in his tracks and turned to you.

“Pay no attention to them, Paressa. Don’t let your thoughts be clouded by false rumors and gossip.” He assured you and continued to lead you to your destination. You did your best to ignore the comments being slung at you and just kept on walking. After all it’s not something you were here for. Right now, getting answers was the most important objective right now, and finding Van Helsing before it’s too late. You made it through the lab with Father Cardinal without paying any more attention to the people talking . There he led you to the stone stairway. Your eyebrows raised in surprise at where he had taken you.

“Father…Are you really taking me down here?” You asked while you looked at him. His old face telling you that he was indeed serious.

“I am, (Name). It’s about time you finally see what is down there. You are ready, Paressa.”

As you both descend the steps of the hall, memories played in your mind thinking back to your younger years. where Father Jinette first showed you the lab, it was also the very same day you had met Van Helsing. You would never forget such an encounter.

….

“This is where we make all the weapons, technology and tools needed to fight the monsters of the world.” Younger Jinette showed you as you entered the lab for the first time in your eleven years of life. He had fewer wrinkles on his face and his hair dark hair that hide under his hat. You stood in awe and turned around to see all of the amazing equipment that surrounded you.

“C’est incroyable, pere! Can you show me more!?” Your younger and more eager self begged, while speaking in your native tongue. him with a little jump on the tips of your feet. He nodded and started to show you around the lab a little bit more. He introduced you to some of the inventors and scientists, including Carl, as he guided you through the laboratory. He was about to show you the training hall when he had another priest came up to him and nodded. While he was talking to the other man, you looked around to find that there was a large tunnel that had cut up from the wall. A bright, orange glow illuminated the tunnel. Your curiosity grew more as you looked at it. Then your attention was yet again grabbed by your new guardian by him, clearing his throat. You turned to him, snapping you back to reality.

“I will be back, I have some business I need to discuss with.” He said and walked off but was still within eyesight so that you could see him. Continuing your curious tread, you walked to the stairway where the tunnel was. Looking down the tunnel, you wanted to venture out. Being an the overly curious child that you were, you started to descend the steps when you were pulled back by a very large, strong hand.

“You shouldn’t be going down there, little girl.” You looked back and saw a tall, young caucasian man, maybe in his late teens with long dark brown hair and light brown eyes. He wore a long black trench coat with black pants and dark grey sweater. Your eyes then suddenly landed on his hand holding your arm. The blood in your veins began to boil as he refused to let you go. You had a thing against people holding you against your will. Your face scrunched up in irritation at the man holding you and tried to pull yourself away from his grasp.

“Hey! What are you doing?! Tu me laches!” You screeched in French and tried as hard as you could to get out of the tall man’s grasp, but he wouldn’t budge. You kicked, you scratched and even hit him, still would not relent his hold. He even had a smile on his face, letting himself be amused by this little child’s attempt at fighting him off. Once you heard him chuckle, your gritted your teeth and then without warning, you reached out for his free hand and bit him hard. The man howled and released you. As soon as you got free, you ran away from the man. Now furious, he looked back at you and sneered before he ran after you.

“I’ll get you, you little brat!” The man said, catching everyone’s attention. You ran as you saw Jinette looking around after he heard shouting echoed in the laboratory. Quickly running to him and nearly crashed into him, having his arms surround you protectively. The tall, now angry, man came running at you and his eyes widen in confusion.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Jinette bellowed at the man as you hid behind him.

“She was trying to go down the stairway and when I stopped her, she bit my hand!” The burly man with the long locks huffed angerly bearing his teeth while looking at you.

“Told you to let me go! It’s your fault!” You shouted back at him as you stuck your tongue out at him. The man growled at you and looked like he was about to lunge at you when Jinette stood in front of him.

“Enough, I don’t need this to get worse, Gabriel.” He glowered at the younger man. The young male stood straight and calmed himself as he sneered at you. Jinette then bowed down to you and made you look him in the eye. “Paressa, did you bite him?” He asked you with a raised eye. You frowned and wrapped your arms to your chest.

“No.” You replied not looking him in the eye.

“Liar.” The man snarked and you stuck your tongue out again. The man growled at you but stopped when Jinette stared at him. Then he looked back at you, this time determined to get the truth.

“(Name)…You know what I have told you about lying? It’s a sin.” He lectured you as you continued to look at you. “Look me in the eye and you must tell me the truth, my child. Did. You. Bite. him?” He hammered every word as Jinette interrogated you. You looked him in the eye and then nodded. The tall, young man scoffed waved his arms in the air. “And did you try to go down that tunnel?” He said and you nodded, knowing that you couldn’t really lie to him. “Paressa, I will tell you this only once…you are not allowed to go down there. That is no place for a child. You understand me?” He inquired you and you sighed, knowing you had lost on this.

“Yes, Father Cardinal.” You said defeatedly.

“Good. Now, I want you to apologize to Gabriel for biting him.”

“But father-”

“Paressa….” He sternly looked and turned his eyes to the young man that you now known as Gabriel. You stubbornly looked away from the obnoxious man looking down at you.

“Sorry.” You grimaced and refused to meet his eyes and the man rolled his eyes.

“You could do a little better than that. I have seen better manners from gargoyles.” He commented with a displeasing expression, earning a scoff from you. Gabriel then, with a smirk, bent down to your level and whispered to you. “And not as ugly either.” Father Jinette looked at him with a shock and the man just shrugged at him. Your anger resurfaced when he leaned back with a very pleasing grin on his face.

“How about I show you a gargoyle, espece d’ogre stupide!?” You were about to pounce on the man when Jinette stopped you and jumped in front of you

“Alright, Gabriel. That’s enough. You don’t’ need to be fighting a child over something so trivial! You are an adult, act like it!” Jinette chastised Gabriel who rolled his eyes over the whole ordeal. “I have a hunt for you to go on in the next two days and the last thing I need is you fighting my new ward. Now, be one your way.” He gestured the man, and he then walked off. After Gabriel left, Jinette then looked down at you and placed his arm on your shoulders. “Come, we have spent enough time here. It’s time for your history lesson, Paressa.”

“Who does he think he is? Calling me an ugly gargoyle.” You mumbled with a pout on your lips.

“That young man my dear Paressa…is Gabriel Van Helsing. He is of the hunters we have here and is by far one of the best.” He answered.

“I don’t like him.” You mumbled angerly.

“Give him a chance, (Name). You may come to be very fond of him one day. You have more in common than you think.” He tried to persuade you, which made you gag.

“Ugh! No way! !C’est un connard!” You cursed, hoping that Van Helsing will be able to hear. Jinette looked down . At you like you had grown a second head.

“(Name)! you will not be using foul language in God’s holy house!” He gasped at your offensive remarks. “You are not living on the streets anymore and you not will be behaving like it.” Feeling guilty, you looked down folded your arms behind your back.

“Je suis de’sole’, pere. He just got me mad is all.” You whined trying to look as innocent as possible, even though you had just spoken ill profanities just now. Jinette sighed as he guided you down the hall up to Vatican City.

“My child…We have so much work to do with you.”

….

You chuckled at the memory of how you and Van Helsing met, still could not believe that you had bitten him to release you. You both go further down the tunnel. When your finally reached the bottom, a long stone hallway. A large double iron door was at the end of the hall with two large men guarding the door. The guards were tall, beefy with a very stoic expression, showing no emotion. They wore padded dark blue armor, and both looked they were armed to the teeth. They were both very imposing to say the least. The door was locked tight, sealing the door tight. Father Cardinal stepped forward and command the man on the left to let them both through. He nodded and stepped aside, and Cardinal pulled out a set of iron keys. He stood up by the door and tinkered with the lock. You heard a clicking sound and Jinette turned to your direction.

“What I am about to show you, you cannot tell anyone, (Name). Only one other person knows about this and it needs to be kept that way.” Your guardian cautioned making you nod silently. Whatever secret he had, it was serious enough for only for him, you and another person to know. Telling your from when you were a young child that you were forbidden from entering. He opened the door and nodded to the two guards, making them walk away, leaving you alone with Jinette. Once you both were alone, he used his pointing figure and gestured you to follow him inside. Once the both of you went inside, Jinette quickly goes to the iron door and locked it, forbidding anyone from coming in. One you looked away from the old man, you took a good look around the space you both now occupied. Your eyes wide open with amazement to see that it was anything but small. In was large aisle with dark red banner that hung from the pillars that held the room together. Small torches lit up the room, giving an ominous yellowish glow that spread throughout the whole room. At the end, was a large chest down the long hall, with two scarlet banners with the Patriarchal Cross in gold embroidered on them. Jinette appeared at your side.

“Come. Let me show you, Paressa. This is what Dracula is after.” He said and placed his hand on your back and walked down the dark aisle. You both stood up to the large oak chest and the Cardinal pulled out a small key from his neckless that was hidden in his robes. Your heart pounded widely when you watched him turn the key in the lock and it clicked. He pulled it off and placed his hand on the top of the trunk and lifted the lid, your heart beating louder, and your palms began to sweat. Once the lid was off, a fancy silver case with a roman cross appeared the scared heart of Jesus on the lid of the box. Jinette slowly opens the long silver box. Your eyes widen when you looked inside, and a large gasp escaped your soft lips. It was a long ancient roman spear with wide golden strip wrapped around the middle of the blade. It looked to be a 30 A.D. roman style spear.

“Is that…what I think it is?” You asked the Cardinal looking at him in shock, wanting him to confirm your suspicious thoughts. There really is no denying of what laid in that case. You had studied ancient Christianity enough in your life to know what that old weapon was.

“Yes, my child. It’s…The Spear of Destiny.” He muffled reverently as he took out the spear from it’s resting place. You examined it closely and saw how it was exactly like the old archives described in your studies as a little girl. “The very weapon that pierced the body of Christ over two millennia ago. Stabbed by Longinus, the Roman soldier that insured the death of the Son of God. It was found in 570 AD and was kept safe ever since. Here in Vatican City.” He said as the both of you gazed at the spear.

“I can’t believe it.” You softly spoke as you touched the ancient weapon, stroking your finger on it. “Why would Dracula want an artifact like this? Don’t the legends say that he would burn at the touch of Christian artifacts?” You asked looking into father Jinette’s dark brown eyes.

“Because, my child, This spear had been used to ensure Christ’s death when he was on the cross. It was used to cause pain and death to the Son of God, and Dracula loves nothing more than to cause anguish. So yes, he can touch it.” He answered your question, making your blood run cold. “As for why, It is said that those who touch the Spear, will have their power increased a hundred-fold. Some say the wielder themselves will become invincible.” He answered putting the spear back into the silver case. “Many have tried to locate this spear. Evil men like Hitler and Stalin had tried for years to find the location of religious artifacts, this spear being one of them. None of them had succeeded, thankfully.” He sighed with some relief to his voice.

“And if Dracula gets this…”

“He will be unstoppable. There would be no limit to his power. He knew we had the spear and is using Van Helsing to get what he wants. And if he doesn’t…” Jinette didn’t finish as he closed the lid to the spear, a pained expression could be seen on him, not wanting to think about the possible fate that awaited your friend.

“Gabriel…” You murmured woefully and looked back at the gorgeous silver case. “What do we do?”

“We are going to deliver it to him.” He responded gravely, which made you jump away from him and nearly having all the air cut off from your lungs. Is he out of his mind?!

“Are you insane?!” You screamed and Jinette had to quickly cover your mouth, so that no one could hear your shouting.

“Keep quiet and hear what I have to say!” He yelled whispered and he released you slowly. “There is another part of the legend of the Holy spear that many don’t know. While it made grant invincibility, it can also become another’s down fall. It’s said that this weapon can kill any monster, meaning…”

“It can also kill him?” You completed his sentence with a question of your own, feeling a sense of what Cardinal Jinette was planning.

“Yes, it can. Which is why…” He turned to look at you again, with a somber face. “You will be the one to deliver it to him.”

“Me?” You gasped, not believing that Jinette would entrust you with something like this.

“Yes, Paressa. I want you to be the one that delivers the final blow when the time is right.” He placed a hand on your shoulder.

“But…father… I don’t know if I am the right person for this.” You said as your voice laced with great uncertainty, making your palms grow sweaty.

You weren’t trying to cower your way out of it. You were not cowardly by any means. But unfortunately, due to your experience with Charlie’s death and Dean nearly killing you, you were hesitant. His words and anger still fresh in your mind, seeding doubt of your worth. Jinette’s words may mean well, but Dean’s actions kept on clouding your mind. What if you fail? What if Dracula gets his hand on the spear? What if you get someone else killed in the process? What if you don’t make it in time?

So many of these questions swarm in your mind, that you looked as though you were in a trance. Your mind was in a fog, deeply cut off from the world around you. Jinette, feeling even more worried for your mental health, shook you from your daze.

“Paressa?” He alerted you that he was still very much present, bringing you back to the real world. Your shook your head and looked to Jinette again, trying to look like nothing was wrong, when it couldn’t be further from the truth. How can you get through this?

“I’m alright, Cardinal. I was just over thinking this whole thing.” You looked down with your voice low. Jinette, looking at you with a strong heavy breath, bowed his head. What had happened to his little sparrow?

“(Name), I don’t know what you had gone through while you were away, but I have noticed something very off about you since you had returned home.” He admitted letting go of your shoulder. “You’re too reserved and timid. Honestly, it has worried me that you had become someone whom I do not recognized. You are not the same girl as you were when you left and quite frankly, I am scared for you.” He preached with much honesty. “…And I do believe that it has something to do with that bruising on your neck.” He acknowledged sadly and your head jolted up to face him as you covered your neck which had Dean’s handprint on it still. You really hoped that the make-up that covered it would have gone unnoticed. “Don’t think I didn’t notice, Paressa. I don’t know who hurt you, my child. But I know that it has caused you great pain and has turned you into a different woman.” Jinette finished “But I do know this… I have a strong feeling you will find yourself again, given the chance.” He concluded with a small smile. He lifted the box that contained the spear and held it out to you. His words starting to encourage you more as you looked back at him and the case.

Father Jinette had never really been known as a super emotional person. In his younger years before he became a priest, Jinette himself was a hunter. One of the best of the Order while in his prime. He trained Van Helsing when he was younger and then trained you. He was recruited by the Order after his late parents were killed by a demon possessing them. The head of the Order at the time had saved him as a young boy, being raised by the Order like you were. For five decades he gave his life for the order and for the safety of mankind. Now, he guided others to do the same, just like he was guiding you at that moment. You sighed and with slow steady hands, you grabbed the case and held it close to you.

“I won’t fail you, father.” You said with much as much conviction as you could muster.

“I know you won’t. Now come, we must prepare for your mission.”

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French translation:

C’est incroyable, pere!: This is Amazing, father!

Tu me laches!” : Let me go!

!C’est un connard!”: “He’s an Asshole!”

Je suis de’sole’, pere: “I’m Sorry, Father”

Chapter: 4

Taglist: @clairealeehelsing @haileycannotcometothephonern @bruher @deans-spinster-witch @lulu-reads @sandlee44 @holylulusworld

#angst #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #vanhelsingxreader #vanhelsingxyou #van helsing #werewolf #Dracula #vampires #fluff #vanhelsing angst #monster movies #moc dean

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istumpysk · 1 year

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Jon X (Chapter 49)

"All praise R'hllor, the Lord of Light," the wedding guests answered in ragged chorus before a gust of ice-cold wind blew their words away. Jon Snow raised the hood of his cloak.

Wrong religion, I'm going to need a second ceremony.

+.+.+

The snowfall was light today, a thin scattering of flakes dancing in the air, but the wind was blowing from the east along the Wall, cold as the breath of the ice dragon in the tales Old Nan used to tell.

Jon keeps referencing fictitious ice dragons. He's the only character who does this.

Probably because he's Ashara Dayne's son.

It felt like walking down the gullet of an ice dragon. - Jon VIII, ASOS

The wind was gusting, cold as the breath of the ice dragon in the tales Old Nan had told when Jon was a boy. - Jon VIII, ADWD

The road beneath the Wall was as dark and cold as the belly of an ice dragon and as twisty as a serpent. - Jon VIII, ADWD

+.+.+

Alys Karstark leaned close to Jon. "Snow during a wedding means a cold marriage. My lady mother always said so."

He glanced at Queen Selyse. There must have been a blizzard the day she and Stannis wed.

The first few pages are purposely written in a way where it seems as if Alys Karstark (girl not in grey) and Jon Snow are getting married.

Do you get the sense a certain character was supposed to appear near this chapter?

+.+.+

A strained smile was frozen into place on her thin lips, but her eyes brimmed with reverence. She hates the cold but loves the flames. He had only to look at her to see that. A word from Melisandre, and she would walk into the fire willingly, embrace it like a lover.

Do people not understand he's being critical of her?

Of course Daenerys is next. Daenerys VIII ->

She heard the screams of frightened horses, and the voices of the Dothraki raised in shouts of fear and terror, and Ser Jorah calling her name and cursing. No, she wanted to shout to him, no, my good knight, do not fear for me. The fire is mine. I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, don't you see? Don't you SEE? With a belch of flame and smoke that reached thirty feet into the sky, the pyre collapsed and came down around her. Unafraid, Dany stepped forward into the firestorm, calling to her children. - Daenerys X, AGOT

+.+.+

Though only a few men of the Night's Watch had gathered about the ditchfire, more looked down from rooftops and windows and the steps of the great switchback stair. Jon took careful note of who was there and who was not. Some men had the duty; many just off watch were fast asleep. But others had chosen to absent themselves to show their disapproval. Othell Yarwyck and Bowen Marsh were amongst the missing. Septon Chayle had emerged briefly from the sept, fingering the seven-sided crystal on the thong about his neck, only to retreat inside again once the prayers began.

And here I thought Septon Chayle was killed by ironborn in A Clash of Kings.

This is one of those times Jon is completely in the wrong. They have every right to disapprove of this. The Lord Commander should not be playing politics and making marriages.

+.+.+

Alys Karstark slipped her arm through Jon's. "How much longer, Lord Snow? If I'm to be buried beneath this snow, I'd like to die a woman wed."

"Soon, my lady," Jon assured her. "Soon."

Eager Alys.

Eager Sansa?

+.+.+

Jon turned to Alys Karstark. "My lady. Are you ready?"

"Yes. Oh, yes."

"You're not scared?"

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. "Let him be scared of me." The snowflakes were melting on her cheeks, but her hair was wrapped in a swirl of lace that Satin had found somewhere, and the snow had begun to collect there, giving her a frosty crown. Her cheeks were flushed and red, and her eyes sparkled.

"Winter's lady." Jon squeezed her hand.

Are you ready to laugh?

That's considered Queen Arya / Jonrya foreshadowing. Hahaha.

Similar to Ygritte, we have Jon making a superficial comparison between Arya and Alys, but Alys is OBVIOUSLY A STAND-IN FOR THE OTHER SISTER.

But I don't necessarily want to give away my hand. So, what do I do when I plant the seed? Well, I plant the seed, but I try to do a little literary sleight of hand, and while I'm planting the seed, my other hand is up there waving and is distracting you with some flashy bit of wordplay or something that's going on in the foreground, while the seed is being planted in the background. So hopefully the seed is there, the foreshadowing is there, but maybe you won't notice it, because it's surrounded by so many other things. - George R. R. Martin

+.+.+

The Magnar of Thenn stood waiting by the fire, clad as if for battle, in fur and leather and bronze scales, a bronze sword at his hip. His receding hair made him look older than his years, but as he turned to watch his bride approach, Jon could see the boy in him. His eyes were big as walnuts, though whether it was the fire, the priestess, or the woman that had put the fear in him Jon could not say. Alys was more right than she knew.

This is shit writing. The last time we saw Sigorn he was threatening to kill everyone. Maybe spend a small paragraph telling us how we got to this point, George.

"Fight for you?" This voice was thickly accented. Sigorn, the young Magnar of Thenn, spoke the Common Tongue haltingly at best. "Not fight for you. Kill you better. Kill all you." - Jon X, ADWD

+.+.+

"Who brings this woman to be wed?" asked Melisandre.

"I do," said Jon. "Now comes Alys of House Karstark, a woman grown and flowered, of noble blood and birth." He gave her hand one last squeeze and stepped back to join the others.

"Who comes forth to claim this woman?" asked Melisandre.

"Me." Sigorn slapped his chest. "Magnar of Thenn."

"Sigorn," asked Melisandre, "will you share your fire with Alys, and warm her when the night is dark and full of terrors?"

"I swear me." The Magnar's promise was a white cloud in the air. Snow dappled his shoulders. His ears were red. "By the red god's flames, I warm her all her days."

This is cute.

+.+.+

"Alys, do you swear to share your fire with Sigorn, and warm him when the night is dark and full of terrors?"

"Till his blood is boiling." Her maiden's cloak was the black wool of the Night's Watch. The Karstark sunburst sewn on its back was made of the same white fur that lined it.

Girl not in grey is still not wearing grey.

+.+.+

"Two went into the flames." A gust of wind lifted the red woman's scarlet skirts till she pressed them down again. "One emerges." Her coppery hair danced about her head. "What fire joins, none may put asunder."

"What fire joins, none may put asunder," came the echo, from queen's men and Thenns and even a few of the black brothers.

Except for kings and uncles, thought Jon Snow.

Don't you hate it when queens kings and aunts uncles do that?

Daenerys VIII ->

+.+.+

Like so much else, heraldry ended at the Wall. The Thenns had no family arms as was customary amongst the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, so Jon told the stewards to improvise. He thought they had done well. The bride's cloak Sigorn fastened about Lady Alys's shoulders showed a bronze disk on a field of white wool, surrounded by flames made with wisps of crimson silk. The echo of the Karstark sunburst was there for those who cared to look, but differenced to make the arms appropriate for House Thenn.

I'm a bit confused, if Harrion dies will House Thenn rule Karhold? Will this be their new sigil? Alys is marrying into his house, not the other way around.

This won't be the last marriage we see between the free folk and northern houses. There's too many unmarried women, and too many wildlings to settle.

"A wolf for every widow," Mushroom japed, "he will warm her bed in winter, and gnaw her bones come spring." Yet hundreds of marriages were made at the so-called Widow Fairs held at Raventree, Riverrun, Stoney Sept, the Twins, and Fairmarket. Those northmen who did not wish to marry instead swore their swords to lords both great and small as guards and men-at-arms. [...] The resettled northmen not only strengthened the riverlords who welcomed them, particularly House Tully and House Blackwood, but also helped revive and spread the worship of the old gods south of the Neck. - Fire & Blood

+.+.+

"Hobb's mulled some wine with cinnamon and cloves. That'll warm us some."

"What's cloves?" asked Owen the Oaf.

"What will you name the babe?" she asked. "Cinnamon if she's a girl? Cloves if he's a boy?" - Alayne I, TWOW

Do you get the sense a certain character was supposed to appear near this chapter?

+.+.+

"Will my lord be feasting with us?" Mully asked Jon Snow.

"Shortly." Sigorn might take it as a slight if he did not appear. And this marriage is mine own work, after all. "I have other matters to attend to first, however."

How can that be? Only kings make marriages.

Marriages and inheritance are matters for the king, my lady. - Jon IX, ADWD

+.+.+

His boots crunched through piles of old snow. It was growing ever more time-consuming to shovel out the paths from one building to another; more and more, the men were resorting to the underground passages they called wormways.

We know how the secret underground tunnels of King's Landing will become relevant, but we haven't figured out the wormways yet.

+.+.+

"I could feel our lord's fiery gaze upon us. Oh, you cannot know how many times I have begged Stannis to let us be wed again, a true joining of body and spirit blessed by the Lord of Light. I know that I could give His Grace more children if we were bound in fire."

To give him more children you would first need to get him into your bed. Even at the Wall, it was common knowledge that Stannis Baratheon had shunned his wife for years. One could only imagine how His Grace had responded to the notion of a second wedding in the midst of his war.

Kill me the day I start fangirling over a man who hates all women and doesn't have sex with his wife.

+.+.+

The royal ducklings fell in behind them as they made their way across the yard, marching to the music of the bells on the fool's hat. "Under the sea the mermen feast on starfish soup, and all the serving men are crabs," Patchface proclaimed as they went. "I know, I know, oh, oh, oh."

You.

The merman feasting has to be Wyman Manderly.

The only crab that makes any sense to me is Godric Borrell, Lord of Sweetsister, who we met in the first Davos chapter.

"A pity. Gella's not. Homely women make the best wives. There's three kinds of crabs in there. Red crabs and spider crabs and conquerors. I won't eat spider crab, except in sister's stew. Makes me feel half a cannibal." His lordship gestured at the banner hanging above the cold black hearth. A spider crab was embroidered there, white on a grey-green field. - Davos I, ADWD

That leaves starfish soup. The general consensus is that this is a clever nod to House Bolton.

I'm not sure, but I don't have a better answer.

+.+.+

Melisandre's face darkened. "That creature is dangerous. Many a time I have glimpsed him in my flames. Sometimes there are skulls about him, and his lips are red with blood."

A wonder you haven't had the poor man burned. All it would take was a word in the queen's ear, and Patchface would feed her fires.

Do people not understand he's being critical of her? Daenerys VIII ->

All it would take was a word in the queen's ear, and Patchface would feed her fires.

What if the word is Shireen?

Maybe Patchface, instrument of the Drowned God, will kill Melisandre.

Kidding, kidding.

+.+.+

"You see fools in your fire, but no hint of Stannis?"

"When I search for him all I see is snow."

Is this regular snow, Jon Snow, or Ramsay Snow? It's not Jon "Azor Ahai" Snow evidence, I'll tell you that much.

When I was reading comments for this chapter it was amusing to see how many people were able to work out that 'snow' is often used to symbolize Jon Snow.

Yet they have such difficulty making that connection when it's drifting snowflakes making out with Sansa.

+.+.+

"He is not dead. Stannis is the Lord's chosen, destined to lead the fight against the dark. I have seen it in the flames, read of it in ancient prophecy. When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone. Dragonstone is the place of smoke and salt."

Jon had heard all this before. "Stannis Baratheon was the Lord of Dragonstone, but he was not born there. He was born at Storm's End, like his brothers."

Great point, Jon. Does anyone know if another character was born at Dragonstone?

+.+.+

"And what of Mance? Is he lost as well? What do your fires show?"

"The same, I fear. Only snow."

Is this regular snow, Jon Snow, or Ramsay Snow?

+.+.+

"I am seeing skulls. And you. I see your face every time I look into the flames. The danger that I warned you of grows very close now."

"Daggers in the dark. I know. You will forgive my doubts, my lady. A grey girl on a dying horse, fleeing from a marriage, that was what you said."

You're pissing everyone off, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to be a little cautious, vision or no vision.

+.+.+

"I was not wrong."

"You were not right. Alys is not Arya."

"The vision was a true one. It was my reading that was false. I am as mortal as you, Jon Snow. All mortals err."

Gosh, it seems everywhere you look someone is misinterpreting a vision!

"Benerro has sent forth the word from Volantis. Her coming is the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy. From smoke and salt was she born to make the world anew. She is Azor Ahai returned … and her triumph over darkness will bring a summer that will never end … death itself will bend its knee, and all those who die fighting in her cause shall be reborn …" - Tyrion VI, ADWD

Anyway, can Melisandre please ask herself why this girl not in grey wasn't wearing grey, and didn't travel near a lake?

+.+.+

"Even lord commanders." Mance Rayder and his spearwives had not returned, and Jon could not help but wonder whether the red woman had lied of a purpose. Is she playing her own game?

Yes.

+.+.+

"You would do well to keep your wolf beside you, my lord."

"Ghost is seldom far."

Ghost would have followed as well, but as the wolf came padding after them, Jon grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and wrestled him back inside. Borroq might be amongst those gathering at the Shieldhall. The last thing he needed just now was his wolf savaging the skinchanger's boar. - Jon XIII, ADWD

+.+.+

"Your niece is wed."

Cregan Karstark's lips skinned back from his teeth. "Alys was promised to me." Though past fifty, he had been a strong man when he went into the cell. The cold had robbed him of that strength and left him stiff and weak. "My lord father—"

"Your father is a castellan, not a lord. And a castellan has no right to make marriage pacts."

"My father, Arnolf, is Lord of Karhold."

"A son comes before an uncle by all the laws I know."

Oh dear, someone is going to be upset when they learn that.

Daenerys VIII ->

+.+.+

Cregan pushed himself to his feet and kicked aside the furs clinging to his ankles. "Harrion is dead."

Or will be soon. "A daughter comes before an uncle too. If her brother is dead, Karhold belongs to Lady Alys. And she has given her hand in marriage to Sigorn, Magnar of Thenn."

She never thought to have a claim, but with Bran and Rickon dead . . . It doesn't matter, there's still Robb, he's a man grown now, and soon he'll wed and have a son. - Sansa II, ASOS

Jon said, "Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa." - Jon IV, ADWD

+.+.+

"I see what you are, Snow. Half a wolf and half a wildling, baseborn get of a traitor and a whore. You would deliver a highborn maid to the bed of some stinking savage. Did you sample her yourself first?" He laughed. "If you mean to kill me, do it and be damned for a kinslayer. Stark and Karstark are one blood."

"My name is Snow."

I am not the trusting fool you take me for … nor am I half wildling, no matter what you believe. - Jon XI, ADWD

Unless this is Game of Thrones, in which case he is.

+.+.+

"Sigorn leads two hundred Thenns," Jon pointed out, "and Lady Alys believes Karhold will open its gates to her. Two of your men have already sworn her their service and confirmed all she had to say concerning the plans your father made with Ramsay Snow. You have close kin at Karhold, I am told. A word from you could save their lives. Yield the castle. Lady Alys will pardon the women who betrayed her and allow the men to take the black."

He called him Ramsay Snow. Lol

Add two hundred Thenns to Team Stark.

+.+.+

I should make his head a wedding gift for Lady Alys and her Magnar, Jon thought, but dare not take the risk.

Aww, what a gesture.

Sansa stared hard at his ugly face, remembering how he had thrown down her father for Ser Ilyn to behead, wishing she could hurt him, wishing that some hero would throw him down and cut off his head. - Sansa VI, AGOT

Jaime thought back on the head he'd given to Pia. He could almost hear his little brother chuckle. Whatever became of giving women flowers? - Jaime IV, AFFC

+.+.+

Behead this fool, and they will claim I am killing northmen to give their lands to wildlings. Release him, and he will do his best to rip apart all I've done with Lady Alys and the Magnar. Jon wondered what his father would do, how his uncle might deal with this. But Eddard Stark was dead, Benjen Stark lost in the frozen wilds beyond the Wall. You know nothing, Jon Snow.

Sometimes you really don't know anything.

Wonder about the uncle, forget the father.

+.+.+

Old Flint and The Norrey had been given places of high honor just below the dais. Both men had been too old to march with Stannis; they had sent their sons and grandsons in their stead. But they had been quick enough to descend on Castle Black for the wedding.

He's making friends with the mountain clans!

Let them liveeeeeee.

+.+.+

Each had brought a wet nurse to the Wall as well. The Norrey woman was forty, with the biggest breasts Jon Snow had ever seen. The Flint girl was fourteen and flat-chested as a boy, though she did not lack for milk.

A fourteen-year-old wetnurse?

+.+.+

That old rogue Ulmer of the Kingswood proved as adept at dancing as he was at archery, no doubt regaling his partners with his tales of the Kingswood Brotherhood, when he rode with Simon Toyne and Big Belly Ben and helped Wenda the White Fawn burn her mark in the buttocks of her highborn captives.

Why is this here?

+.+.+

"Do you dance often, here at Castle Black?"

"Every time we have a wedding, my lady."

"You could dance with me, you know. It would be only courteous. You danced with me anon."

"Anon?" teased Jon.

"When we were children." She tore off a bit of bread and threw it at him. "As you know well."

Aww, did you dance together when you were children?

What would she do when the music began to play? It was a vexing question, to which her heart and head gave different answers. Sansa loved to dance, but Alayne . . . - Alayne II, AFFC

Every jonsa already knows this, but I will say it again:

Anon means soon; shortly. And yes, you absolutely should be side-eyeing this exchange.

+.+.+

"My lady should dance with her husband."

When the musicians began to play, she timidly laid her hand on Tyrion's and said, "My lord, should we lead the dance?"

His mouth twisted. "I think we have already given them sufficent amusement for one day, don't you?"

"As you say, my lord." She pulled her hand back.

Joffrey and Margaery led in their place. How can a monster dance so beautifully? Sansa wondered. She had often daydreamed of how she would dance at her wedding, with every eye upon her and her handsome lord. In her dreams they had all been smiling. Not even my husband is smiling.

[...]

"Lady Sansa." Ser Garlan Tyrell stood beside the dais. "Would you honor me? If your lord consents?"

The Imp's mismatched eyes narrowed. "My lady can dance with whomever she pleases." - Sansa III, ASOS

+.+.+

"My lady should dance with her husband."

I'm not done!

And there he stood, Harry the Heir himself; tall, handsome, scowling. "Lady Alayne. May I partner you in this dance?"

She considered for a moment. "No. I don't think so."

[...]

He grinned. "I will hold you to that promise, my lady. Until that day, may I wear your favor in the tourney?"

"You may not. It is promised to...another." She was not sure who as yet, but she knew she would find someone. - Alayne I, TWOW

I bet she will. I bet they'll both find their proper dance partners.

Do you get the sense a certain character was supposed to appear near this chapter?

+.+.+

"Different," she said, "but more like us."

"Aye, my lady. The Thenns have lords and laws." They know how to kneel. "They mine tin and copper for bronze, forge their own arms and armor instead of stealing it. A proud folk, and brave. Mance Rayder had to best the old Magnar thrice before Styr would accept him as King-Beyond-the-Wall."

Kneel to whom?

+.+.+

"And now they are here, on our side of the Wall. Driven from their mountain fastness and into my bedchamber." She smiled a wry smile. "It is my own fault. My lord father told me I must charm your brother Robb, but I was only six and didn't know how."

Aye, but now you're almost six-and-ten, and we must pray you will know how to charm your new husband.

Bringing Harry here was the first step in our plan, but now we need to keep him, and only you can do that. He has a weakness for a pretty face, and whose face is prettier than yours? Charm him. Entrance him. Bewitch him." - Alayne I, TWOW

Do you get the sense a certain character was supposed to appear near this chapter?

+.+.+

"My lady, how do things stand at Karhold with your food stores?"

"Not well." Alys sighed. "My father took so many of our men south with him that only the women and young boys were left to bring the harvest in. Them, and the men too old or crippled to go off to war. Crops withered in the fields or were pounded into the mud by autumn rains. And now the snows are come. This winter will be hard. Few of the old people will survive it, and many children will perish as well."

No pressure Sansa, but there's no food.

We could, thought Jon, if we had the gold, and someone willing to sell us food. Both of those were lacking. Our best hope may be the Eyrie. The Vale of Arryn was famously fertile and had gone untouched during the fighting. - Jon IV, ADWD

"Post guardsmen on the docks. If need be, seize the ships. How does not matter, so long as no food leaves the Vale." - Alayne I, TWOW

+.+.+

It was a tale that any northmen knew well. "My father's grandmother was a Flint of the mountains, on his mother's side," Jon told her. "The First Flints, they call themselves. They say the other Flints are the blood of younger sons, who had to leave the mountains to find food and land and wives. It has always been a harsh life up there. When the snows fall and food grows scarce, their young must travel to the winter town or take service at one castle or the other. The old men gather up what strength remains in them and announce that they are going hunting. Some are found come spring. More are never seen again."

Ned Stark's grandmother was Arya Flint.

Arya married Rodrik Stark, The Wandering Wolf.

+.+.+

"When your stores begin to dwindle, my lady, remember us. Send your old men to the Wall, let them say our words. Here at least they will not die alone in the snow, with only memories to warm them. Send us boys as well, if you have boys to spare."

+.+.+

"As you say." She touched his hand. "Karhold remembers."

This is why the House Royce words are so obviously a reference to House Stark.

There's no way the House Royce words are a coincidence.

+.+.+

The letter had been written by Maester Harmune; Cotter Pyke could neither read nor write. But the words were Pyke's, set down as he had spoken them, blunt and to the point.

Calm seas today. Eleven ships set sail for Hardhome on the morning tide. Three Braavosi, four Lyseni, four of ours. Two of the Lyseni barely seaworthy. We may drown more wildlings than we save. Your command. Twenty ravens aboard, and Maester Harmune. Will send reports. I command from Talon, Tattersalt second on Blackbird, Ser Glendon holds Eastwatch.

Four Lyseni ships?

The three Braavosi ships would bring the fleet at Eastwatch up to eleven, including the Ibbenese whaler that Cotter Pyke had commandeered on Jon's order, a trading galley out of Pentos similarly impressed, and three battered Lysene warships, remnants of Salladhor Saan's former fleet driven back north by the autumn storms. All three of Saan's ships had been in dire need of refitting, but by now the work should be complete. - Jon IX, ADWD

That was one chapter ago. You notice the older George gets the more this is happening?

+.+.+

"No, my lady. This news was long awaited." Though the last part troubles me. Glendon Hewett was a seasoned man and a strong one, a sensible choice to command in Cotter Pyke's absence. But he was also as much a friend as Alliser Thorne could boast, and a crony of sorts with Janos Slynt, however briefly. Jon could still recall how Hewett had dragged him from his bed, and the feel of his boot slamming into his ribs. Not the man I would have chosen. He rolled the parchment up and slipped it into his belt.

Not sure what will come of this, if anything.

+.+.+

The fish course was next, but as the pike was being boned Lady Alys dragged the Magnar up onto the floor.

They consummated the marriage!

+.+.+

Axell Florent smiled. "The king might say the same if he were here. Yet some provision must be made for His Grace's leal knights, surely? They have followed him so far and at such cost. And we must needs bind these wildlings to king and realm. This marriage is a good first step, but I know that it would please the queen to see the wildling princess wed as well."

Jon sighed. He was weary of explaining that Val was no true princess. No matter how often he told them, they never seemed to hear.

Wait for it. It's building.

+.+.+

Jon had heard enough. "Ser Axell, if you are truly the Queen's Hand, I pity Her Grace."

Florent's face grew flushed with anger. "So it is true. You mean to keep her for yourself, I see it now. The bastard wants his father's seat."

The bastard refused his father's seat. If the bastard had wanted Val, all he had to do was ask for her. "You must excuse me, ser," he said. "I need a breath of fresh air." It stinks in here. His head turned. "That was a horn."

I know Stannis told him to keep his mouth shut, but I don't know why he doesn't say the quiet part out loud.

Every time Jon reminds us he rejected Cool Girl Val, I laugh.

+.+.+

"Two blasts," said Mully.

Black brothers, northmen, free folk, Thenns, queen's men, all of them fell quiet, listening. Five heartbeats passed. Ten. Twenty. Then Owen the Oaf tittered, and Jon Snow could breathe again. "Two blasts," he announced. "Wildlings." Val.

Tormund Giantsbane had come at last.

He's more excited to see Tormund. Lol

Final thoughts:

A snowflake danced upon the air. Then another. Dance with me, Jon Snow, he thought. You'll dance with me anon.

Soon!

❤️❤️❤️

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #jon x

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chaoticacademicdemon · 1 year

Text

Series Agogé, personal proyect

Chapter 1.1: “Aike”

On my way to the Agogé

What is a God? Many times I think about it when passing in front of the churches and temples of my city. After all, I live in Byblos, religion is around every corner. I understand that it is very important but I have never understood the need for so many places of worship in such a small space. Don't they tell us that we can pray to them and all that from anywhere? It really does not seem so bad to me, it is good to have so much variety but I think we have gone a bit too far.

This was where it all started after World War II. I pass in front of the statue that reminds us of Awakening Day, November 16 to be exact, the day old Ayin saw them for the first time. For a while I really liked that story, not because it was interesting, but because it happened where I lived. The Gods have always fascinated me much more unfortunately.

My city became a sacred and pilgrimage site and thus the population reached numbers never seen before, now it is what New York used to be.

In truth, I am very unlucky to have been born here, even with the great living conditions, the new capital-socialist system and the great advances in gender equality. Basically, I live in the center of today's world. I wish I had been born in Frankfurt like my father or in any other city where there was a definite God. How easy it would be to choose the protector God of your city, I can't do it because I would have to choose the entire pantheon.

If the Awakening hadn't happened, right now I would be going to the institute and not to the Agogé.Besides, I'm going to have to decide for myself a God. If I could choose, I would go for Ares or Hestia since they are the ones that could help me the most. That would have been the smart thing to do, but my 9 year old mind had to go where it shouldn't and now all my chances of making a normal pact are lost.

And here I am, I have arrived. I look at the huge planes surely full of students like me and I am filled with confidence to go through the goal. By the way, it is quite beautiful, it is a Peloponnesian style that is not exactly the most outstanding for its beauty but I love the way in which the vegetation has flooded even the highest parts. In front of me is the big square full of people eager for the start of their preparation for adulthood, but I don't want to spend three years doing math and push-ups, much less practicing with my Evepyoc. I want to go home fervently.

All motivation and confidence fade, and I put my hands in my pockets wearily. I turn around ready to leave, when a boy much younger than me approaches me, I can't say his age because I'm extremely bad at that, but he was much younger. I freeze completely when his eyes lock on mine and he stops in front of me. Please no.

- I knew it! This year you are entering the Agogé! I am a big fan!

- Yes, I don't doubt it, now if you let me...

- Are you leaving? Will you let me take a picture with you?

- Uh, well, you'll see...

- Please! I will get thousands of followers if I post a picture with you on my Insta!

- Yeah, but no thanks. I have to go.

- Oh, come on, just one please.I promise I won't post it.

- Yes, of course. - I sighed tiredly - You're lucky, today I'll let you, but in the description you put my real name and nothing else about me, understood?

Why does this happen to me? I don't want to make a bigger scene than what we are already causing, I hope not many people have recognized me, even though I am wearing very baggy clothes and a mask. My plan to get out of here until I calm down has been destroyed and now I really have to go in, thank goodness I skipped breakfast because I'm about to vomit.

At least my parents have brought my things this morning and I don't have to carry my suitcases like the rest of the students who come from abroad. I have only been able to enter this prestigious academy because of my proximity and my, how to say, turbulent past. Classes are taught in English in order to accommodate 70% international students. There is a very good admissions department and all parents dream of taking their children here to study at Agogé. It seems perfect, but right now my room seems perfect to me, not this place filled to the brim with strangers.

From the faces of some of my future classmates, it looks like I'll be the only one who isn't exactly excited about the idea of a student jail that I won't even be able to get out of to go to the movies.

The good thing is that in here there is everything, like a mini city within another, so I doubt that I'm missing anything. I'll do things right, I'll go slowly, I'll get average grades and I'll make a couple of friends, when I realize it I'll have graduated and I'll be able to go home. Aike, focus on the positive, everything will be fine.

I don't like going out, I don't like people in general, so being in the middle of the square with 2,000 or 3,000 other people is like my worst nightmare. I hope I never have a nightmare like this, I prefer to sleep well. Good thing I have Hypnos on my side, otherwise I couldn't have slept well the previous nights. My almost dissipated stress increases exponentially when I see the director on stage and notice how the doors are closing behind me.

I quickly walk to a crowded corner and blend in with the crowd almost to the right corner of the square. The speech begins like any I have seen in my few years, the typical motivational speech for students who begin this stage of their lives with new hope, and then adds:

- With this already covered, I will proceed to explain the rules for the students of the Agogé in the Mégara academy. As you already know, students will not be able to leave the campus except for emergencies and the designated dates that parents will receive in an email. Starting with the important thing, the first thing you should do is turn on your mobile phones. I can assume that everyone has already downloaded the academy application on their phones, following the instructions that we sent when enrolling. Now they must create an account.It will ask for your email, use your full name followed by @mégara.agogé.lb and you can create your account as you would with any social network. Your username cannot be changed at any time, so choose wisely, there have already been many cases of graduating students with ridiculous names.

I follow his instructions and create my account, immediately a scream is heard that I suppose was intended to be Spartan. The rest of the mobiles also emit various noises, but none as shrill and embarrassing as mine. My screen goes white, with the phrase “wait for the next instructions” in all capital letters. Why can't they put an informative video on me and watch it from my house, or my future room? This is a waste of time, we all know what's coming, the points system, the level tests, the duels. I want it to end now, but the director continues her speech.

- The Mégara academy is governed by a points system. In each duel with a student, always carried out under the supervision of a teacher, the points agreed upon in advance will be played. For example, if we do a duel to 10 points, we both pay 10 and whoever wins gets 20. It's easy, right? At the end of the month, a count of points is made and a class will be assigned depending on these. The α rank, the most difficult to achieve due to its high achievement requirement, is also the most advantageous. Points are given weekly to all students and the higher the class, the more rewards.

The points seem something important but we have not managed to explain well what they are for.The idea behind the points is to achieve equal opportunities for all of our students.- I look now at how well he speaks and moves around the stage despite his cataracts. People pay attention to what you say, and now it's time for the most important part of your speech. -The points are obtained by merits, and it will be these merits that will pay for everything that is inside here. Food costs points, books, movies, video games, the basic expenses they may have will be paid with their own means and not with their families' money. In fact, the universal currency is not accepted in any of the establishments and stores. The residence halls are also paid with their points, the most luxurious one costs more but offers better conditions such as a gym, swimming pool and sauna, as well as a kitchen in each of the rooms, which are more like flats.

That interests me, I prefer to cook my own food. In Mégara they are super secret with their internal things, I only know a little about what my father told me and the basics that are known about the points system and all that, but all the services inside are secret. My phone finally reacts and I have access to the catalog of facilities, services, residence halls and my class schedule that is empty.

I also notice that I can buy an exit pass for an hour for 1000 points, I get used to the idea that I'm going to be locked up forever.

The director explains that the schedule varies from class to class and that these will be assigned after the level test. She shows us an area to leave our luggage and I see how my poor suitcases, which had been waiting for me all morning, are crushed by hundreds of them. So basically this is capitalism, great.

Oh no, all the people have gone to leave their bags and I am left alone, my camouflage in the crowd has been lost. I look towards the stage and notice the penetrating gaze of the director, which worries me a lot because, according to what I have been told, her eyesight is severely affected by age. And if...? No, no, it can't be. And that's when I hear her say:

- It seems that we have very interesting new students.

I am about to cry at this point and all I see is that they have posted the lists of the groups in the application I run to find where I have to go. Group 7, well, well, that's a good number. Now I'm going to do a normal job and I'm going to the best room I can find for today, then I'll distribute the points and see what I need.

I arrive first at the meeting point and greet the monitor. He's huge, bald and tattooed, which I was missing, but he's pretty nice. I want to do the test that is quick and go. Hopefully it's a theoretical exam, just focus, write and leave when you're done. I want to leave and we haven't even started.I hope they give me enough points to buy tissues because I can already feel the snot running down my face, at least I'm wearing a mask. People are arriving and when we are all headed to the training ground, I feel unstoppable, ready for anything.

I see the equipment and I understand that it's discus shooting. As long as Apollo doesn't come up with something weird, I'm fine. We organize ourselves and I am the second in the fourth row. There are four lines to shoot, with a ballistic dummy at the end of each and a stack of discs at the beginning of all. We are all prepared and by our reactions you can already tell who is going to do well and who is not. The girl in front of me is shaking, and I take advantage of the noise to reach out and touch her shoulder to check if she's okay, but I only manage to make her scream. She is she I did not expect.

- Are you OK?

"Yeah!" She says she struggles through the sweat that she has completely covered her face.

"Just grab it by the edges like this and extend your arm like this," she explained as she guided him through her movements. I notice the look she gives my black gloves, I guess she looks like she's sick or something, I don't know.

- Thank you! My name is Evelynn!

- Do you have to yell for everything?

- Yeah! Hey, she waits.

- I am Aike. Well, she touches you.

- Oh yeah. Yeah!

She did well for it to be her first time. She now she touched me, what little desire.

I get into position and shoot. Perfect, balanced, that does not stand out much but that is not a suspense. It could be between a 5 and a 7 if it's done over 10, so I'm about to walk away from the lines with my puck still in the air.This is when I feel some very familiar chills and feel a draft come out of my hand. "Aeolus" I whisper, about to have an anxiety attack, a plea, a sigh, a need for him to please not do what I think he's going to do. My prayers are not enough to stop the disc that, driven by an inexplicable wind, passes through the dummy and shoots across the field, having the monitor of another team to stop it before it hits their test.

With tears streaming down my face, I cringe and run to the back, hearing all the whispers and feeling all the stares from my companions. It seriously had to happen to me today, of all days. They won't leave me alone for a single second, they don't understand that I don't want to be the center of attention. I wipe away my tears and blow my nose with a squashed handkerchief in my sweatpants. Please someone did it better than me.

The instructor tells us the points of each one in alphabetical order at the end of the test. Out of 100 points I got 100 and Evelynn 45. I wanted to get 70 at the most, but now everyone is looking at me. We walk to the next test, thank the Gods there are only three and one is a theoretical exam according to what Alex, the monitor, told me.

(Don’t want this to be really long, I’m gonna make it into 2 parts, english is my second language, if there’s something to improve let me know, thanks for making it this far <3)

#ocs #original writing #greek mitology #greek mythology #light academia #pagan witch #female leadership #teen writer #young writer #young artist #writing #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #story #fantasy #first chapter

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gayspock · 1 year

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ok miniseries liveblog . night 1

okay so for the record. what i know about battlestar galactica going into it: it's a remake of a series from the 70s; to my understanding, it's a slightly "darker" tone in comparison to other sci-fi shows of its time; ive heard vague, mixed things about later seasons of the show but i heard vague rumblings about farscape s4 & pk wars so idk what to think fo that; and that's listerally about it

i genuinely dont know anything plot-wise im going to just go into this completely blind starting with miniseries

OKAY. we're opening with a blonde girlie sucking tongue. how does this bode for the rest of the show? well we'll see. also i cant tell if all blonde girlies look the same or if she looks like skyler white.

well now whos this smart looking gent with the circular specs. does he have issues in the head-

OKAY HANG ON

WHOS THE GIRLIE WITH THE ARMS, NOUGHTIES BOY BAND HAIR, AND THE CIGAR CAN WE PAN BACK PLEASE-

STARBUCK? YOU CALLED THIS WOMAN STARBUCK?

WELL WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER GIRLIE WHOS SHE. THERES WOMEN HERE. DID YOU GUYS KNOW THAT.

i know shes the one in the right here. sorry. but whats the point of balding, divorcing men if you cant take the mick out of them. theyre like bruises to poke at.

also referring to how i knew jack shit going in: i dont know why, but in my head this was going to be a bit crunchier despite knowing its from '03. kind of sad. i wanted some ugly shit BUT in fairness those cylons were pretty funny looking, too

oh its red dress woman again

IS SHE ABOUT TO KILL THAT BABY?

COME ON GIRLIE.

also im fascinated - hey.... sorry red dress woman reappeared again , not in a red dress but instead in that sheer little number? okay.... all is forgiven... like. maybe it wasnt even her fault.. maybe shes allowed to kill babies like its just a #woman moment ... can women fucking do anything these days like please

oh now shes eating face . busy schedule with this woman

also my interest is piqued btw i should say that. im always a fan of artifical lifeforms BU

CAN YOU BE POLITE TO THE LITTLE MECHANIC GUY WHOS JUST SO EAGER AND HERE TOHELP. i will also say theres so many people here. do i have to remember allthese people. and i reemmber 0 names. smile.

like this. is this the other woman from earlier-

are they

WHYS EVERYONE SUCKING AND FUCKING

OKAY I LIKED HER AND I LIKED HIM SO I SHANT COMPLAIN BUT MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS ME. i liked polite mechanic guy whats his name. and like i said the girlie is cute too. i love women.

oh fuck back to red dress lass and fucking GAIUS i remember his name because hes got long hair, he's shorter and his name is fucking GAIUS . can you not take the piss out of blondie's religion. she literally kills babies she can kill you too i dont doubt.

i hate gaius' voice. fucking gaius

sorry i dont know why im this strongly against gaius i just feel violent today. i dont mean it. maybe gaius is nice. maybe i will be affectionate towards gaius. but i kind of want to kick him around like a football.

theres also this polite young man i see with the curly hair and the sensible yet charming little suits

I LIKE THE OLDER GUY WHO HAD GLASSES. THE IN CHARGE GENT. I LIKE HIM THUS FAR. YEAH. DONT LET THEM NETWORK THIS BITCH. SO TRUE.

oh hey starbucks

starbuck

frappycunio

DONT FUCKING SHACK HER UP WITH THIS LAD EITHER. YOU BETTER NOT. HE'S GOT A RAT FACE. IS THIS THE LAD WHOS MEANT TO FLY THE THINGY. YEAH

oh so it's "lee" is it. with the dead brother. ii dont care. starbuck and lee it doesnt even make sense.

and going BACK hi red dres- HE DID N OT. I KNEW IT. FUCKIN GAIUS. SLAG. MAN SLAG I KNEW IT. I TOLD YOU. LETS KICK HIM ABOUT LIKE A FOOTBALL. HE'LL SQUEAK

hi lee.

MISTER IN CHARGE IS DIVORCED. EPIC.

and lee hates him. oh i love it when there's family strife. girls. FIGHT.

back to gaius and blondie

"you knew i was different" blondie maybe he just thought you had the tism . its charming. that autistic rizz.

ibtw towards gaius to clarify , i wasnt HOSTILE-HOSTILE towards gaius before just thinking about teething with him but now hes kind of whimpering and it slike so im giggling MORE thnan i was as im kicking him about does that make sense. i want to play silly golf with him

mister in charge. adama. do i call him that now. hes got his specs back on. hi-

SEE. WET. WHIMPERING. PATHETIC. [STARTS BEATING HIM UP]

number 6 is that going to be her name now.

i feel cheeky calling her blondie

MATE

THE BALDING DIVORCEE.

also other girlie from earlier... boomer is her name... i like her too. smile.

also i like this woman. uhm i, sorry i didnt get her name... the government official. theres lots of girlies for me to smile about

FUCKING GAIUS MADE IT. OF COURSE YOU DID GAIUS. WEE PRICK.

hi lee, again... can you be friendly to the photographer.

acrually nevermind its that guy. fucks sake. HE HATES WOMEN. FUCK THE PHOTOGRAPHER. LEE GET HIS ASS.

okay thank god. lady is in charge. GOOD.

also are you kidding me is gaius about to get pulled by the lottery by boomer and bloke because thats so funny. especially with the kids. imagine being 10 years old and abandoning your parent for fucking gaius to be on board

ALSO BOOMER'S LITTLE BOYTOY... I LIKED HIM... youre scaringhim. hurting his feelings. booooo

"AREN'T YOU GAIUS BALTAR." "yeah i haVENT DONE ANYTHING" FUCKING GAIUS. TYPICAL.

boomer's bestie ... are you kidding me. HELO? HELLO . YOURE GIVING UP THE SEAT FOR FUCKING GAIUS. JOKES. ITS JOKES AT THIS POINT.

also LAURA. government girlie is laura... now president laura of the world. girlboss

can WE ALL JUST. RESPECT WOMEN. THINGY OF EDUCATION. SO SHE A LEARNED WOMAN. WHATS THE PROBLEM. LEAVE HER ALONE.

a woman can survive any blast. shes fine. i know she is

although then again... if your fucking callsign is apollo i dont know what the hell you expect

okay end of part 1

#Egg.txt #bsg liveblog

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yhwhrulz · 9 months

Text

Morning and Evening with A.W. Tozer Devotional for August 7

Tozer in the Morning Prophetic Leaders

There has probably never been another time in the history of the world when so many people knew so much about religious happenings as they do today. The newspapers are eager to print religious news; the secular news magazines devote several pages of each issue to the doings of the church and the synagogue; a number of press associations gather church news and make it available to the religious journals at a small cost. Even the hiring of professional publicity men to plug one or another preacher or religious movement is no longer uncommon; the mail is stuffed with circulars and ?releases,? while radio and television join to tell the listening public what religious people are doing throughout the world.

Greater publicity for religion may be well and I have no fault to find with it. Surely religion should be the most newsworthy thing on earth, and there may be some small encouragement in the thought that vast numbers of persons want to read about it. What disturbs me is that, amidst all the religious hubbub, hardly a voice is raised to tell us what God thinks about the whole thing.

Where is the man who can see through the ticker tape and confetti to discover which way the parade is headed, why it started in the first place and, particularly, who is riding up front in the seat of honor?

Not the fact that the churches are unusually active these days, not what religious people are doing, should engage our attention, but why these things are so. . . .

Tozer in the Evening HERE FOR OUR TIME

Just as those who lived in the past had the privilege of being God's people of faith then, so do we in our own day! It is good to come to the understanding that while God wants us to be holy and Spirit-filled, He does not expect us to look like Abraham or to play the harp like David or to have the same spiritual insights given to Paul. All of the former heroes of the faith are dead. You are alive in your generation. A Bible proverb says that it is better to be a living dog than a dead lion. You may wish to be Abraham or Isaac or Jacob, but remember they have been asleep for centuries, and you are still around! You can witness for our Lord today! You can still pray! You can still give of your substance to help those who are in need! In this, your own generation, give God all your love, all your devotion. You do not know what holy, happy secret God may want to whisper to your responsive heart!

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back-and-totheleft · 11 months

Text

The Son Also Kneels

Oliver Stone was deplaning at LAX following a 16-hour trip from Indonesia when he turned on his phone and found it blowing up with texts from his office. Apparently the media—what he called the “paparazzi”—had been in touch. They wanted to ask him about his son, Sean.

In particular, they wanted to know what he thought of Sean’s decision to become a Muslim. Oliver instructed his office to decline comment.

“He never consulted me,” the elder Mr. Stone recalled in a phone call to The Observer from his production office in Los Angeles. “That is something you normally talk to your parents about.”

The director is a practicing Buddhist. “Obviously the Muslim religion believes in a singular god,” he added. “I don’t.”

Sean Stone, a 27-year-old filmmaker who was raised a Buddhist and spent his youth exploring his Christian and Jewish roots (not to mention any number of film sets), is like his old man, a determined—some would say obstinate—truth-seeker. He is also a man of firm opinions who is unafraid to express them in a highly public fashion.

But to peg him, as one Yahoo! News commenter did recently, as “another nut from a spoiled confused family,” is to miss the point entirely.

To hear him tell it, accepting Islam as his faith (and adopting a new Muslim middle name, Ali) is a demonstration that one man can embrace three Abrahamic religions as a gesture of peace.

“I don’t take a priest’s interpretation as sanctity,” he said. “I would not take an imam’s ruling on the Koran as being definitive. I would not take anyone’s word except my own interpretation of the books.”

Mr. Stone’s conversion was only part of his recent media coming-out party. In announcing his newfound faith, he eagerly stepped into perhaps the thorniest foreign policy question of the moment: whether Iran is secretly developing nuclear weapons, and whether its president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, is a total nutjob.

“My main thing is I don’t want to see a war, an imperialistic war, because I know what it could do to the region,” he said. Mr. Stone also defended Mr. Ahmadinejad—the man who infamously referred to the Holocaust as a “myth” and declared that Israel should be “wiped off a map”—as a “rational actor.”

“The media is so biased in trying to paint him as a madman, because if he is a madman, you can’t talk to him,” he explained to The Observer.

Mr. Stone first met with Mr. Ahmadinejad in February, when he was a featured guest at the “Hollywoodism and Cinema” conference in Tehran. The president gave him a copy of Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat.

When asked what they talked about, Mr. Stone didn’t really remember. The meeting might have seemed an opportunity to do some diplomatic work for his father, who had been eager to follow up his documentary portraits of Fidel Castro and Hugo Chavez with one on Mr. Ahmadinejad, but had been rebuffed (many Iranians took issue with perceived historical inaccuracies in his Alexander the Great biopic). Still, the younger Stone didn’t push the issue.

It soon became clear that Mr. Stone’s views on Iran are not all that radical. For instance, shortly after he defended his opinions to network news blowhards Bill O’Reilly and Piers Morgan, Meir Dagan, the former head of the Mossad, appeared on 60 Minutes to declare that bombing Iran right now was “the stupidest idea [he] ever heard.”

Still, his comments were controversial, even within his own family. “When you’re younger, you can make mistakes by saying what people don’t want to hear,” the elder Mr. Stone noted. “Sometimes he says stuff that I think is downright fucking stupid.”

The Observer met the Son of Oliver at a rear table at Think Coffee by Union Square one March morning.

Tall, strapping and square-jawed, Sean Christopher Ali Stone appeared more Winklevii than Wahabi. He did not have his father’s self-described “Mongol eyes” or the gap between his teeth.

What he did have, however, was the family curiosity, and that knack for taking controversial positions.

“I think it’s important to have that spirit of inquiry, that spirit of investigation,” Mr. Stone said as he periodically sipped from a cup of chai tea. “If you keep slandering people, calling them ‘conspiracy theorists,’ you’re killing the desire to investigate, the desire to actually know.”

Mr. Stone, who is single and divides his time between Los Angeles and New York’s Alphabet City, wanted to make it clear that his highly publicized spiritual transformation was not intended as a publicity gambit.

It all began on Valentine’s Day 2010, when he and his filmmaking partner, Alexander Wraith, were at Letchworth Village, an abandoned institution for the mentally and physically disabled in Rockland County. They were there to film Graystone, Mr. Stone’s feature debut, about two men (named Sean and Alexander) who visit supposedly haunted sites to explore their belief in the supernatural.

He and Mr. Wraith had brought along candles from St. Patrick’s Cathedral, which they lit and placed on the ground as they prayed aloud. They heard screams and howls and a child’s laughter, which scared them both shitless.

“That’s why there’s an expression ‘There are no atheists in foxholes,’” he said. “Either you find your faith and you believe that there is a higher power guiding you and protecting you, or else you basically surrender it and say there is no God.”

Two years later to the day, Mr. Stone found himself in Isfahan, Iran, sitting inside a mosque across from a Shiite cleric, explaining his reasons for wanting to be a Muslim. He was accompanied by a man named Bahram Heidari, an Iranian living in Canada who was helping him develop a feature film about the Sufi poet Rumi (Mr. Stone is also prepping a documentary on djinn, or genies). With an Iranian TV news crew on hand to document the occasion, Mr. Stone said the shahada, the Muslim declaration of belief.

“I didn’t ‘convert,’” he pointed out, “because I don’t believe you can convert from the same God. It’s an acceptance of Islam as an extension of what I call the Judeo-Christian tradition going back to Abraham.”

He said he was surprised the event generated so much attention. “We had not arranged for any press,” he said. “We don’t know how they found out about it.”

But when everyone from CNN to Agence France-Presse jumped on the story, he went with it. He later defended Iran on cable news. “It seems that every time we sanction this country and turn the bolts tighter around it … it’s just going to make them potentially more radical and dangerous,” he said. “You can’t just bomb your way to an accord.” While defending Mr. Ahmadinejad, he also was emphatic that “there is no room for Holocaust denial.” (Not long ago, his father also was quoted minimizing the Holocaust.)

It’s not hard to understand how Mr. Stone developed a certain sympathy for men of strong convictions who are unafraid to offend.

“He says things that rile people, I’m not going to deny that,” Mr. Stone said of Mr. Ahmadinejad. He says the same about his dad. “I think he likes controversy,” Mr. Stone said. “I think as much as anything, he likes that people get riled.”

Sean Stone was born in Santa Monica in 1984, the eldest child of Oliver and Elizabeth Burkit Fox, a production assistant and Oliver’s second wife.

He made his screen debut at 6 months, with a cameo in Salvador. At age 2, he was playing Gordon Gekko’s kid, “a fat little capitalist son,” as he put it.

His earliest and clearest film memory was being on the set of Born on the Fourth of July, in which he was among a group of kids shooting at each other with fake guns in the woods.

“That’s pretty intense when you’re, like, 4,” he said.

Mr. Stone’s early film career was more a matter of convenience than raw talent. “He was available and I thought he was photogenic,” his dad admitted.

Sean’s parents separated in 1993 (“It was not an easy divorce,” Oliver said), and Sean and his brother Michael lived with Elizabeth. When he could, Oliver took Sean on weekend trips “where he could be outside the normal Los Angeles ‘shop, drive, and die’ routine,” said Oliver.

They also traveled the world, from East Africa to Tibet, where Oliver, an Episcopalian who had converted to Buddhism, introduced the then 9-year-old Sean to the Dalai Lama.

“It’s a different kind of Buddhism, it’s an atomistic form,” Oliver said. “It must have been amazing for him.” The experience was eye-opening, Sean said. It inspired him to take up the practice of meditation and fostered a curiosity about all forms of spirituality. It was also around that time that Sean began to discover his father’s films, each one violent and provocative and dubious about the powers that be.

Mr. Stone was 7 when his father released JFK, a film that brought a mix of reviews both approving and vitriolic. The knocks on his father bothered him at the time, and still do. “Of course it hurts,” he said. “To me it’s a disgrace that so many people get away with calling him a conspiracy theorist, when the truth is he’s always based his work on evidence. He does his homework.”

After graduating from Brentwood School, just around the same time the second Iraq war was getting underway, Mr. Stone considered joining the Army, “more out of a desire to have a life experience,” he said. (Oliver, who dropped out of Yale and eventually enlisted in the Army in 1967, earning a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star for his service in Vietnam, recognized the impulse.) Rather than enlist, Mr. Stone wound up at Princeton, where he enrolled in the ROTC, bailing after a semester to focus on academics.

In 2009, after apprenticing with his father, Sean began to focus on his own filmmaking, starting with Graystone, which will be released on video-on-demand in the fall.

Mr. Stone’s long-term goal is to be a filmmaker, though his father is quick to tamp down expectations. “It’s very hard to assume the mantle, so to speak,” Oliver said. “It’s true about anybody in any profession, whether you’re the stockbroker’s son or a garbage man’s son.”

Mr. Stone agrees that it will be hard to step out from his father’s shadow and make a name for himself, though that new middle name of his is certainly a start.

Even so, his embrace of Islam goes only so far. For instance, Mr. Stone isn’t quite ready to forswear alcohol altogether.

“I know plenty of Christians and Jews who violate the Testaments all the time,” he pointed out. “It all depends on how you practice.”

-Daniel Edward Rosen, "The Son Also Kneels," The Observer, Mar 28 2012

#oliver stone #sean stone #islam #the observer

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nsfwshiggy · 3 years

Text

heaven

_______________________________________________

paring: shigaraki x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, virgin reader, public sex, noncon/dubcon, rough, exhibitionism, creampie

word count: 1.8k

author's note: yay i'm finally writing again. i've been imagining this for a few weeks now so i decided to write about it. if you are religious maybe don't read it? idk please enjoy lol kinda nervous to see if anyone will actually enjoy this one D:

_______________________________________________

you had thought about this many times before. if you were going to lose your virginity it would be done the way you wanted. you had no reason why you put it off for so long other than you just didn't care. it wasn't a big deal to lose it way into your twenties. no one was good enough to take it.

you had used toys since you were in high school so at least it wasn't going to hurt the first time and you knew what you were in for. you weren't going to be a log just laying there while some man pushed in and out of you.

there were many guys that you were interested in but they always seemed to fall through, you eventually just gave up. now you didn't care who it was as long as they were clean.

you were talking to this one guy, shigaraki, for awhile now and during the talking period you had mentioned that you wanted to find someone to take your virginity. like all men you said this to, he was interested but you had to see if it would actually happen. you continued to talk to him about it and how you wanted it done.

in the parking lot of a church while they were in service

since you were young, a religion was forced onto you and you were took to church every sunday and sometimes wednesday. you hated everything about it. you hated how some people would forced their religion on other people and hated the different views they had against people who were different.

you were never interested in any of it and you had always heard that you had to save yourself until marriage. shigaraki didn't care about your terms and conditions, all he cared about was getting to be the first time for someone.

you had told him before that you didn't care how rough he was or if he used a condom. you had been on birth control for awhile now and you had somehow developed a breeding kink but you hadn't told him about that part. you two were to meet sunday morning when the sunday services were being let out, when it was nice and bright outside.

you couldn't lie you were nervous not to mention that this was a crime. apart from being nervous you were beyond excited at the same time. it was finally going to happy the way you wanted it done. you were in control.

while pulling up to the parking lot you could see how packed it was, it made your stomach flip. they would be getting out soon so you need to hurry and find a spot and then get to shigaraki's car. you made it easier for the both of you and wore something that would be easy to work with. just a simple flowy dress that he could easily push up.

you had been walking for a little bit trying to find his car until you found it and it was right in front of the doors where they would be walking out. "nice parking spot" you told him while getting in the car. you heard him laugh while you look down at your phone to check the time.

he was definitely way hotter in person than any of his pictures so that was a plus. "we don't have much time before they get dismissed so we should probably hurry" you tell him while going over the seat to get into the back, pretty spacious and it would work just fine.

you didn't know what to do to him to get him ready so for a few seconds you just looked at him when he finally got in the back. fuck what now? you could feel the heat in your face rising and your cheeks became hot when you noticed how he was staring at you.

he slowly moved towards you until your lips finally touched. you had done this before with just about anyone who wanted to so you were okay with this. you moved one hand onto the back of his neck and the other hand slowly found it's way towards his thigh. like it had a mind of its own, it moved closer and closer towards the place you wanted the most.

while taking a few moments to breathe in-between the kissing his pants become unbuttoned and were now half way down his thighs. it was just enough for what you both were going to do. your hand was now tugging at his boxers to release his now semi-hard dick. "you can get hard just from kissing? you are pretty easy" you laugh at him. you loved poking fun at guys by how easily they could get hard.

"well let's see how wet you got just from kissing, shall we?" he says with raised eyebrows. he lifted up your dress to your waist and could now see your panties. "do you think it would have been easier to wear none?" he asks while pulling them down. his fingers trailed up your leg from your ankle until they reached the spot where he would soon enter.

he let out a small laugh once he felt the wetness that was coming from you, "for a virgin you can get wet pretty fast" he says while moving his finger up and down your slit. you let out a gasp from the unfamiliar sensation, it was always you touching yourself so it felt different when it was someone else. you hadn't used any of your toys for awhile so you had become sensitive to any kind of touching.

"please…" you manage to moan out gripping his thigh once he slipped a finger inside of you. his fingers were long and slender so they went deeper than yours, it felt so good to have something inside of you again. "please what?" he asks, "what does the little virgin want me to do to her?"

hearing him say that made you clinch around the now two fingers that were inside of you. you had always talked dirty while texting but since it was in person, it made your whole body tingle. "please fuck me" you tell him while trying to move on his fingers for more friction.

he smiled at you while you did this, "you looked so desperate right now" he tells you while sliding his fingers out of you leaving you with an empty feeling. he turned you over so now you were facing the window, "you want people to see you get fucked, don't you?" he questioned you with a slap on your right cheek.

you were on your hands and knees with your ass in the air. you looked back at him, he had the fingers that were just inside you inside his mouth licking your wetness off. you were shaking with how eager you were, you just wanted him to fuck you already but he was going too slow.

you were running out of time so you decided to sit back on him with your ass on his exposed dick, "please hurrrry" you say dragging out your words while slowly moving your bottom against him. he grabbed your waist and pushed you down against him to grind even harder against his swollen dick.

he pushed you up again into the position you were in before, "are you ready?" he asks while sitting up so now the tip of his dick was touching your wet slit. you nod your head quickly because you could now see people starting to walk out of the building.

he grabs onto your waist once again before slowly sliding into you. your mouth falls open at him stretching you open, something that you hadn't felt for a long time so there was some stinging like how it was when you first used your dildo. because you told him before that he could be as rough as he wanted, he didn't give you any time to adjust.

he pushed in and out of you quickly making sure to reach deep inside of you each time. the sensation was something you had never felt before but you craved for it more and more. you had ringing in your ears and were unable to answer to anything he said. the only thing coming out of you were noises you had made by yourself when everybody was asleep.

you put your arms against the window and pushed further back onto him, "d-deeper" you manage to say to him. every time you would push back on him he would meet you by slamming into you making him go even further into you, he was now pressing against your womb with each thrust.

you looked out the window to see even more people exiting and walking towards the car. you knew people could see you by the looks on their faces as they walked closer. a smile was growing across your face when you see their hands flying up to cover their mouths.

"aw looks like they aren't enjoying the show" shigaraki says from behind you slapping your ass again making you moan louder. you were getting closer and closer to the edge and seeing all the people watching you was only helping get there faster.

"shi-shigaraki, i'm going to…" you try to finish your sentence but before you could you feel him cumming against your womb. it was so warm and a weird feeling having something so warm deep inside of you. the feeling of his cum deep inside you and all of the people watching you, was the final push you needed.

shigaraki was reaching in front of you rubbing your clit as your stomach was tightening around his cock, you missed this feeling. it was pure bliss. your eyes rolled back. it was nothing like how it was when it was just you. you didn't know why you put this off for so long. shigaraki continued to push into you while you rode out your high before pulling out.

you could feel his cum running down your leg and pooling onto the seat under you. your legs were on fire so you just fell against the door watching all the people watch you. you had a smile on your face. it had finally been done. the way you wanted it done.

©️nsfwshiggy

#mha smut #bnha smut #boku no hero x reader #my hero academia smut #boku no hero smut #boku no hero x you #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura

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another-rational-deception · 3 years

Note

can u do shoji, gang orca, and momo with an s/o who wears a headscarf?? reader doesn’t have to be muslim, any headscarf will do BUT if you do make them muslim can you also do how those three would be with the reader while they fast for Ramadan?

Thanks so much! If u don’t end up doing it then at least have a nice day :)

Hey! Ofc I can do this. I actually wear a headscarf myself, on occasion (for spiritual reasons). If there’s anything I got wrong about Islam/Ramadan please let me know!

I’m also realising how painfully obvious my favouritism toward shoji is 💀

D*rk content/n*fw blogs, do not interact with me at all.

Shoji, Gang Orca, and Momo with s/o who wears a headscarf

Mezo Shoji

While he doesn’t wear the mask for spiritual or religious reasons, he does relate the whole “covering yourself” thing

He’s the most attentive of the three to if you’re wearing a different pattern, if you’ve worn the same one for a while, etc

When he needs to wash his masks he would ask to wash your headscarf’s at the same time. He knows they need washed when you wear the same one for a long time.

He’s also attentive to if they’ve been damaged. I don’t think he’s too good with a needle (his hands are absolutely massive) but one of his parents would probably be good with sewing. He’d offer to have them fix it for you.

If you wear the scarf simply for spiritual reasons (for example, some people wear it because they believe their hair is an extension of their soul/spirit, and they wish to protect it. Depending on the person, they might not always wear it around people. This is actually my belief system :)) he carries one with him, so if you’re not wearing it out but you then feel you need it, he’s got it right there for you.

If you wear it because you are Muslim, he’s very careful to not touch you. He’s not very touchy in the first place, so he has no trouble with it.

If it comes off somehow, he’s immediately covering you with his arms and averting his gaze.

He just waits for you to put it back on and makes sure no one gets the chance to see your hair.

As for Ramadan, he needs an explanation. When you just tell him you fast for a month, he think you mean no food at all for a month straight. Like a water fast.

He understands when you explain further though

He sets an alarm so he can help you wake up for Suhur, and the same for your prayers.

Because his quirk relies a lot on his muscular ability, he might not be able to fast with you, but he would try if you asked him to.

He might even offer at first, out of curiosity and wanting to experience it with you.

Momo Yaoyorozu

Absolutely amazing.

She learned how to make all of your favourite patterns and colours on headscarves for you. Though, she only really makes them if yours got damaged and you can’t go get another one.

She loves to go shopping with you, when you need to get more, or if you just want to look at designs.

She also definitely knows how to sew, so these trips are really offered by you.

She’s very smart, and has probably studied many religions from across the world. She would probably know your religion if you told her what it was (considering so many religions wear headscarves, it’s impossible for her to tell what you practice just by the scarf alone)

In the case that she doesn’t recognise your practice, though, she’s eager to learn about it. If you don’t want to teach her, she’ll research it on her own, and if you do want to be her teacher, she’s ecstatic.

If you are Muslim; during Ramadan, while she would love to fast with you, she can’t. Her quirk relies on her to be almost constantly eating, and it would be very dangerous for her to go the whole day without eating while using her quirk all day.

However, if she would be allowed, she would love to eat with you during Suhur or Iftar. If she can’t, she’s completely fine with that, but she’ll definitely text or message you when they both start.

Kūgo Sakamata (Gang Orca)

He’s not very well educated on word religions, so some explanation is definitely needed on his part.

In terms of the scarf itself, he’s not really good a sewing (massive hands again). He doesn’t have a lot of experience with people wearing headscarves, but he’s willing to learn.

One thing he does excel at is covering you. Before you even know your scarf came off he’s covering you with his cape.

No one is gonna try to get passed the giant man with razor claws and teeth.

He will go shopping with you for new scarves, though.

Like Shoji, he’s very careful to not touch you in the case that you practice Islam. In fact, one of the first things he asked you when he learned of your beliefs was what he should and shouldn’t do.

The last thing he’d ever want to do is cross the boundaries, so one of the first things he had the both of you do in the relationship was sit down and put down boundaries with each other.

As for Ramadan, he sets up his phone so you automatically get a message from him at a certain time to wake you up for Suhur.

His work is long and hard, so he needs to sleep as much as he can on work days, and on his days off he just wants to sleep in.

He also doesn’t have much interest in fasting with you, and would politely decline if you asked him.

However, in the case you weren’t able to have Iftar with any family or go to a mosque, he would have it ready for you.

His love language is definitely words of affirmation, so if he were unable to be there for Iftar with you, he would at least leave a lovely letter for you along with the food.

i wanna say again here that if i have any wrong information in here or if ive said anything harmful in anyway, please let me know so i can change this as soon as possible! thanks for reading♥️

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peaceisadirtyword · 3 years

Text

Heathen V (Ivar/Edlynn)

A/N: Hello! I might have gotten a bit carried away with this(?) Sorry😅 I hope it’s not too boring though🥺 I was just going to rewrite the ending and suddenly... I had 1000 more words💀 anyway, I hope you like it!♥️ In this chapter I talk about norse mythology and christianity, and even if I’ve read about it (norse mythology, at least) I’m by no means an expert, so I had to consult some friends and people I know that are professionals. In any case, I’m sorry if I wrote anything wrong, please tell and forgive me.

Btw, thank you so much for your messages! I’m feeling better now🥰 I watched some videos of Alex and Marco and I calmed down a bit! I suppose I just need to relax a bit, it’s okay, but seriously thank you for your messages and for always being so understanding with me💞🙏🏻

Warnings: talk about religion, mentions of violence, war and all that sh1t... Ivar is too perfect I’d like to marry him but, unfortunately, I can't

Words: don’t hate me but there’s 5492 words under this... I hope it’s worth it (?)

Heathen Masterlist

gif belongs to @therealcalicali

For Edlynn, it was both scary and hypnotizing to see Ivar learning how to read. He seemed to understand things quickly and even if they didn't really have any materials for him to practice writing, Edlynn saw him carving letters on wood more than once, like he did with the runes. In a few days, Ivar could understand some parts of the books, even if he still needed help, and Edlynn remembered bitterly how much time it took for her to learn basic words and how many times the priest that taught her and her siblings scolded her.

In return, Ivar agreed to tell her a bit more about his culture. He talked about the Gods, even showed some runes to her, she asked him to show her their longships, and was amazed by the carvings and the designs. Sometimes, she'd ask him to translate some words from English to Norse, and soon became obsessed with his language, trying to memorize everything she could for when she went back home. Mildrith would love it.

"Can we go back to reading?" Ivar sighed, raising an eyebrow when Edlynn asked him to translate a few words more. He had spent the entire day with Hvitserk and was on a good mood, but he was also tired.

"Yes, sorry" she blushed a bit, realizing her eagerness was probably improper "Just one more, please"

Ivar nodded slowly. He found her excitement adorable, and he had to hold back a smile more than once when she tried to repeat some words with a soft voice.

"How do you say sun and moon?" she tilted her head, curiously "It's true that they are Gods for you?"

Mildrith had told her once that the northman she had been with had told her that they worshipped the sun and the moon, as if they were Saints or Gods. And, for some reason, Edlynn became obsessed with it.

"Those are two words" Ivar smirked "But they are Sól and Máni, and they are Gods, yes, but slightly different from the Aesir and the Vanir" he shrugged "It's a long story"

Edlynn waited a few more seconds, maybe expecting for him to keep telling the story.

"So the moon is a Goddess?"

Ivar hummed, nodding.

"She's a woman, sister to Sól, the sun" he shrugged.

"That makes sense" Edlynn bit her lip, interested "But, how can you say they are a man and a woman? They're not humans" she smiled softly, amused "They can't be man and woman"

"But they are" Ivar frowned "It's like that story of yours about the Virgin, I've heard that one before, how can you tell she was a virgin?" he shrugged.

"Because God chose her to carry his son, the one who would bring His word to us"

"You christians are too obsessed with virginity" Ivar rolled his eyes. Edlynn felt her cheeks burn, and cleared her throat.

"It's a sin not to be a virgin when you get married"

"Yes, I've heard a lot about those sins" Ivar nodded "And I still think it's ridiculous, why would your God demand that you deny the pleasure of having sex to yourselves?"

"It's an act of purity, of faith" Edlynn narrowed her eyes. She knew the northmen were much less... Traditional, with these things, and sometimes she felt somehow curious. It wasn't a topic that was very discussed at the court, and much less at home with her father... Once, Edlynn and Mildrith saw a couple on the stables and asked Hilda about it. The nun was so angry at them that she made them pray for hours, and then made them promise they wouldn't go around talking about it.

"It's stupid" Ivar shrugged "You would be much happier if you forgot about that"

The girl pressed her lips together, a bit bothered. Ivar's smirk showed he was trying to get a reaction from her, but Edlynn wouldn't start arguing.

"I didn't expect a heathen to understand it" she shrugged.

Ivar chuckled, shaking his head.

"I've spent maybe too much time around christians to understand many things, but I still believe your God is weak" he licked his lips "Compared to Odin and Thor, he's weak and demanding"

She ignored him, looking back at the books and parchments they were studying. Finally, Ivar stood up, making Edlynn raise her head as he walked over to the bed, and sat down to take his braces off. She watched as his fingers worked quickly on them, freeing his legs. When Ivar started taking his clothes, she stiffened, blushing again, and stood up to tidy the books and avoid looking at him. If she had looked, she would have seen Ivar's amused smile.

"The day and the night are also man and a woman" he continued, startling Edlynn. She turned to look at him, curious, but turned around when she realized he was shirtless "What? Are you also not allowed to look at me?"

"It's not proper" she muttered, looking down. During the nights she had been sharing his tent, she always slept with her back turned to him, and usually she would already be asleep when he went to bed.

"Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?"

Edlynn hesitated, but finally turned around. He was doing it to bother her, and wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing it was working. The sight left her breathless. Ivar was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, but not only his face was beautiful; he was strong, she had already noticed it when he grabbed her for the first time. Edlynn tried her best to avoid staring at his beautiful hair, collected in braids and tied that fell down his back and shoulder.

"Dagr is the day, and he's the son of Nótt, the night, Odin gave each of them a chariot that they can ride on the sky... And two horses, Skinfaxi and Hrímfaxi" his own finger pointed at his chest, which was crossed by dark lines. Those strange drawings on his skin were normal among the northmen; she had seen those on their arms, necks, faces... It was weird but she had to bite her tongue more than once to avoid asking about them.

Ivar had also another one on his back. Edlynn couldn't see much, but from the few glimpses she had caught, it looked like a snake. The ones he showed now had an intricate pattern, and she frowned softly while looking at them.

"They don't look like horses"

That made Ivar chuckle, but he didn't say anything else as she approached him, her eyes still fixed on his chest. When she was close enough, she raised her hand slowly.

"Can I?"

Ivar tensed, but finally nodded softly. Edlynn didn't know what to expect when her fingers touched the dark ink, but was somewhat surprised by the feeling of his skin. It was warm and his muscles tensed under her touch when her finger roamed around his chest following the lines. It was hypnotizing, and she couldn't feel anything else that wasn't Ivar.

She found his necklace. It was always hidden under his clothes, so it caught her attention. The question was written all over her face when she looked at his eyes again.

"Mjölnir" he answered quietly "Thor's hammer"

Edlynn nodded. She had heard about that, and thought it would be something like the cross that hang from her own neck.

Finally, she moved her hand backwards, almost like she just realized what she was doing and was suddenly too shy to keep touching him. Ivar's eyes were still fixed on Edlynn as she turned around, getting away from him faster than he would have liked, and soon she was laying on her side of the bed, with her back turned to him and her body tense and stiff, not bothering to cover herself.

______________________________

Edlynn was amazed by the shieldmaidens. She had heard about them more than once, since she was a kid, and sometimes imagined herself with a sword when she watched her brother, Edward, train with their father. But when she said it once, during dinner, everyone turned to look at her with widened eyes. Both her father and her sister reprimanded her; the battlefield is no place for women, you're needed at home, praying and taking care of the children.

Since then, the thought hadn't crossed her mind again.

She also saw the two viking women training when they were staying with King Alfred. They moved gracefully, and easily defeated male warriors, it was entertaining and interesting to see, and Mildrith and her would always sit and watch her, but always under the stern gaze of their fathers. Once, the blonde woman she had often seen with Bishop Heahmund offered them to try. Edlynn remembered the soft smile and how she approached them. She was sure her face lightened up, but as soon as she opened her mouth, Lord Eldred was behind her, he gripped her shoulder with maybe too much force. His daughter wouldn't go near a sword, he had said sternly. And the viking woman sighed, shooting her a sad smile before leaving.

But in that camp, even with her wrists tied and three northmen around her, she was free to watch as much as she wanted.

There was a group of many women, training with her swords, axes and shields. They fought fiercely, but laughing and hugging each other, and Edlynn was amazed. She barely blinked and didn't know how much time she had been there watching them. The women didn't seem to care, and she felt more at ease around them than around the men.

But when she turned her head, startled by some other sounds coming from her right, something else caught her attention. The first thing she saw was Hvitserk dodging a dagger as he trained with another viking. She knew that dagger, and soon her eyes fixed on Ivar, who was leant on a tree and smirked softly. He had a horn on his hand, and his eyes shone as they only did when he was around his brother. Next to him, Edlynn saw some arrows and a wooden bow, an axe and another sword.

He hadn't seen her, and she stayed silent and still, watching. He was relaxed, laughing and had a playful smirk on his lips. In some way, he was even more handsome. Soon, he got tired of just watching and grabbed the bow and arrows, tensing it slowly. His gaze was fixed on the tree in front of him, and Edlynn couldn't help but stare at him as his whole body tensed. She remembered when her brother learnt archery, when his arms were always shaking. Ivar didn't move a single muscle until he shoot the arrow.

"Don't miss, brother, you have an audience" Hvitserk's voice startled both Ivar and Edlynn, and when his eyes finally landed on her, his expression changed. She wasn't able to point exactly what changed, but Ivar barely looked at her.

"See something you like, princess?"

Edlynn felt her cheeks burn, and pressed her lips together when she heard the guards and some other men chuckling behind her, refusing to let them see her. Ivar also smirked, leaning to grab another arrow.

"I was just watching" she muttered. Ivar looked amused when he turned his head to look at her.

"Want to try?" he pointed at the tree. Edlynn hesitated, knowing that grabbing a bow and shooting arrows wasn't proper. But then again... There was no one there to scold her, right? And probably, if King Alfred reached an agreement with them, she wouldn't have to see any of them again.

She nodded softly, feeling a strange rush of excitement like the ones she used to feel when she was little and did something that was strictly forbidden. Ivar nodded at the guards and they let her go after untying her wrists.

"I don't think you have done this before, am I right?"

Edlynn narrowed her eyes at him and snatched the bow from his hands, making him laugh. It was heavier than she ever thought, and nearly let it fall to the ground. But she could already imagine how much the men would laugh if she dropped the bow.

"Turn around" Ivar ordered, and Edlynn obeyed slowly, still hesitating and nervous because of all those pairs of eyes fixed on her, studying her every move. She wasn't a warrior, but a noble lady that lived in a castle, so her movements were clumsy and not graceful at all.

She startled and nearly jumped when Ivar's hands touched her waist.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, widening her eyes.

"Don't you want to learn?" Ivar shrugged, an innocent tone on his voice that Edlynn didn't believe.

His strong hands moved her effortlessly, and she tried not to blush even more when she felt Ivar's body closer to hers. She could even feel his breathing behind her neck.

Ivar worked in silence, making sure she was on the right position before taking a new arrow. Edlynn frowned when she tensed the bow and her arms started shaking, even if Ivar was the one that practically held it behind her.

"Stop shaking" he scolded her, and Edlynn could hear some chuckles around her. Some of the shieldmaidens had stopped training and came to watch. The saxon girl making a fool of herself, how amusing.

Ivar's closeness, his scent and his body practically wrapped around her weren't helping. Edlynn felt her heart beating faster and faster as his fingers touched hers to position them around the arrow.

"Now" he muttered into her ear when he was finally satisfied "Loose"

Edlynn tried her best to point at the tree, but the arrow flew next to it and got lost into one of the bushes.

Everyone laughed. She could even hear Ivar chuckling next to her ear, and her cheeks reddened again. She glared at them and scoffed.

"It's fine, you'll get better if you practice" Ivar had a smile on his lips, but Edlynn couldn't say if he was mocking her or actually being nice.

One of the northmen said something loudly in their language, making everyone laugh even harder. Ivar sighed and shook his head, but had that small smirk on his face.

Narrowing her eyes, Edlynn reached for another arrow, making everyone stop laughing and look at her with an eyebrow raised. Ivar had an even bigger smile on his face when she turned to look at him.

"I want to try again"

_______________________________

Mildrith was furious. She couldn't understand why they kept discussing God knows what in that tent when Edlynn was held as a prisoner in the enemies' camp. It was true that she was more calmed now that the scout came back and assured she was well and unharmed. Mildrith always knew her friend would survive; Edlynn was strong and smart, but she also knew they could have hurt her in many ways. Especially Ivar the Boneless.

She almost shivered when she thought about him. Mildrith had always wanted to see Ivar at least once, to see if what they said was true, but to be captured by him? Her mind had replayed every single story she had heard about that heathen from the women of York.

Even that young viking she had had a quick affair with had talked about him; he was the most letal of the sons of Ragnar, a monster.

And King Alfred knew it! He had met him more than once, he had been fighting in York after the Great Heathen Army killed both his grandfathers. How he had allowed them to keep Edlynn for so long was a mystery to her.

Hilda kept praying, kneeled at the feet of what one day was Edlynn's bed with a cross between her hands. Mildrith didn't understand what praying would do, God didn't help her before and it seemed he wouldn't help her now. She was also angry at Him.

More than once, she had wished she could use a sword so she could enter the northmen's camp and free her.

"Mildrith" the nun sighed. She had dark circles under her eyes and her voice sounded weak. Hilda had barely slept or ate since Edlynn, the little girl she had raised almost as if she was her own, had been taken. She prayed day and night, hoping she would be well and no one would hurt her in any way "Please, stop pacing around the tent, sit here with me and let's pray"

"I don't want to pray" the young, raven-haired girl, clenched her fists, glaring at her "I want them to get out of that tent and go find Edlynn"

"They can't do that" Hilda sighed, her trembling hands rubbing her own face "The king is doing everything he can, Mildrith, and you know it, he appreciates Edlynn a lot, but they're asking for a high price, and he must think about the rest of the country too"

Mildrith scoffed. She hated it, she hated politics, war and negotiations. She couldn't understand it. They were in their own country! They were stronger! Why couldn't they just raise a bigger army to go and free her?

"We have do something"

"We can't" the nun shook her head "You know we can't, we can only have faith and hope she will be returned to us soon"

The young girl sighed, sitting down on the bed. She didn't want to have faith nor pray, she wanted her friend back. Her only comfort was to know that Edlynn would have many stories to tell, when she came back.

___________________________________

"They're asking for all of that, for a young woman?"

Alfred raised his head, narrowing his eyes at the man who just spoke.

"They're not asking anything, my lord, they demand all of this" he explained, slowly "And Edlynn isn't just a young woman, she is a dear friend, the daughter of one of my most trusted advisors and the sister to one of the men that I trust with my life every day"

"They want gold" Lord Eldred sighed. He was pale and had lost weight, Alfred hadn't seen him sleep nor eat for days "A lot of gold... And land, more land?" he sounded desperate.

"Yes, but separated from the land I gave to Björn and Ubbe Ragnarsson" the king rubbed his face "They also want a truce, some time to settle on our lands"

"That's the part that worries me" Lord Eldred shook his head "Why do they want time to settle? Do I have to choose between my daughter's death and a possible invasion?"

"We don't know if they plan an invasion, my lord" Alfred shrugged "For now, I am trying to save your daughter's life before anything else"

"She must be so scared" her father rubbed his eyes "All alone, surrounded by barbarians, God knows what they are doing to her"

"Our scout assured she was unharmed, Lord Eldred, I believe him" the king softened his tone "Ivar won't hurt her for as long as we don't anger him"

"I will pay as much as I can" Lord Edmund spoke for the first time since the reunion started "To ensure my lady's safe return"

Her father looked at her with a sad smile.

"Thank you, my lord" Alfred nodded "The messenger is out there, ready to leave for their camp to give them our reply"

"What do you say, my king?" Queen Elsewith put a hand on his shoulder. Alfred took her hand softly and sighed, looking down at the table. For days, he had been thinking about his decision, trying to find the best solution for all of them. If he agreed, there would be consequences, Ivar would know he had an advantage, many of his lords wouldn't agree with him. If he refused, Edlynn would suffer things worse than death before her head was sent to them, he was nearly sure of that.

Edlynn was a good girl. Responsible, obedient and polite. They had played together when they were children, and he couldn't stop thinking that it was Elsewith whom they wanted. Would they have so many doubts about saving her or not if it had been his queen?

He sighed.

"I say we agree" he nodded "And that we will meet them in the forest to give them what they want in exchange for Lady Edlynn"

____________________________________

Ivar's arms hurt. It had been a while since he practiced so much archery, and the muscles of his back and arms were already sore when he retired to the tent. His face also hurt from laughing so much, and he didn't remember when was the last time he had laughed so much, probably it was when he was still with Igor. He couldn't help but smile softly remembering the kid he had learnt to love as if he was his own son.

Before entering the tent, he could hear Edlynn whispering some words in English. He supposed she'd be reading, as she used to do since he let her read the books freely. He had to wait outside to force himself to stop smiling like an idiot before entering.

Edlynn raised her head and smiled softly when he entered the tent. In part, it was because of her he had had so much fun that day, he never guessed that teaching archery to a saxon girl could be that entertaining.

She was also tired. Her arms hurt and she only wanted to get into bed and sleep, but at the same time every time she closed her eyes, with her head leant on the soft pillows and inhaled Ivar's scent her mind went back to his hands around her waist, his breath on her neck and the soft whispers with which he had guided her. She even remembered the small smile she had seen on his face when she had finally managed to struck the tree and her cheeks would redden. Now, seeing him entering the tent leant onto his crutch with clouded eyes from drinking so much mead, laughing with his brother and even letting himself take a nap next to the fire, made her heart beat faster again.

"How are you, princess?" the playful tone made her nearly sigh in relief. He was still in a good mood.

"Tired" she muttered "But fine, it was... Interesting, to use a bow"

Ivar hummed softly, sitting down on the bed as Edlynn closed the huge book she had on the bed, leaning to leave it on the floor, next to the bed, she kneeled behind him and watching him as he fiddled with the braces. She bit her lip, not knowing what to say but wanting to keep talking to him.

"The men were quite impressed with you" he said, not looking at her "A shame we don't have time, I'm sure we could turn you into a fine shieldmaiden"

Edlynn tried to hide her excited smile.

"Really?"

This time Ivar turned around a bit. His amazing eyes fixed on her curving lips before landing on her eyes.

"Yes, I think you have potential, it would be though, we'd have to work a lot with those little arms and small hands, but we could do something" he shrugged "But we can't, you're too eager to go back to your castle, your husband and your dresses"

Her smiled faded slowly as he turned away once again. It was true she really wanted to see and hug Mildrith, Hilda, Edward and her father, but at the same time, she didn't want to say goodbye to Ivar.

At first, she had been scared, even tried to run thinking those heathens would torture and kill her, remembering all those stories she had heard about the ruthless Ivar the Boneless. But that playful, blue-eyed northman that she had seen giggling with his brother, telling stories about his Gods and who had guided her until she had finally succeeded with the bow didn't look like the monster they described on their stories. It was almost human; a human with his own beliefs and ambitions that wasn't so different from all those men she had met in England.

"Lord Edmund is not..."

"Not your husband yet, I know, princess" he chuckled "But he will be soon, right? Even if I would advise you to reconsider that marriage, taking in consideration that he didn't came to this camp to cut my head off for taking his woman"

Edlynn chuckled. She knew Lord Edmund couldn't really make that decision, besides, she didn't expect him to risk his life for a woman he just met.

"I can't reconsider anything, actually" she smiled sadly "It wasn't my decision"

Ivar raised his eyebrows, nodding slowly. Then he moved to take off his clothes, and Edlynn looked away with her cheeks flushed.

"If I was your father, then, I wouldn't give my daughter to a man that wouldn't die for her"

"I can't ask him that" she smiled, his words warmed her heart "He barely knows me"

"Wouldn't you prefer to marry someone you loved?" Ivar got rid of his shirt, and Edlynn couldn't help but take a look of the dark lines of his back, shaped like a snake.

"I..." she frowned "I will learn to love him, he's... He's good, a good man, he's nice and handsome and... I'm lucky that he chose me, I know many women that had to marry old men that didn't treat them well... Also, I don't know anyone who married for love" she chuckled. With time, she convinced herself that love was built, not found. All those tales Hilda had told her when she was little were fantasy.

"I married for love" Ivar muttered, almost like he didn't mean for Edlynn to hear "I did love the woman I married"

She felt as if someone had kicked her chest. Suddenly, she stopped looking at him and felt stupid for even feeling sad about the fact that he had a wife. Of course he had a wife.

Ivar groaned as he laid on the bed, covering his legs with the furs and closing his eyes as he relaxed against the pillows.

"I didn't know you were married"

Ivar opened his eyes, looking up with what she could describe as a heartbroken expression.

"I was" he muttered "Some time ago"

Edlynn tilted her head with curiosity.

"What happened to her?" she almost felt bad for asking, but Ivar didn't seem to mind.

"She died" his jaw clenched "She betrayed me and she died"

"And... how was she?"

"She was... Beautiful" he almost smiled, and Edlynn bit her lip, looking down "She looked like Freyja, she was blonde and had blue eyes"

The opposite of me, she thought, and immediately felt stupid for even thinking it.

"She sounds pretty" she smiled softly, hating that sad look on his eyes. Ivar then turned his head to look at her, and blinked slowly, almost like he was realizing something.

"I've only loved three women in my life" he shrugged "And one of them was my mother"

His face contorted again, almost like it pained him to think about her.

"And who was the other one?"

Ivar's lips curved on a smile.

"The mother of my child" he muttered "She was a princess, like you, but she was mysterious while you are not" he chuckled. Edlynn glared at him, but ignored his comment once again.

"I'm not a princess, though"

"Because you don't want to" he shrugged "You could be a princess, even a queen, if you wanted to, you are pretty enough to conquer a king"

"Me?" Edlynn giggled, blushing softly "No, I don't think so"

"You would be a good queen" he insisted "You're strong and smart, you respect people" Ivar nodded.

"I still need to find a king" she shrugged "Still pretty impossible"

"Lord Edmund could be your king" Ivar pronounced her betrothed's name mockingly, as always.

"No" Edlynn shook her head "He's handsome, brave and good, but he couldn't be my king, nor my prince, I'd have to find another"

The intensity of Ivar's gaze burned her skin. Edlynn looked away, and moved to lay down and rest her head on the pillows, sticking to her side of the bed as she always did.

"I never knew my mother" she muttered, changing the topic before the tension on the tent escalated too much "She died not long after I was born... She was from Ireland, from a place called Dubh Linn, have you heard about it?"

Ivar nodded slowly. His people had raided that place more than once.

"So she wasn't a saxon?"

Edlynn shook her head.

"Her father brought her here when his lands were taken from him, trying to procure a good future for her and marry her to a lord, my father asked for her hand... At least, that's what they always told me" she shrugged "Father always said I have her hair, and that I look like her... I think that's why he didn't want to raise me when she died, I think it was painful for him... But I can't complain, Hilda is great" Edlynn groaned and rubbed her eyes when she realized she was talking a lot "Please, forgive me, I talk too much"

"No, it's fine" Ivar shook his head with a soft voice, he had turned to look at her, and he felt like he was looking at a goddess. Maybe it was the mead, maybe the exhaustion, but he couldn't help but move a bit closer to her.

"My mother died too" he added "She was killed" he clenched his fists in rage "She always cared for me, she always protected me, even when my father wasn't there" he had a small, sad smile on his lips as he remembered the, sometimes suffocating, love his mother had showed him "And I miss her everyday"

Edlynn nodded. Even if she didn't remember her mother, she also missed her. And in some way she wished she could have had such a relationship with her, maybe she would have been able to explain to her what was that thing she felt, laying down on a northmen's bed and looking at him closely.

"You and I aren't so different, then" she pointed out, smiling softly. Was it her or they were closer now?

"I suppose we are not" the thought seemed to amuse him "Even if we worship different Gods and speak different languages"

When Ivar turned his head again, Edlynn was so close he could feel her quick breathing on his lips. It was nearly as intoxicating as the mead he had drank.

Ivar's hand reached to caress her hair, making Edlynn shudder and gasp, almost like she realized what she was doing.

"Is it not... Inappropriate to be so close to a heathen, princess?" he teased a bit, enjoying the way her cheeks turned red once again.

"At this point..." she sighed, barely able to think about anything that wasn't Ivar "I don't really care"

That made him laugh and his grip on her hair tightened. Edlynn wasn't lying, she couldn't think about God or anything that weren't his blue eyes and his lips parted. Without even thinking about it, she leant in while closing her eyes, and didn't stop until she felt his warm lips against hers.

Edlynn had never kissed anyone, unlike Mildrith and some of the girls at the court, that were stolen a kiss or two in the stables or in a hidden corner of the castle. She never looked at the boys, too occupied with her books, her prayers and other important things. But she could understand now what the priests meant when they talked about temptation. Ivar's lips were addictive, better than anything she had ever tasted, and ignited something inside her that she couldn't recognize.

The kiss was slow, passionate but also shy. They stopped kissing for a moment, but she had barely opened her eyes when Ivar's hand cupped her neck, his thumb caressing her cheek softly before he leant in again. And Edlynn had to put her hand on his warm chest to balance herself, moving her lips against his and leaning more and more into him, feeling like she would die if she wasn’t as close to him as possible.

When they finally broke the kiss, none of them opened their eyes. Ivar was panting, one hand secured against her neck, to keep her lips close to his, and the other one had landed on her waist when she had leant into him almost straddling his waist, and his heart was beating so fast it was almost scary. Her forehead leant into his and Ivar sighed. It had been a long time since he had felt that warmth inside him.

________________________________________

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @therealcalicali @blushingskywalker @gruffle1 @justacripple @heartbeats-wildly @letsrunawaytotomorrow @inforapound @sallydelys @hellogabysblog @winchesterwife27 @hecohansen31 @youbloodymadgenius @xinyourdreamsx @funmadnessandbadassvikings @tgrrose @lovessce @tootie-fruity @didiintheblog @alexhandersenx @belovedcherry @fantasydevil2002 @xceafh @astrape-the-weatherwitch @destynelseclipsa @momowhoo @mcrmarvelloki @nanahachikyuu @valopz @mrsalwayswrite @poisonous00 @whenimaunicorn @heavenly1927 @seeking-a-great--perhaps @nukyster-blog @alexhandersenblog @synnersaint @yummycastiel

#ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #vikings #ivar x ofc #vikings imagine #heathen

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hotwings0203 · 3 years

Text

This is so utterly stupid but I have a few HC’s about Muslim Dabi(again obv this isn’t canon I just think it’s funny)

-Dabi would def be the type of Muslim dude who claims to be super religious cuz he never eats pork and “goes to the mosque to pray”(which is actually just code for hitting a blunt in the back of the parking lot w Hawks and Shigaraki💀), but yet smokes^^ and still has hella sex with like every other girl who bats her lashes at him from across the dining hall

-he also is a big cat lover, he claims since the Prophet Muhammad had cats of his own it’s sunnah to keep one

-on Eid namaz he’s the most dripped out one at the session, I’m talking black kurta dress, nice ass watch, slicked back hair...but funny enough, no one has actually seen him in line for the prayers themselves

-if he were back at home with the rest of the Todoroki’s, he’d most definitely be THE MOST spoiled one. Fuyumi would get on his ass for not cleaning the dishes, but he’d wave her off and tell her it’s training for her to be a better housewife for her future husband(cue a soapy sponge thrown at his head)

-Snitches.Constantly. Bro like this dude catches Shoto on his phone when he’s supposed to be doing a dua? Boom, instant callout followed by a long ass lecture about how he’s straying away from his religion and how he’s going to hell just because he spent one measly moment on his device instead of praising da lord

-Hes also always telling fuyumi to cover up her sleeves that come just a bittt before her wrists, claiming that she’s showing too much skin(especially when Hawks is over, that fucker’s got his eyes on every single one of his family members). But she’s quick to point out his secret tattoos, piercings, and hair dyes. He just scoffs and pulls the “women were created lesser than men so it’s okay for me to act a fool but not for you” card🙄stg I can’t stand him

-Since he’s the closest to Natsu, he’s always giving Eid money to him the most. The dude will slouch against his favorite brothers’ door, watching him play 2K. “What do you want?” Natsu asks with no real malice, not taking his eyes off the changing screen, furiously clicking away on his controller. “Mom says you gotta iron your clothes, Fuyumi’s doing her own so she can’t do yours as well. Oh, and Eid Mubarak by the way.” Natsu pauses him game and stands to stretch his arms above his head, groaning at the tendons popping in place on his back. “Yeah man, you too-what’s that?” He points to a fat parcel in Touya’s hand. The white-haired boy grins and chucks the bulging package at him, which Natsu catches easily. His eyes widen when he tears open the cream-colored paper envelope and reveals dozens of bills exceeding the usual 5-10$ family limit. “Yo, what-how-thanks Touya!” He sputters, throwing the package on his bed and throwing an arm around his brothers’ back in a man-hug. Touya rolls his eyes and barely suppresses a smile at Natsu’s excitement,(something he’s always wanting to be the source of) pounding his back to let go before he asphyxiates. He lets go and Touya smirks before heading towards the door, calling out over his shoulder, “Oh, and I’d thank Sho-turd as well while you’re singing my praise.” Natsu stops in his tracks and looks suspiciously at the withdrawing slender figure. “Why?”. Touya’s voice is distant as he moves to close and lock his door. “‘Cuz it’s his money after all.”

-The two brothers are always waking up at Sehri the earliest in Ramadhan, just so they can scarf down a majority of the food in the fridge and go to sleep without having to interact with the rest of their family at sunrise. And in the case that their family DOES wake up in time to see them chomping down food made for a WHOLE FAMILY and not just two boys, Touya is quick to grab his keys and jacket and cackle that him and Natsu are going to iHop to eat some more. Natsu ofc is quick to follow pursuit, throwing an apologetic grin towards his parents and other siblings.

-When they’re at the mosque and Enji has somehow bullied him enough to sit the hell down and actually ATTEND the lectures for once, Touya still has one up his sleeve. Planned out strategically, he always simpers to Rei that he wants to donate to the mosque, causing her eyes to water and a handful of cash thrown his way, her voice wobbly as she praises her son for actually taking the foundations of his religion seriously. Unbeknownst to her however, this just means that he’ll take a little bit more than he gives. Hawks will be standing at the front of the hall, bowing his head and using his silver tongue to graciously thank the many men and women who come forth to drop their allowance into the money basket. When he sees his best man approaching, he has to stop the smug grin from reaching his ears, instead slanting his brows and holding the basket out to the now black-haired thief. “Glad to see you’re taking eternal damnation seriously, for once,” Keigo flashes his perky whites and Dabi drops Rei’s money into the donation basket, dipping his hand a little lower for a second. “Glad to see you’re still standing here like some busboy peasant, as usual,” he fires back, the two boys catching each other’s eyes and stifling their cackles as the patched hand withdraws, a copious amount of bills in his hand, more than what he put in.

-100% steals shoes. Usually you hear about older men doing this, but age aint nothin’ but a number to Dabi, baby. “Nice kicks,” he nods to a boy Natsu’s age, noting the blue and black minimalist patterns adorning the shoes. The boy recognizes Dabi as one of the most revered figures at the mosque (and the most featured by adults. Who’d want their kid hanging out with the eldest Todoroki as an influence?) and bobs his head excitedly, spewing out the manufacture and release dates of the shoes. Dabi looks at the fanboy amusedly, continuing to lean against the shoe rack as more people crowd around and start to push the boy inside. “See you later Dabi!” The eccentric kid calls out as he’s pushed into the hall by grumbling uncles. The ravenette snickers fo himself, “Yeah, but you won’t be seeing these shoes anytime soon.”

-A notorious playboy in the community. Uncles glare at him, unable to scold him outright for his shenanigans due to his father’s close presence, and aunties steer their children away from him at dinner parties. Speaking of, Dabi’s at a dinner right now. He’s lighting up a joint in amongst 3 mesmerized girls sitting on the floor in front of him and 2 jealous dudes his age in a locked room, away from all the screaming little kids. “Wow Dabi, doesn’t it burn?” The youngest of the three girls asks him with imploring eyes. He smiles a charming smile down at her and he thinks he sees the other two swoon. “Nah, sweetheart, you get used to it after a little while. Don’t be like me though, keep yourself pure and clean,” he shoots a wink at them and they giggle, faces turning red. The other two boys sitting at the far end of the bed scowl at his successful flirting, but Dabi doesn’t care for any of them, honestly, they’re just target practice. Right as he inhaled the fumes of another puff, a little body throws itself at the door, banging its fists on the wood. “It’s time for food!” They all jump at the intrusion and chuckle as the intruder runs away, containing to scream about food being served. The group gets up to leave and exits through the door, but Dabi takes his time. He wasn’t done with his joint, and he has to waft the smell away anyways when he leaves. He’s opening a window to let out some air when he heads a soft shuffle from behind him. “Shows over guys, go eat-“ but when he turns around, the oldest girl of the three stands before him, fiddling with her hands and looking at the floor. “Um, Dabi? I know you said not to try it out by ourselves so...I was wondering if you could-if you could teach me how...?” She looks at the half-used roll in his hand, and he looks from the blunt to her face. He looks behind her. A closed door. Perfect. Taking a step forwards, he relishes in how she takes a hesitant step back, the breath in her throat catching but she still doesn’t back down. She looks to him like he’s a god, and he feels like one right now. And so he steps closer until she’s backed against the wall, his lids lowered to her wide ones, and he placed a hand next to her head. “Didnt your mom ever tell you not to take things from strangers?” He ghosts by the shell of her ear, and she shivers. “She never told me the strangers would be this hot,” and he has to laugh a bit at her tenacity. He pulls away and flops back on the bed, signaling for her to join him. “Well come one then, I’m hungry, better hurry up before I change my mind.” And 5 shotguns later, Dabi barely wipes off her bright pink lipstick from his face and straightens his kurta along with his hair before bounding down the steps, eager for food. At his command, she comes down a minute after him as to not cause any suspicion, but it doesn’t stop Rei from shooting him a knowing glare from the living room as he piles his plate with food. He shoves a veggie roll in his mouth as he turns to join the boys in the dining area, but his path is blocked by a large woman. “I know you’re up to no good. The children told me what funny smell was coming from the room upstairs, and I know you’re to blame, Touya Todoroki. I respect your mother a lot so I won’t make a scene here-“ he interrupts her, mouth half full with a roll, “-I mean, you already kinda are,-“ but she continues her tirade. “-I don’t think you’re a good influence on these kids, especially your siblings. What self respecting family would be okay with their son acting like a hooligan, having piercings, smelling like weed?” He smirks and swallows before swerving around her. “I don’t know Aunty, why don’t you ask your daughter? She didn’t seem to mind my, ah, influence.”

-When they were all younger, there was a time where End*avor wanted the boys the toughen up a bit and stop messing around so much. He brought the family up to the mountains in a nice cabin, purposefully choosing an area with farms nearby. It was around the time of Eid-e-Adha, so naturally goats and sheep’s were going to be sacrificed for the family feast. Touya already knew what was going on, so Enji left it up to him, a scrawny preteen boy to take over the initiation. Fuyumi wanted to come to the farm too, but Touya glared at her and told her to stay home because “girls are too emotional for this.”(he really did think that, but above all he held a secret soft spot for his only younger sister). Natsu and Touya both started heading down to the field to pick out a goat, and ofc little Shoto wanted to come along to. He begged and begged for his older brothers to bring him along and to not leave him at home for once, and with a sly glance to Natsu, Touya relented. He leaned down to Shoto’s eye-level and asked with serious eyes, “You sure?”. Shoto nodded eagerly, standing straight up as to look more solemn and mature. Natsu held back a snicker and grabbed Shoto by the collar as they dragged him out to the pasture. Oh, the little boy was in heaven among the bleating sheep and fluffy coats. “Go ahead, pick one out!” Touya said eagerly, nodding to the clueless toddler to choose a sacrificial sheep. And so the heterochromatic child pointed to one, looking to his big brothers for assurance, to which they gave an excited nod. Shoto yelped with glee and spent the rest of the afternoon frolicking with the soon-to-be-mutton chops, completely oblivious to its grim fate and creating a bond with the animal. So when it was finally sunset and the time came to start preparing for the feast, Touya walked over leisurely to Shoto, pushed the grubby hand away from the animal’s collar, and started pulling the creature towards the chopping block. “W-what’re you doing?” Shoto asked uncertainty. “Well, we gotta eat, right? Thanks for picking out such a fat sheep, ‘wonder how it’s gonna taste,”. The eldest grinned with malice at his youngest brother, who started to sniffle and ball his fists. “You’re lying! Leave it alone!” He cried out. “Nope, m’not lying, ask Natsu.” Natsu turns to Shoto and shrugs his shoulders without any real regret. “You’re the one who wanted to come along, right? Think of how proud dad will be of his favorite-he finally sacrificed his first sheep!”

-the first time he was ever asked to lead the namaz, Keigo and Tomura kept kicking the back of his legs so he would fall over while trying to recite the prayers, and in turn he’d immediately whip around in the middle of the whole damn hall and shoot fire at the two howling boys. Needless to say, he was never asked to read again

(one would think since Dabi knows sooo much about being a gOoD mUsLim and how to follow the rules he’d take some of that advice HIMSELF)

#dabi #dabi headcanons #touya #touya headcanons #muslim mha #mha headcanons #touya todoroki #mha crack #bnha #mha #bnha dabi #mha dabi #mha toya #bnha touya

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imaginesupply · 3 years

Text

Homecoming - Chapter One

Chapter Two can be found here

(Gif’s not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies 

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This is pretty much a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter One starts after the cut. Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the new chapters.

Chapter One

Chapter warnings: Badly written smut (consensual), marriage awkwardness, alcohol consumption. Maybe OOC Sy, I don’t know. We never saw him being casual.

Sy checked his phone again as he waited for his bag by the baggage carousel. The airport was even busier than usual, it was taking ages and he was impatient to get out of there... and maybe even never set foot in an airport again for the rest of his life.

He read her text again, short and sweet. He sometimes called her that, short and sweet, just to tease her. Ada was considerably shorter than him and full of sugar, when she wanted to be, that was.

'I'm waiting by the gate for you, with a warm cinnabon :) So excited to see you again <3.'

Just then a notification popped up from Harper. It was a photo of the soldier at the airport, finally reunited with his wife and his two rugrats. It made Sy all the more excited to see Ada again, and then as if on cue, his camo bag appeared in the carousel and he groaned with relief.

He stood restless amidst the line, it seemed people in front of him were dragging their feet, but when they noticed his green beret uniform, most parted and let him through. Sy tipped his head gratefully.

His wife was there, just outside the gate. Sy spotted her instantly in the crowd of people. She was wearing a red dress under her open coat and her hair looked fresh out of the hairdresser. He caught himself grinning at the sight of her. Then, once she spotted him making his way over to her, she started waving her hand excitedly as if there was any way his eyes hadn't already landed on her. He wished he still had his phone in hand to capture this moment for all of eternity, but his memory would have to do, he decided before casting his arms open for his wife. Fuck, did he love her!

°°°

Ada had been biting her nails nervously for the past two hours. She had arrived at the airport way too early. The parking fee would hurt but she couldn't find it in herself to care at this point.

Three weeks ago, she had received a call informing her that her husband and part of his unit had been ambushed. There had been an explosion in some building they were scouting only God knows where.

Only a full week after that did she receive a call from Sy himself. He was coming home. For good, this time. They were sending him home early, a full eight months earlier than what he had originally negotiated with his superiors. She hadn't been prepared for the news. She had spent the days following the call asking herself whether she had heard him right, making sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her.

Now he was here, stopping right in front of her, his thick arms inviting her right in for a hug. Ada wouldn't have been able to resist the invitation even if she had wanted to. Within a second, she was enveloped in his embrace, her cheek pressed against his chest. She was overjoyed to feel his heartbeat again. Sy kisses the crown of her head before putting her down, his hands never leaving her lower back, his fingers big enough to reach the swell of her bum from there.

They pulled away a few inches to take each other in. His beard has grown a little long, but it was not enough to hide his apparent dimples as he smiled. He looked a little older too, she hadn't seen in seven months, except through a shitty quality facetime call once or twice. Her careful gaze spotted the new scar by his temple, it was the only visible physical evidence of the explosion he had been caught in. She dreaded what she might under his uniform.

Sy caught her eyes and she found herself blushing under his stare. It was always like that the first few hours when he was back, until she got used to his overwhelming presence again and to the fact that this handsome bear of a man was indeed her husband.

"You're looking good, darlin'," Sy grinned, making her spin for him. "I missed you."

Ada couldn’t resist his smile. "I missed you too, Sy." She confessed, handing him the still warm cinnamon roll in its paper bag.

He accepted the pastry with a smile and started eating it immediately but not before throwing his arm around her shoulders as they began making their way to the parking lot. Sy was eager to get her out of the crowd and have her just to him himself.

"So, what's the plan, darlin'?" Sy inquired with mischief to his voice, balling up the paper bag with his free hand and throwing it inside the trash can. "Did you book that hotel with the jacuzzi in the bedroom again?"

It had become a tradition of some sort between them. They would always spend his first night back at that hotel: they'd order some room service and eat in the jacuzzi. Though, usually, they would first end up on together on the bed.

Ada stopped suddenly in her tracks, making him still behind her. She smiled sheepishly. "Don't be mad," she started, his smile falling at once, "but your family is waiting for us in the parking lot. Your mom insisted that we celebrate your homecoming at the restaurant. Something about you missing Thanksgiving just by a couple days."

Sy groaned, thinking about the evening that now expected him. He'd been flying for God knows how many hours, all he wanted was a warm bath and Ada whichever way she'd let him have her, not a damn dinner party.

"I'm sorry, Sy."

He shook his head and leaned down to kiss her forehead again. "Don't worry, darlin'. I know it ain’t your fault."

As soon as they reached the open-air parking lot, Sy's nephew and niece start running up to him, having escaped their parents' grasp. His family was waiting for him with cheers and a 'welcome home, soldier' banner. Sy hated that kind of attention and she found it cringy as well, but she had been unable to stop his mother. Ada watched him hug the kids and lift them up into the air, making them laugh as she walked up to the machine to pay the fee.

Her hand trembled as she inserted the ticket into the slot, missing the opening a few times. She was happy - no, scratch that - she was ecstatic to have her husband back. It's just that, could you really say 'back' when there was never truly a 'before', a 'there'?

They had met when he was already deployed, but on a short leave back in Austin. They spent three weeks together, got married and he returned to Iraq. Since then, the longest stretch of time they had been together had been twenty days. Neither of them had ever gotten settled into married life and now he was 'back'. For good. Which was wonderful and foreign and overwhelming all at once.

Ada paid the fee and returned to join them, finding Sy hugging his mother. She smiled at the sight. She walked over to greet her sister-in-law and her husband, confirming that they'd meet up at the restaurant. With that, she went to the car, deciding to give Sy some more time with his family, and herself an occasion to take a few breaths and calm her buzzing heart.

"You didn't tell me my mom had gotten herself a boyfriend." Sy grumbled immediately as he sat down next to her in the car, putting on his seatbelt.

Ada turned on the engine and backed out of the spot. "I knew you wouldn't like it," she defended before casting a side glance at him. "Besides, I figured it wasn't my place to tell you."

Sy hummed noncommittally, removing his cap to rake his hand through his cropped hair.

"Though, as much as I don't exactly like your mother," Ada added quietly, "she's been on her own ever since your dad passed a couple years ago. With your father gone and you away, she must have felt lonely.”

°°°

Sy spent the rest of the drive mulling over her words in his head. The fuck was that supposed to mean? As soon as a woman feels lonely, she takes up a boyfriend?! Was Ada lonely too while he was away and… He wanted to ask if she was implying anything but then one look at her and he decided against it. Breathing out deeply, he forces himself to relax. He was just stressed out and on edge.

It was inevitable that things would have changed while he had been away. That was something he thought about frequently late at night when he got to be alone. Still, he hoped things hadn’t changed all too much. Ada still looked just as she had on their road trip to Vegas, focused on the road but leaning back on her seat, just one hand on the wheel with a grin on her lips. His wife loved driving.

"You got your nails done." Sy commented, already hoping the whole dinner thing would be over quickly so that he could go home with her.

Ada turned to him with a chuckle for a second, wriggling her graceful fingers and red painted nails, her wedding band reflecting the light. "I wanted to look pretty for you."

Sy huffed. "You always look pretty to me, Ada," he said and then watched her scoff.

"Or maybe, I just wanted to make sure I'd be able to scratch you up nicely," she wife winked.

Yeah, this dinner thing couldn't be over fast enough.

°°°

Ada saw him eat so much over dinner, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to be sick later. And, of course, the double serving of smoked ribs had to be accompanied with generous amounts of beer and whisky. She didn0t blame him, though. Out of curiosity, she once researched what they ate while on deployment and it looked anything but tasty. If she had been in his shoes, she'd have been eating her own weight in pizza and brownies right now.

It also didn’t help that his brother-in-law and his mom's new boyfriend, Phil from the hardware store, kept asking him about Baqubah and even touching on the subject of the explosion. It was obvious how uncomfortable the subject made him, his grip tightening around his knife and his jaw tensing up so tightly, she could imagine his teeth grinding.

So, Sy kept asking for refills, raising his glass, and giving them vague answers, but it seemed they didn't get the hint. At least, the subject changed when his sister interrupted the conversation to announce she was expecting again. A little girl.

Ada used the moments of cheer that followed to excuse herself from the table and go to the restroom. She was still somewhat nervous and her face was damp. She would have given anything for a glass of scotch at that moment but she was driving tonight.

Helen, Sy's mom appeared right behind her just as she was washing her hands. She hoped the woman would just disappear inside a stall but she wasn’t that lucky.

"Jack is back." Helen stated, arms crossed. A shiver ran through Ada's spine, damn she hated that woman. "For good."

Ada dried her hands with a paper towel, looking back at her mother-in-law through the mirror. "He is."

"Now's the time to prove yourself to this family and show us that Sy was right in marrying you.”

Before Ada could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Helen finally disappeared inside a stall. Rolling her eyes, Ada went to leave the restrooms when Helen decides to add some more venom. "Maybe a good start would be calling him by his first name, as a wife would."

°°°

"When do you start at Camp Mabry?" Ada asked, looking away from the steering wheel to glance at him for a second. Sy looked exhausted, not that she could she blame him after three different flights and a seemingly endless dinner. They had finally called it a night once the kids had started getting fussy.

"January 15th." He replied. "But they want me to stop by before then to have a look around the base and sign the contract."

"You're going to boss the hell out of the new recruits," Ada laughed, getting him to lighten up and even chuckle.

"You'd be surprised to know I'm actually a fair and considerate captain," Sy defended himself.

Next to him, Ada huffed as she tried stiffing the bubble of laughter, trying not miss the right exit off the main road.

"I just value discipline and compliance a lot," he added, his tone growing teasing.

This time, she was unable to stop her laugh. "Believe me, I know you do."

The drive was a short one to their house in the suburbs and she was soon parking her in their driveaway.

Ada fumbled with the key as she tried opening the front door, nervousness setting back in as she felt Sy standing behind her, holding his duffel bag. He followed in quickly after her, once she had finally managed to open the door.

"Welcome home, captain!" Ada cheered in her silliest tone as he discarded his bag on the floor.

Then, before she could even react, Sy was on her. His arms lifted her up, his body caging hers against the wall before capturing her lips in the most ferocious kiss she could imagine.

Out of instinct, her legs locked around his waist and her hands dug into his shoulders, unwilling to let go of him now that he was finally there. Sy grinned against her lips, amused by her fervour, not that he felt any different.

He broke off the kiss as he pulled them away from the wall, freeing a hand to shrug her coat off her shoulders. "You ain't gonna need that, darlin'," he promised, throwing the coat in the direction of the kitchen, not caring where it landed.

Then his mouth latched on to her throat, forcing a delicious moan out of his wife as he carefully manoeuvred them upstairs, still steady on his feet despite the alcohol. Sy was almost surprised when he pushed open the door to their bedroom with his foot and it didn't squeak, but that thought was fleeting as Ada started rolling her hips against his. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not the war, not the explosion or his guilt, only the woman in his arms.

Unceremoniously, he let her fall on the bed, the urgency now flowing through his blood keeping him from doing things the gentleman way. Ada didn't mind, giggling as she unzipped her dress and slid the red thing over her head, along with her bra. Apparently, she had decided to forego panties. Sy stood there, almost mesmerised as he watched her, suddenly not certain if he dared tainting her with his touch but Ada quickly made that decision for him as she got up on her knees.

"A little less staring and a little more undressing, captain," she purred with a smirk, her fingers determined as they made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

"That's it, darlin'. You're in for it now," Sy roared, pulling her in for another furious kiss before pushing her back against the mattress, making her land on her back as he got undressed in record time. Fuck, was he hard.

"Open up for your captain." Sy ordered and Ada complied instantly, her legs falling open for him as she peered up at him, holding herself up on her elbows and worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "That's a good girl," he praised.

Without losing another second, Sy settled in between her legs, wrapping his strong arms around her thighs and parting them to their limits. He wanted to worship her body the way she deserved, show her exactly just how appreciative he was of her, how much he craved her, but it had been months and Sy was a starving man who had just been presented with the perfect meal.

"Fuck Sy!" Ada screamed out, her back arching off the bed the instant he licked her just where she craved him most. He chuckled against her, marvelling at how wet she already was for him.

She tried closing her legs around his head, rejoicing at the feeling of his beard rubbing against her sensitive skin and never wanting him to leave again, but his arms were too strong for her clenching thighs. She was left defenceless against his assault, with no choice but to obscenely moan her pleasure and let herself cum against his tongue as his thumb expertly massaged her clit.

The coil inside her snapped and her body tensed up before letting go just as suddenly, her now damp back falling back on the mattress. "Fuck, Sy." Ada breathed out, her chest heaving as she tried to reopen her eyes only to find her husband playfully gazing up at her, smirking with her arousal glistening on his beard. The sight alone almost made her cum again. "I'll never let you leave again!"

He smiled in response, placing a kiss on her lower stomach before crawling up her body. "I've no intention to, baby," he promised.

Ada caught a glimpse of his hard, flushed erection as his body slid over hers, realizing in her post-orgasmic haze that she was in for an even bigger treat now. She could taste herself in his mouth as they kissed, his hand slithering behind her back to seize her shoulder and hold her closer. Teasingly, he started rolling his hips, his hard clock rubbing against her slick cunt, coating himself with arousal before finally, he found his way inside her, burying his head next to hers in the pillow.

Ada whimpered as he did so, her eyes tearing up as his clock slid inside her. She had evidently grown unaccustomed to his girth and length in his absence. Sy paused immediately, his muscles tense as he looked at her with concern. “You okay?” She nodded in silence, wanting him to start moving but Sy looked unconvinced, using all his strength to keep still despite his desire to fuck her right into the mattress. Without a warning, Ada tightly wrapped her legs around his hips, making him go deeper. Sy let out a reverberating groan. “God, darlin’. I missed you.”

He started thrusting into her with such vigour, such determination it felt as if he was trying to bury himself so deep inside her, no one would ever be able to pry him away from her again. It did hurt, her cervix was getting battered with each of his hard movements but she found herself enjoying the pain because it was him; it was Sy and he was right there with her, back in her arms, and she could feel his heart beat beneath her fingertips as her hand gripped at his chest.

"Fuck, I'm... I’m," Ada gasped incoherently, her nails now scratching the skin of his back. Sy was sure there would be marks there in the morning which made him enjoy the sensation even more.

"I got you," he rasped. If possible, he pulled her even tighter to him, his pubic bone now rubbing against hers in that delicious way only he was able to do. Her slick walls were now contracting around him, her second orgasm impending. "Fuck," he groaned, his breath coming out in a stutter. "Are you...Can I...?"

Sy didn't have to word it, she knew what he meant. "Cum in me, Sy. Please," she almost begged.

Her words did it. His hips stuttered as he pushed in deep just when his orgasm washed over him, exploding inside her. His face contorted with pleasure and that sight alone had her fast tracking her fall over the figurative edge. He had his face buried on the crook of her neck, muffling his groans and moans against her skin as the dam gave way within her.

°°°

Sy grunted against his pillow, slowly waking up the following morning. He was convinced he was just rousing after a very nice dream and he was ready to toss his alarm clock across the room, furious at the object for interrupting his dream, that for once, had been a good one. With a startle, Sy realized that no blasting alarm had woken him up but the sunlight on his face. Opening his eyes, he felt almost as if on foreign ground. He was home.

As quietly as he could manage, Sy turned around in bed, seeking his wife only to find her side empty. Just at that moment, he heard cursing coming up from the kitchen and scoffed. He’d bet his life Ada was cracking eggs, something she hated.

Feeling rested and in a much more relaxed mood than the previous day, Sy got out of bed and started searching for a pair of boxer briefs so he could go join her downstairs when he caught a sniff of himself. Fuck, did he stink. How Ada hadn’t thrown him out of bed, he didn’t know.

Out of habit, Sy hurried to the en-suite bathroom, wanting to shower as fast as possible before realizing that this time around, it was different. He wasn’t going back, he didn’t have to rush, their time together wasn’t counted. With that in mind, Sy forced himself to take his time, enjoying the act of brushing his teeth in a bathroom that smelled nice and showering with warm water. Ada had purchased his usual brands of shower gel and toothpaste, he noticed, even putting a red bow around his brand-new toothbrush by the sink. Even though he initially wanted to take his time to enjoy it, Sy still ended up rushing as he dried himself with a blue fluffy towel he didn’t recognize from his previous stay. He didn’t bother putting on anything more than his boxer briefs before heading downstairs. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t keep them on for long either.

Sy walked into one of the best sights he had even seen, when he entered the kitchen. Ada was standing in front of the stove, rhythmically tapping the black spatula against her naked thigh as she focused on the eggs and bacon she was preparing. The thin negligee - or whatever she called it, he always forgot - barely covered her ass and that outfit alone was one of the reasons he never minded that she always cracked up the heat so high, he felt like he was back under the hot desert sun.

Silent and stealthy like a predator despite his stature, Sy sneaked up on her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her startle before relaxing once she noticed it was him. She smelled heavenly, Sy thought, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Watcha got cooking, darlin'?"

"Obviously breakfast," she sassed, making him softly pinch her ass in response. Ada squealed and jumped up. "Good morning to you too, Sy," she said but not before slapping the handle of the spatula against his thigh. He decided to let it slide... for now.

"Morning darlin'," he answered, kissing the crown of her head before darting his fingers into the pan and picking up a piece of bacon. It was sizzling hot, but the taste was worth it. He had missed being home! Speaking of being home... "What do you say we take the food and coffee upstairs and have ourselves breakfast in bed?" His tone failed to hide his true intentions.

Ada scoffed, the back of her head rubbing on his hairy chest and she shook her head. "Nice try but I actually intend to feed you. Your mother will have my head if I let you go hungry."

It was Sy's turn to laugh, his hands now roaming her body as she leaned forward to turn off the stove, pressing her ass against his crotch and eliciting a husky groan from him. "I'm hungry enough to eat both breakfast and you, don't worry."

Ada turned around, a huge grin on her angelic face. "Alright, you win. What do you say, we have breakfast, we do the kinky and then go grocery shopping?"

Sy tried hiding his smile but it was a lost cause. He loved it when she talked like that. He loved her, point. "Yes, ma'am."

#henry cavill smut #syverson smut #henry cavill x ofc #syverson x ofc #henry cavill x reader #syverson x reader

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ssson-of-sparda · 3 years

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WHAT FORTUNE GAVE - Prologue (Vergil x Nero's Mother)

Summary: Turmoil has engulfed the small Island of Fortuna, shaken now more than ever by a never-ending civil war opposing the religious Order of the Sword to a group of rebels named the Guard of Sparda. As he tries to unveil his father's secret past and achieve some hidden dark purpose, Vergil crosses path with Elissa, a young lady whose thirst for vengeance and blood is as red as the dress she's wearing. He doesn't want to care and he especially doesn't want to get involved but you don't choose your fate in Fortuna. That's the story Nero is about to discover.

Tags: Romance / Angst / Fluff / Explicit Sexual Content / Explicit Language / Canon-Typical Violence / Blood and Gore / Religion / The Order of The Sword / Civil War / Rebellion / Demons / Action and Adventure / Sparda's past

Author’s note: This is one hell of an ambitious project I put myself into, but I hope you will follow me in this journey which is basically another fan fiction about Vergil and Nero's mother. Probably not the best (I've read some prreeety good ones) but one that should be (hopefully) different from what was previously posted.I worked a lot on this story, made a lot of research and used many artistic references that I catalogued at the end of each chapter for the curious ones among you. Since English is not my mother tongue, feel free to let me know if there's any grammar mistake or if some sentences don't make any sense. Anyway, enjoy your reading.

In twenty-five years, Aifric’s Alehouse hadn’t changed even just a tiny bit. Same hefty old furniture. Same mucky walls and filthy floor covered in layers of dry alcohol that stick your shoes to the wooden slats each time you take a step. Same lamentable drunkards in search of more alcohol to drown their sorrows in, their arms around women that would pretend to adore them for a night in exchange for a bit of money. And, now that Vergil dared breathe a little, same foul stench of humidity, staleness and sweat, typical of this kind of underground bars from the no-go areas of the Castle Town of Fortuna. And the music … Don’t let him think about the music. Never thought he would come back here one day. His firm gloved hand grabbed the backrest of a wobbly stool that scratched the old wooden floor with an unpleasant creak as he pulled it to sit on it, revealing his presence to the brown-skinned man sipping his beer in silence next to him, his defeated pockmarked face hidden under a thick dirty white cloak that hadn’t been washed in probably years and that had lost almost all its glorious golden embroideries. Vergil eyed at him for a second, the same way the Moor had eyed at him when, more than two decades ago, he had sit on this very same stool, his then young frame hidden under a cloak similar to his and yet less odorous, a young wanderer looking for stories and answers. Strange how things seems to move in circle. “You’re too late. You know that?” The man’s voice was thickly and hoarse, due to the long years of alcohol abuse and contempt towards the world, towards that silver-haired ghost back from a distant past but especially towards himself. “Twenty-five fucking years too late to be more precise.” He got no answer to that reproach, not a word, just a nod and a pregnant silence that made him scoff. But his laugh, once so hearty and alive, held today nothing but melancholy and despise. “But at least she was right. You did come back.” Vergil peeped at the man again from the corner of his icy blue eyes, longer this time, but still with that eternal impassibility he was known for, hiding his slight surprise and his judgemental thoughts he knew deep down he shouldn’t have. But the barfly next to him was nothing like the man he had met years ago. This man was just the broken shadow of the one everyone in Fortuna once called Adel the Honourable¹ , Captain of the Guard of Sparda. “What the fuck are you doing here … Vergil?” He spat on his name, literally, not caring about what the solemn Son of Sparda would think of him, would do to him. He spat to show him his disgust, his hatred, even though he knew that a bit of saliva wasn’t enough to show the extent of his feelings. “Where is she?” Vergil asked with a calm voice that made Adel grimace (that voice was as nasally and annoying as he remembered) and finally glare at him, allowing Vergil to see how the years and the pain had marked and scared his once-handsome face. “You got some nerve to ask that now.” “ I need to see her.”Adel firmly hit the counter with his empty glass before turning around to stare at Vergil, giving him a long disdainful look he thought he could only give himself. “Sure, I’ll bring you to her. But you might want to give me that damn sword of yours so that I shove it deep in your stone-cold heart first.” Vergil smirked. This was way too reminiscent of old foolish squabbles he once found very amusing … though quite pathetic and most of the time one-sided. “Why don’t you use that crossbow² of yours instead?” The taunt wasn’t meant to defy him if one could read through Vergil’s phlegmatic voice. But the Moor³ interpreted it that way and yet refused to react to it, knowing how vain it would be. “I don’t have it anymore.” Adel opened his cloak to reveal a leather sling with no weapon attached to it. “I don’t have anything anymore. And we know full well that it wouldn’t have done shit to you.” “Trust me, Adel. I know what it’s like to lose everything.” Was it an attempt at sounding

sympathetic? Probably. After all, Vergil still felt somewhat confused by the occasional waves of humanity surging up from inside of him. “Do you?” He laughed with bitterness, not believing him for one second. “Bullshit! And you know why? Cause you never had anything!” If Vergil took this as a personal attack he didn’t let his body show it, but he nevertheless let out one simple sentence, a boast he knew would displease the brown-skinned man, a display of his pride and superiority he always thought he had over that mere human. “I had her.” Quite expectedly, Adel jumped from his stool and before falling back against the bar, tried to grab Vergil by his blue collar. But it looked too pathetic and clumsy to be considered menacing or dangerous. “Fucking stop talking about her!” He pointed his finger at him in defiance while tears formed in his dull black eyes that had long lost their charming spark. “She fucking loved you! She loved you so damn much and you never cared, not a damn second. So don’t come to me with all your ceremony and shit, pretending you care now?” He sobbed loudly and wiped his eyes with his fists, a gesture that only made Vergil frown. How low had that man sunk! And how wrong he was. “Nero needs to know.” The silver-haired man finally said, not very willing to continue this conversation due to a growing lack of patience. “He needs to know about his mother.”There was a new brief silence that could only be filled with glasses clinking, noisy hubbub and prostitutes giggles. Both men gauged each other, wondering who should talk first and what to say after the name of the boy the woman they both loved had given birth to was brought into the discussion. “So you finally know.” The Moor finally said as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “How does it feel?” Vergil didn’t want to talk about his feelings, especially not with a man he hadn’t seen in years and that would be too eager to judge him. His feelings were his to ponder and only his. “My feelings are none of your concern.” The brevity of Vergil’s sentences was annoying to Adel who had almost forgotten how it was to have a conversation with the stoic Son of Sparda. And when some people would call it introversion he would call it self-importance, despicable self-importance. “Do you ever think of her?” New intended silence. But yes, there were times when Vergil did think of her because that’s what happens when someone as special as her shares even just a tiny bit of his life. He thought of her when he was at his best and when he was at his lowest. And he had been thinking of her even more lately, each time he would look at Nero or think of him, each time he would remember his journey in Fortuna. She was a part of his past he would never be able to cast away. But again, none of Adel’s business. “Look, you don’t need to talk to me about her. Just tell Nero. I bet you know how to find him.”Glad to finally leave, Vergil stood up and dusted his long dark coat he felt had been soiled by such a dirty place. But right after he turned around to walk away, his old acquaintance spoke again with disarming heartfelt honesty. “It feels like hell to me.” Vergil stopped and slightly looked back at him from the corner of his eyes, at his defeated look staring deep in his empty glass again. “Like fucking hell actually. Seeing that kid of yours growing up to be just like her but at the same time just like you right under my nose. That smug smirk he got from you on the lips he inherited from her. Everything about that child makes me want to vomit or plug my eyes out because that makes me realise all I lost, all I could have had if you had never stepped a foot in Fortuna. You took her away from me, away from everyone, and when you finally got out from my life, you dared leave behind you a living reminder of your victory over me to torture me for the rest of my miserable days.” Vergil stood still, withstanding the man’s rancour without batting an eyelash. “The fact you considered her love a victory maybe is the reason why you

never had her.” Vergil replied and before pushing the double-leaf door of the bar, waited for an instant as if he was expecting something to come in, but Adel was stubborn and not keen on accepting defeat. “You took her away from your son!” He shouted and smiled when Vergil froze again on his way out. “ If that’s true, go tell him that then.”

***

Nico was pissed. Nero could tell it by the way she was furiously trying to fix the neon blue sign of their van. But what could he do about it? It wasn’t his fault if a starving empusa had decided to snack on the E while Nico was parked waiting for her friend to come back from his demon ass kicking routine. “D vil May Cry” Nero read out loud with a pout. “I don’t know, Nico. Works for me.” And yet, he had a feeling being angry because of a damn light was just a pretext to let out some pent up frustration due to god knew what. “Really? Is that how you gonna treat your family heritage now?” The black-haired woman harrumphed, threatening to hit her friend with a monkey wrench. “Is that how you gonna treat my precious Minotaurus after all he did for ya? After he followed you right into that hellish ficus?” “Qliphoth.” He corrected with a smile. “Yeah whatever.” Nero had a brief laugh but eventually shrugged, not seeing the problem as he read the neon sign on the van again. “The E doesn’t light up anymore. So what? We still know it’s Devil May Cry.” “When your deadbeat dad tore your arm out from its socket, didn’t I give ya a new one?” Nero grumbled, not finding the comparison funny or admissible. “That’s not the same! You can’t compare my arm to a damn neon letter. I needed my arm!” “And Devil May Cry needs its E! So stop complainin’ and pass me the stillson.” She ordered as she kept on adjusting the colourful wires hidden in the dented bodywork of the van. Nero sighed but handed her the tool anyway. “I thought you were tired of being my pet mechanic.” “ I am but like I said, I can’t let you treat my baby like that.” And then, he dared say it. “Seriously. I thought you would be busy reading those new files you found in your father’s old stuff? You didn’t say anything about what they were.” And, as Nico dropped the wrench on the hood, he immediately knew he maybe shouldn’t have asked that. “Cause they were not interesting. Just pieces of diaries he wrote when he was young, explainin’ how he started working for the Order and why he didn’t want me or my mother in his life anymore.” Nero frowned, not believing Nico for an instant. Her sentence didn’t make any sense to him cause he was sure any child who had grown up without a parent would be even just a tiny bit interested in knowing who they were or what they did. He knew he was. God! What he would give to know even a just of small piece of information about his mother, about who she was, how she looked like. But unfortunately for him, the only person who had all the answers to his questions was never prompt to give them, acting more like a vault than a chatterbox. “And that doesn’t interest you? Raaah come on, Nico!” He clicked his tongue. “I’m interested in his work. Nothing else. I couldn’t care less about his adventure with that other chick which is FYI apparently one of the reason why that asshole left my mother and me.” “ You father left your mother for someone else?” Nico glared at Nero, catching a judgment in his voice that never was there. “ Well I least I know why my father left my mother… No, actually, I know my mum, period.” Nero hadn’t heard that kind of words in years but the burn was as painful as he remembered. How many times he had heard the kids in Fortuna disrespecting him, disrespecting his mother, claiming she was a prostitute⁴ from the ill repute places of Fortuna. How many horrors he had to listen to. And how many punches he had received, and given, because of them. “Damn! I’m sorry, Nero. I didn’t mean.” Nico declared, horrified by her unusual behaviour and by the sudden sadness Nero tried to conceal in his blue eyes. “Forget it. I’m used to it.” He gestured her to let go and went rummaging in the toolbox for no particular reason but to occupy his mind with something else. But Nico wasn’t willing to end their conversation like that, the feeling of guilt eating at her. “I’m sure your mother was someone fantastic, Nero.” She had a soft comforting smile.

“I mean, she had to be, you know … to stand your father.” Nero chuckled but there was still that hint of misery, that very particular misery he only felt when thinking of his mother. A mix of bitterness, void and love. “Maybe she never really had to stand him. Maybe she was … a prostitute like everybody said.” Nico frowned; refusing to believe Nero would go for such bullshit. Didn’t he know how close-minded and rumour-hungry the people in Fortuna were? “Nah, I don’t think so.” She declared as she funnily wrinkled her nose. “No money in the world would be enough to accept to spend a night with your dad. Your mother had to veeeery nice and patient and ooooh so in love with him.” Nero spared a glance at Nico, deeply moved by her attempt at comforting him and hoping she was right. “Damn, I beg that poor woman was a saint, ‘cause Vergil might look yummy to most people’s standards but he ain’t fun.” Her lips pinched together, she had a sort of deep serious frown that wrinkled her entire forehead, a somewhat amusing grimace Nero was sure was meant to emulate his father characteristic impenetrability. She kinda nailed it but … “ Did you just say my father looks yummy?” Nero asked, quite disgusted. A crush on Lady, that he could get, but on his father … It made him shiver and want to throw up. “Huh, to most people standards!” She repeating, clapping her hands between each syllables. “I’m not most people.” Nero’s eyes widened when he heard familiar slow and steady footsteps coming from behind the door of the garage. “I mean, do you really think I could feel even just a tiny bit attracted to ‘Power! I need more power!’?” She imitated with a cavernous voice and Nero tried not to laugh. But it wasn’t Nico’s new impersonation of Vergil that was making him want to do so. It was actually his father standing on top of the stairs, stoic and still like a marble statue staring impassibly at Nico making a fool of him. Maybe he should warn her of his presence. Yes, maybe he should. He timidly pointed at his father standing right behind her; still unsure he wanted this scene to stop. But he couldn’t wait to see Nico’s face when she would notice Vergil. And oh god, how priceless it was. Nico was an intrepid, loud and lovely person but when her dark eyes took a small glance of Vergil, she froze and cleared her throat, definitely uncomfortable and … yeah a tiny bit scared. “But it has its charm. You’ve got some charm. That’s undeniable.” She rectified, looking at Vergil who eventually nodded, a faint smile on his face that meant more ‘yeah right’ than ‘how funny’ in Vergil language. He didn’t find this funny at all. “Good evening to you too, Nicoletta. Nero.” He nodded once again, casting his aura of solemnity all over the garage. “Nico. Just Nico … nevermind.” Nico mumbled in a whisper that Vergil heard but chose to ignore. Nicknames were not his thing… They had never been his thing.He went down the stairs, his hand resting on the hilt of his precious Yamato as always and looked at the van with a new frown. “You two are busy working on some repairs, perhaps.” He asked in an effort to be as familial as possible, something that wasn’t his forte at all. It made the two friends exchange a curious glance. “ Yes … I mean, no, we were done.” Nero replied, wondering what his father was doing here. After all, unexpected visits were not in Vergil’s habits. “ No, we were not. Gotta fix that E, remember?” Nico tapped at the letter with insistence. “ That again?” The young man sighed. “Is Dante here?” That could explain Vergil’s presence in Fortuna. But as 90% of the time – or more – the Son of Sparda evicted an answer, changing the subject – or ignoring it – with a destabilizing yet infuriating indifference. “ Miss Goldstein is right, a E is important.” He spoke, his icy blue eyes looking towards a distant past, towards memories he held in his heart he was rediscovering more and more with each day spent with his family, with his son. “ Thank you! See, I told you!” Nico

shouted, proud to be right. “ What are you doing here?” Nero finally questioned, impatient to finally know the truth behind his father’s presence. “I was in Fortuna visiting an old acquaintance.” Vergil weighed his words with smoothness as he paced in the garage looking at his surroundings without no real interest in them. “ You … got acquaintances?” The slight frown of disbelief on Nero’s face made him suddenly look so much like his father but Vergil didn’t notice, too busy staring at the extinguished E that looked so dull surrounded by such neon blue lights when it should have shone as brightly as them if not more. “Hopefully, he should visit you soon.” “ Wait! What? Why?” Nero always saw his father as an impenetrable mystery, even when he was just V, but right now he couldn’t tolerate him being so evasive. “To give you the answers you want.” And he couldn’t not tolerate him being a stolid piece of shit either. “About my mother?” Or a mute one. But with Vergil, silence often meant a lot. “Hey! You can’t just leave me like that!” Nero caught his father’s right arm with a violent strength, a vision that stirred a new one, an old one, one Vergil regretted. “Plus, why would you send a stranger in my house to talk to me about my mother? Why don’t you do it yourself?” God! If she knew what he had done to their son. What would she say? What would she do? “Silence. I thought so. You don’t even have the courage to tell me her name so why should I expect more from you.” In his lifetime, only a few persons had been able to defeat Vergil, one of them being his son. So, after looking down at his boots for a second, he walked away, not keen on riling up Nero even more, not today.“Elissa.⁵” The name, left unpronounced for so many years, burnt Vergil's tongue when each blazing letter, probably angry to have been reduced to dormant embers for so long, managed to escape the barrier of his tight lips. But Vergil welcomed this fiery pain without blinking and even dared say it again, embracing the ignition once more with a soft melancholic smile. He was part demon. Fire couldn't hurt him. So why being afraid of it? “Your mother’s name was Elissa.” Plus there was no danger in saying her name, just liberation. It was a beautiful name, after all. And for a second, he felt like his young self again. “Now fix it, would you?” That E meant a lot to Vergil.

REFERENCES: ¹ Adel The Honourable: Adel is a Persian name derived from the Arabic عَدَلَ meaning "to act justly". I added the title "the Honourable" to reinforce the idea his character was made to be fair, honest and just. Adel also belongs to the House of Montefeltro, a name you will discover later. ² crossbow: I intended to give Adel a simple bow as it is the weapon of righteousness (ndlr: Robin Hood) but then I chose to give him a crossbow because I thought the addition of the word "cross" was giving a religious connotation that suited his character. The fact that he lost the weapon is of course meaningful. ³ The Moor: reference to Shakespeare's Othello. ⁴ claiming she was a prostitute: This idea of Nero's mother being a prostitute was directly taken from Devil May Cry: Deadly Fortune. In the novel, we learn that Nero was often bullied by the other kids claiming his mother was a whore. ⁵ Elissa: Elissa is the other name that was given to Dido, first queen of Carthage and lover of the demi-god Aeneas, in Virgil's Aeneid. Her name is composed of the Punic reflex of "El-" meaning "god", and "‐issa" that means "fire", hence why her name burns Vergil's lips when he says it. Her name carrying the word "fire" also echoes the red colour of her dress and her hair as well as her affiliation to the House of Minos you will read about later. In a nutshell, this girl is on fire! ;-)

#devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #vergil #nero's mother #vergil x nero's mother #vergil fanfiction

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jimintomystery · 3 years

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The Search for Noah's Ark

Many ancient cultures had accounts of a hero surviving a divine flood by building a giant boat, but the story of Noah (Genesis 6-9) stands out, since it is included in the canon of the Abrahamic religions. For centuries, it was not unusual for Jewish, Christian, and Muslim writers to report that Noah's Ark was still sitting on the mountain where it came to rest at the end of the story. But it wasn't until the 20th century that a documented expedition went to look for it.

[Above: A man stands between Mount Ararat, where explorers typically look for Noah's Ark, and a sign for Noah's Ark National Park, the official location of the ship according to the Turkish government.]

The Bible says Noah's Ark landed in "the mountains of Ararat," without any clear indication where that would be. A 4th century Latin edition translated "Ararat" as "Armenia," popularizing that association in Western Christianity. The Armenians themselves used Greek or Syriac bibles, so they only learned of the Ararat-Armenia connection centuries later, from visiting crusaders. Thereafter, the sacred Armenian mountain Masis has been known as "Mount Ararat." Since the 1920s, the mountain has been a part of Turkey, which calls it Ağrı Dağı ("mountain of pain").

After the first confirmed ascent of Mount Ararat in 1829, it became more plausible that someone might go up there and look for Noah's Ark. But the idea wasn't taken seriously until the 1940s, when an article circulated about a Russian pilot spotting a giant wooden boat on Ararat during World War I. Supposedly, the czar ordered a thorough exploration of the structure, but then those no-good godless commies took over and suppressed the findings. The story was ultimately discredited, but not before it stoked the imaginations of American Christians that were eager to prove that the Bible was literally true.

Fascinated by the Russia story, realtor Eryl Cummings and his wife Violet devoted the rest of their lives to tracking down stories about Ark sightings. These tales typically involved American soldiers who said someone showed them a photo of the Ark during World War II, or old Armenian immigrants who supposedly visited the Ark as children. "Ark fever" heated up, though, when a sighting was reported from Turkey. In 1948, Eryl was invited to lead an Ararat expedition planned by retired missionary Aaron J. Smith. Cummings declined, however, and Smith ultimately led the trip himself the following year.

The 1949 expedition is instructive, because it sets the tone for all subsequent attempts to visit Ararat in search of the Ark. Upon arrival, Smith was beset with bureaucratic delays. Permits needed to be paid for, and local authorities rejected clearances that had been granted at the federal level. Reading between the lines, its clear to me that Ark-seekers would pay anything to achieve their dreams, and corrupt Turkish officials took full advantage of that. The team quickly depleted their funds, and didn't get to the mountain until the end of the climbing season.

It's also telling that there hasn't been a lot written about Smith's mission, not even by the Ark hunters who followed in his footsteps. It's much easier to find stories about the Fernand Navarra controversy in the '50s and '60s, or people who couldn't even prove they'd been to the mountain. And it's Eryl Cummings, not Aaron J. Smith, who came to be seen as the father of the movement. There's a simple reason for that: Smith put in the work, but he didn't find anything. Cummings, on the other hand, accumulated all of the tantalizing stories of people who might have found something, which could become a useful lead for the next expedition.

[Above: Reconciling descriptions from two purported eyewitnesses, Elfred Lee illustrates the collapse of Noah's Ark into Ahora Gorge. The gorge was formed in 1840 by a powerful earthquake, which happens to precede the earliest alleged sightings in modern times. Violet Cummings suggested that the quake was divinely ordained to reveal the Ark and usher in the Apocalypse.]

The 1970s saw a wave of books about the search, most of which derived their information from the work of Mr. and Mrs. Cummings. Violet and other writers cast the quest in an apocalyptic light, suggesting that God had hidden the Ark all this time only to reveal it as a sign that the End Times were imminent. The implication was that Noah's Ark could not be discovered until the appointed hour but, paradoxically, Judgement Day will be stalled unless believers find the ship as soon as possible.

"Arkeology" arguably peaked in the 1980s, when astronaut Jim Irwin took up the search. By that point Turkey was wary of letting amateur climbers wander around so close to their border with Iran and the Soviet Union. But the eighth person to walk on the Moon was able to open some doors and, more crucially, cut through some red tape. However, Irwin still had to deal with the punishing conditions of Mount Ararat itself. His adventures there are best remembered for the injuries he sustained, and the heart issues that made it increasingly unwise for him to return year after year.

Jim Irwin no doubt inspired a new generation of Ark-seekers, but by the late 1990s the community was bitterly divided about where to look. For thousands of years, legends suggested that the ship was in plain sight for anyone who dared to climb up and find it. But fifty years of aerial reconnaissance, satellite photography, and boots on the ground had proven otherwise. Debate intensified about whether Ararat was even the right mountain, and about the validity of other possible sites, forcing people to re-evaluate the established lore surrounding the quest. So you end up with one "arkeologist" attacking the reasoning of another, often with logic that could be extended to dismiss the entire search.

[Above: In 2010 Noah's Ark Ministries International released photos like this one, purportedly taken inside a massive wooden structure on Mount Ararat. NAMI refused to reveal the location for independent verification, citing security concerns. Within days of the announcement, former associates of NAMI came forward accusing them of staging the whole thing.]

That background of in-fighting put a damper on a 2010 press event claiming that a Hong Kong evangelical group had found the Ark on Ararat. You'd think video footage of this discovery would delight Ark hunters. On the contrary, many were as skeptical as mainstream scientists. The feuding over which Ark theories were right or wrong had left them wary, because if some flaky story captured the public imagination, it might discredit the entire movement. Which is ironic, considering that the movement wouldn't exist at all if not for an urban legend about a Russian cover-up.

At a glance, it may seem like "Ark fever" is part and parcel with religious fundamentalism, or maybe just a specific flavor of Christian anti-intellectualism. However, even some influential creationists have debunked the search for Noah's Ark. There's no scriptural basis for assuming that God arranged for the Ark to remain intact until modern times, or that it was meant to be rediscovered, or that locating it would have any bearing on the end of the world. The entire rationale for the search is that dozens of unconfirmed reports can't all be wrong, which isn't a solid foundation for an archaeology project.

#noah's ark #arkeology #pseudoscience #pseudoarchaeology #creationism #mount ararat #into mystery

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jbbuckybarnes · 3 years

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Scared & Sacred - Ch. 3

Pairing: Din Djarin x pregnant!Reader

Description: The Mandalorian had helped you while you were hunted for your family name and you had grown a little closer over the months, but you didn’t expect THIS. How was this possible after just three times of getting so close to him. You had to find a nurse as fast as possible.

Warnings: pregnancy, fluff, helmetless Din, canon divergent, not proofread

M A S T E R L I S T

Chapter 3 - Comfortable

Omera closed in on you right after you landed with happiness written all over her face. „Mando, Princess, Greenling.“ She bowed slightly as a hello and got a tiny coo in return from Din‘s arms. „Omera.“ You hugged her close to you, noticing the little village flourishing. „What brings you here?“ She smiled over to Din who took a step forward to be next to you again. „We aren‘t hunted anymore and we really needed a break. The little one loved it here last time, so we figured we would come here for a while.“ You explained and took Grogu who started to fuzz. „You are always welcome here, after everything you did.“ She nodded and showed you to follow her to her hut. There was a loud squeak in your arms when Grogu saw the children playing. You grinned and walked towards Winta which noticed you seconds later. „Have an eye on him, yeah?“ You set Grogu down in front of her and got an eager nod back.

„I‘ll make sure food will be ready for you later. Get comfortable.“ You heard Omera as you walked in. „Actually, I‘d love to help around.“ Din spoke up and got a slightly surprised face back. „I think they could always use help chopping wood.“ She pointed at a couple of men in the distance and he nodded and went off. The pretty woman faced you, „He‘s so different, what happened?“ You smiled back at her, „We met many people on our journey. Made him softer. And I think having me around helped a lot.“ „I‘m sure. Your green child looks well loved by the both of you.“ She looked out of the window with you at the children. „Lost him for a while, got him back, started a bedtime routine, fell in love with his dad. You know, the usual things happening when you‘re suddenly parents.“ You noticed her facing you. „Oh? I know there was something else different between you two.“ A wide smile spread on her face. „It might be a little more obvious on him now than it was a couple weeks ago. I am with child.“ You looked at her too and your hand automatically wandered to where you knew your little wonder was. „Really? That‘s amazing! I‘ll bombard you with all my tips if you let me!“ She jumped a little and went in for a hug that you returned. „I‘ll let you.“ You chuckled at her happiness, „But I really missed having a normal bed and Grogu kept me up half the night, so I‘ll probably sleep early tonight.“ „Grogu? Is that his name?“ „A Jedi woman told us that‘s his name, yes. You need to call him that and listen to the sound he makes. It‘s adorable.“ You both chuckled. „Well, I‘ll leave you to it with the unpacking and bring you food in a while. You need rest.“ She softened more than she already did and then went her way.

A while later Din came back to the hut, smelling like forest already. „You smell nice, cyare.“ You smiled up, grabbing onto his chest plate. „It‘s cute when you say it, mesh‘la.“ He took off his gloves and threw them behind him before taking your face into his hands. „And what does that mean?“ Your hands went up to the helmet. „Beautiful.“ You released the helmet with a hiss and saw his hair all tousled up. „What‘s the word for handsome?“ You smirked before hearing a gasp in the entrance. „I‘m so sorry.“ Omera had turned away. „No, no. It‘s okay, I learned my religion was more intense about the helmets than other Mandalorian groups and others take that thing off when it‘s safe.“ Din explained and she turned around to look at you both. „I have to agree with her. You do look handsome.“ She grinned and set down the tray of food, „Your child will look gorgeous.“ Din looked over to you and you gave him a slight nod. „That is still surreal from a mouth that isn‘t hers.“ He pointed at you and Omera giggled. „You men always need a while to let it set in. Us women just know.“ She winked at you both before making her exit.

You turned back to Din, seeing the soft smile directed down at you. „Do you think it‘s a boy or a girl?“ He murmured, grabbing your hips. „Grogu said a girl.“ His brow rose up, „Showed him veggies as either option. His babbling while holding up the tukal root was really convincing.“ You both chuckled at that. He knew how expressive Grogu could get without you two understanding one bit. „What do you think?“ You asked up at him with a smile. „I asked you first.“ „Don‘t argue with a pregnant woman, Din.“ He chuckled and shook his head, „I‘d love a girl. I‘m starting to think we‘ll keep Grogu with nobody searching for him after the Tython mess.“ „A boy and a girl sounds perfect to me too.“ You went onto your tippy toes and kissed him on the nose. You gently got rid of his armor, something you had only done with his pauldrons before the news broke. This was an immense sign of trust for both of you. „If you change your underclothes too and walk out to get Grogu they‘ll think someone invaded their village again.“ You snorted and heard a laugh emitting above you. „I‘m willing to try. Omera would at least be able to defend me with her skills.“ „I’ll just watch the show from my window.“

After putting on a different undershirt and dark green pants they gave their guests, he walked out towards the children. You watched the town perk up at the view of the unknown man. „Grogu.“ You heard his signature coo at his name. „Hey, what are you doing with that child?“ A village man asked as Din picked Grogu up. „Yeah, who the hell are you?“ Another joined in and you snorted from the window, making the men look over. „Oh.“ You heard in a choir. „It‘s alright. It‘s great to know that you would keep him safe if we weren‘t there to defend him.“ Din smiled at them and heard a giggle from his arms. „You hungry, kid?“ A squeak came back at him and he came back to the hut with a chuckle. „That was funny and sweet.“ You giggled before taking Grogu towards you to feed his food to him slowly so he didn‘t get a belly ache like last night.

After you put Grogu into his little bed and put a blanket over it to keep it dark in the morning hours you returned to Din sitting on the bed comfortably. „It‘s so incredible seeing you so relaxed, so yourself. I feel like I’m falling in love all over again.“ He smiled at you widely. „Come here, cyar‘ika.“ He held his arms open and welcomed you in. You sat like that for a while, feeling little kisses all across your hair. „Tell me more about yourself, Din. I wanna know the father of my child better and help him be a person without his serious creed.“ You murmured and squeezed him. Half the night was spent with him recounting events he remembered from childhood, his parents dying and what it felt like growing up in the Mandalorian religion. It was like you had a new man in front of you. The once silent armored man had turned into a trusting haven of words. He was very expressive due to never having had to worry about that before, but you loved that about him even more. He had his emotions open to you like nobody else before. „You need to sleep.“ He urged you softly, noticing your eyes getting smaller and smaller while listening. „Maybe.“ You mumbled and he gently pushed you to lay down with a grin on his face. „You need rest, you‘re growing a human inside of you.“ He kissed your nose. „That you put there, may I add. After I was hurt.“ You giggled all droopy. „You‘re cute when you‘re sleepy. Did I ever tell you that?“ His fingers wandered over your face featherlight. „Not a man of many words.“ You giggled and he chuckled at how sleepdrunk you were. „Little hard to describe someone as pretty as you.“ He watched you smile at him. „I love you.“ „I love you too.“ And like that you were gone off to dreamland.

Reblog to support a content creator.

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duhragonball · 3 years

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Hellsing Liveblog Ch. 68-69 (nice)

This is the “Castlevania” arc. It’s only two parts, but I want to slow down and take my time with this one.

Okay, so in the last chapter, Alucard was fighting Alexander Anderson, who used one of the nails from the True Cross to pierce his own heart, which transformed Anderson into some sort of miraculous creature made of thorny tendrils. Then he struck a heavy blow on Alucard’s head, and just sort of kept on going down his neck and chest.

And as far as we call tell, this is the most danger Alucard’s been in since the story began. Anderson lopped off his head in their first encounter, and even that didn’t stop him. Now, in this “holy monster” form, Anderson can grow back body parts just as easily as Alucard, and he seems to be able to hurt Alucard a lot more than ever before. The irony is that Alucard might have been honored to lose to Anderson, but only when he was a human foe. Now that Anderson has used the Nail of Helena to become something inhuman, Alucard feels that it diminishes their fight.

Regardless, Alucard is in serious danger, or so it seems. Even his horde of familiars are bursting into flames all around him, which I assume is a side-effect of Anderson’s attack. As this happens, Alucard appears to lose consciousness, and flashes back to his childhood.

This whole flashback seemed like a nonsequitur to me when I watched the Hellsing Ultimate OVA, but I think it makes a bit more sense this time around. As a boy in the 1440′s, Vlad Tepes was something of a religious fantatic, much like Father Anderson in 1999. He pledged to never ask God for anything, which I don’t think is theologically sound, but let’s run with it. The point here seems to be that Vlad felt it was more pious to endure hardship while keeping his faith in God.

For example, in this scene, we see Vlad being dragged away to be raped, and he grabs the cross he wears around his neck for solace. He doesn’t beg God for mercy or deliverance, but simply clings to his faith to see him through.

I’m assuming the man in shadow is Sultan Murad II of the Ottoman Empire. In 1442, Murad summoned Vlad’s father to Gallipoli, and he went there with Vlad and his brother Ruda. The Sultane then imprisoned all three of them, and eventually released Vlad’s father, but kep the boys as hostages to ensure the fahter’s loyalty. There was a period when Vlad’s father sided against the Ottomans, and he presumed his sons had been killed, but in fact they survived and eventually returned to Wallachia. So maybe Kouta Hirano is taking some creative license here, and suggesting that Murad II took out his anger on Vlad in other ways.

Eventually, Vlad became the Voivoide of Wallachia, and in this flashback we find that he considers fighting to be a form of prayer. Not for mercy, because Vlad refuses to ask for that. Instead, he seems to believe that if you just keep fighting hard enough, God will descend from the heavens. None of this made sense to me the first time around, but once you start interpreting this in the context of Vlad as a religious extremist, it starts to add up. Anderson’s fellows in the Iscariot Organization were literally blowing themselves up to help Anderson defeat Alucard, and they were happy to do it, because they saw it as a holy mission. Anderson himself was eager to use the Nail to make himself into a monster, because he craved to be a single-minded instrument of God’s will. A righteous bludgeon to smite the wicked. Vlad Tepes’ “bloodlust” seems to have been inspired by a similar zealotry, at least as Hirano sees it.

But in the end, did God descend to respond to Vlad’s “prayers”? The image of the modern Alucard is all the answer we need. Of course that didn’t happen.

I’m just cribbing from the Vlad the Impaler page on Wikipedia, but from what I gather about Vlad’s final years, he was fighting for the office of Voivoide of Wallachia against Basarab Laiotă , who had support from the Ottoman Empire. Vlad fought and lost, probably dying in battle in December 1476/Janury 1477. The story goes that his corpse was cut into pieces, and his head sent to Ottoman Sultan Mehmed II.

So Kouta Hirano depicts Vlad’s final moments with him being captured and executed. This is certainly plausible, and it gives Vlad a chance to reflect on his failure before he meets his fate. He fought and killed so many people, daring to resist the Ottomans even as he ruled a state that was basically controlled by the Ottomans, and I guess he must have known how impossible that would be, which is why he counted on God to deliver him, so long as he fought hard enough.

But in that final moment, just as the axe comes down on his neck, he still has his cross... but instead of taking solace in that, he reaches out instead for the puddle of blood in front of him. The axe comes down and shatters the cross, just as Vlad Tepes forsakes his humanity.

So maybe all of this is a way of Alucard accepting defeat. Defeated and humbled, no longer a servant of God or a leader of men, no longer even a man, he renounced his faith and became the vampire Dracula, and eventually Alucard. But now Anderson seems to have the upper hand, so maybe, after 523 years, Vlad Tepes is back where he started, facing an inevitable death.

And you know, maybe Anderson’s monster form represents the divine intervention he was waiting for back in the 15th Century. After all these centuries of battle, you might say that God finally did descend from heaven to respond to Alucard. So maybe this is a fitting swan song for the guy. He wanted to die at the hands of a human adversary, but maybe this works too, right?

But then he hears someone calling out to him, and...

Hey, it’s Seras!

So yeah, we’re back to the real world, and Anderson’s well on his way to chopping Alucard in half and burning him with holy fire or something...

And Alucard’s still out of it...

And then Seras jumps in to save his ass! Cool!

The only problem is that this was killing Alucard, and Seras is less powerful than Alucard, so she’s probably not going to be able to do a lot of good here. For that matter, this might just get both of them killed.

And this is why I think this moment is cool. When Team Four Star did their Abridged parody of Hellsing, they sort of skipped this whole “Seras jumps in” part of the fight. Instead, they did a whole thing where Alucard has a near-death experience and talks to God. Then he rejects God’s offer of forgiveness and goes on to defeat Anderson by himself. I don’t care much for that, because Seras is my favorite character, and I find the whole routine of “Well maybe I don’t need your forgiveness, God!” kind of stale and limp. Can something be stale and limp at the same time?

Like, I think I get that a lot of atheists are sore at the whole “organized religion” thing, but it seems kind of silly to write a whole bit where the premise is that God is real, but only so we can all tell him to get lost. Like, I’m a Christian, so I can’t really relate, but if I thought God didn’t exist, I wouldn’t spend all day writing angry text messages to God to remind him of how fake he is.

But mostly, I just really like Seras, and this is a cool Seras scene, and I think that deserves attention, so here we are.

The Alucard-Seras relationship is complex by design. With Integra and Alucard, there’s not much to it. She literally addresses him as “slave” at one point, and he repeatedly talks about himself like a weapon that she has to point at her target. There’s something kind of like that with Al and Seras. In one of their first missions together, he sends her to take out a bunch of ghouls just so he won’t be bothered, and it’s almost like he’s weilding her as a weapon. But he also never leans on that too hard. For one thing, there’s not a whole lot of thngs Seras can do for him that he can’t do more easily himself.

It feels a lot more like a Master/Apprentice relationship, which may not strictly be a vampire thing, because he’s teaching her how to hunt vampires and how to be a vampire at the same time. I think Seras has the same sort of devotion to her master as he does for Integra, but that’s mostly overshadowed by a more down-to-earth respect and admiration. She sees him like a superior officer and a mentor, but she also knows that he has this strange charm over her that she can’t explain or resist.

One of the things I can’t stand about he Gonzoverse Hellsing Anime is how after a while they just started having Seras say “Master...!” over and over. I get it, there’s some power in the way she says it. It means a lot of things to her. I wouldn’t be shocked to find out that “Castlevania part 2″ inspired some of that, but I don’t know what chapter of the manga was published when the anime wrapped up. But it annoyed me that they just used “Master...!” over and over again as a shorthand for Seras’s feelings. You have to do something with it. Demonstrate it, like we’re seeing here with Seras trying to remove a blessed bayonet from Alucard’s torso. She has to help him, even if it means risking her own neck, because he means so much to her, and she wouldn’t be here without him. And yeah, she’s his vampire servant, so this seems like something a loyal servant should be doing. Stickin’ together is what good waffles do.

Let me pause here to note that this marks the destruction of whatever remained of Dandyman and Rip van Winkle, the only “name” characters featured in Alucard’s menagerie of absorbed souls. Whatever Anderson is doing to Alucard, it’s destroying them, irrevocably.

So it occurred to me one day, what if Seras has to save Alucard, not out of slavish devotion or plucky heroism, or even righteous loyalty? Way back in Chapter 1, Integra explained vampires to the local authorities, and said that when you kill a vampire, you also destroy all the ghouls and servant vampires that were created by that first vampire. In other words, if Alucard were to be destroyed, Seras ought to die with him. So maybe her efforts here could be nothing more than self-preservation. I’m not wild about that idea. Maybe, after drinking Pip’s blood, Seras “graduated” from that lowly status, and she no longer depends upon Alucard in this way.

But I think the point remains either way. They’re in this together. Alucard called the two of them a family, and it wasn’t just creepy vampire talk. There’s a bond between them, and it matters to both of them. And that’s why Seras’ intervention here is what brings Alucard back from the brink. By rushing in to help him, Seras has placed herself in danger, and now they have to rescue each other.

I like this part where he puts his hand on hers as they pull out the bayonet together. It’s like the moment when Seras reached out to Alucard in Cheddar and he took her hand then. Well, that was only in the OVA, but still.

Alucard tells Anderson that he might have welcomed a death like this, maybe back when he was about to get beheaded in 1476, but now, he refuses to be defeated. 523 years ago, he was at his lowest ebb. He had nothing. Today, he has Seras.

And... yeah, he has Integra too. I don’t want to dismiss the importance of that relationship. But Integra could find a way to get by without him if she needed to. He has a responsibility to Seras, though, and Seras’s loyalty trumps whatever death-fantasies he might have on his mind.

Then Al turns into this form, which I guess is the same outfit he was wearing back in 1989, when Integra found him in the basement. Not sure if that’s supposed to mean anything, though.

Oh, and I guess there’s still a few familiars that didn’t burn up from before? This is the last time we see them though, so maybe this final attack finishes them off.

As Alucard strikes the final blow on Anderson, Integra flashes back to her father, who taught her about the vampires’ inner psyche. Arthur Hellsing suggested that vampires don’t have a whole lot to show for their immortality. They crave conflict, not for its own sake, but becuse they long for death. Not just any ol’ death, but a kind of death that they could take some solace in. We’ve already seen this in Alucard, as he seems to relish the idea of being killed by a human like Anderson, or van Helsing. If all he wanted was death, he could have let that Ottoman headsman finish the job 523 years ago. Instead, he lost everything, and he’s spent centuries with nothing to take comfort in. And that probably explains why Alucard is so happy with his service to Integra. At least she gives him a purpose, a duty, a cause to fight for.

And finally, Alucard rips out Anderson’s heart, with the Holy Nail still in it.

And he crushes it, which I guess it enough to neutralize the Nail’s effect? Well, cool enough then.

But Al takes no pleasure in this victory. He sees in Anderson a reflection of himself, back when he was a human. The fanaticism, the failure, the rejection of humanity to become a monster, and then failure again.

And then Anderson, or whats’ left of him, consoles Alucard before he dies.

#2021hellsingliveblog #hellsing #alucard #seras victoria #alexander anderson #sir integra hellsing #arthur hellsing #walter c dornez #murad ii

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